The list of things I haven't done is getting smaller and smaller with each passing day. Another thing that can now safely be crossed off of that shrinking list is nude housecleaning. Last night, I went over to this guy's house, got naked pretty quickly and started with his dishes. He sat on the couch in the living room mildly uncomfortable and even tried to joke about it, how he was more uncomfortable than I was. We then talked about my school, about his job, about boring things really, but he really wanted to keep talking. He was the second Jewish person I had met in two days who within the first five minutes of talking, cited their Jewishness as an apology for their neuroses. He was kind of fat but really nice and polite, if not more than a little mildy neurotic.

This was the second time he had had a naked houseboy and he did not really know what to do. I confessed to him that this was my first time cleaning someone's apartment and I didn't really know what to do, he said he didn't know what to do either, to look at how messy the place was, obviously he didn't know how to clean.

So I half-assed cleaned his kitchen counter, mopped his living room floor, and cleaned his tub. He kept telling me to take a break and smoke with him and so I did, sitting naked on his couch, watching Sex and the City, talking and laughing. After about two hours of more hanging out than actual cleaning, I told him I was done, he paid me the sixty dollars, and I started to get dressed. He asked if he could just take a better look at my ass one last time. I said sure and let him look at my ass. He then asked if he could touch my ass. I told him all right if he gave me some more money. He said all he had left was twenty, gave it to me, and then asked if I wanted a rimjob and I said why not and was propped on his bed, while he knelt on the floor and ate my ass and I jacked off and came and then got dressed.

When I stepped outside, I put on my headphones. Lester Young was playing and it was too funny, the juxtaposition, the big band melodic jazz as the soundtrack to my whoring. It felt really good to bounce down those New York streets, people out for the night looking dressed up despite the cold, a pocket full of money, this loud jazz in my ears. It was an awesome moment. In the subway, I picked up some bootleg videos. I watched a gorgeous copy of The Life Aquatic that must have been copied from a screener, and drank Coors Light, and really enjoyed the evening, and the new way I am living.