the dark web

"The desert wears… a veil of mystery. Motionless and silent, it evokes in us an elusive hint of something unknown, unknowable, about to be revealed." – Edward Abbey

Clear blue skies stretch ahead, windmills spinning to my right as I roll into Palm Springs. The car’s thermometer reads a perfect 74 degrees—exactly the kind of escape I needed from LA’s so-called winter. – say what you want, but 60 degrees in LA is cold. It just is.

The words, ‘You Have Arrived’ light up on the dashboard. I pull over and take a look around the gated community I’ve found myself in. The buildings around me, all interconnected, seemingly carved out of a red stone of some sort, really leaning into the desert landscape, deeply reminding me of where I am. 

I fire off a quick text and step out of the car, stretching deep to shake off the four-hour drive that should’ve been two. But, of course, I checked Maps at noon, left an hour later, and—like magic— that ETA doubled.

The moment I step outside, the air hits different. Crisp, electric, the kind that wakes up something restless inside me. There’s something about the way this place smells—fresh, alive, like anything could happen. 

Maybe it will.

The moment I bend forward, reaching for my toes, to stretch out my back a deep voice rings out behind me: “Oh hi there.”

I snap back to a standing position and spin around to find a man around 6’1, late forties, little scruffy with an impressive gym body.

“Marky Mark,” I say with a smile. Mark grins at me as he slips his arms around my waist and pulls me in for a subtle, quick yet still intimate kiss. 

“How are you, baby boy?” 

Mark holds me, his gaze locking onto mine—intense, unrelenting, penetrating me deeper than most men ever have anally. He’s like a raw, exposed nerve—hypersensitive, always reaching, always craving more.

I can’t relate.

“I’m doing good, just tired from the drive.” I answer with a sleepy smile. Mark wraps his arms around me. He holds me tight in his big arms and I can’t help but melt.

“Let’s get inside.”

Mark’s home is the kind that makes you exhale the second you step inside—sleek, modern, effortlessly expensive. It’s all clean lines, floor-to-ceiling windows, and furniture that looks straight out of Architectural Digest. The kind of place that feels curated yet lived-in, where everything has its place, and yet, there’s still a warmth to it. It’s luxurious but not cold—just like him.

"I love your place," I say, and for once, there’s no performance in it—I really do. It’s stunning.

"Thank you," Mark says, glancing around like he’s seeing it for the first time. "I love it here. Whenever I’m in Palm Springs, I feel completely at ease."

"Something about the desert," I offer.

"Something about the desert," he agrees.

He slides his fingers through mine, leading me through the sleek entryway into the open-concept kitchen. When we reach the massive white marble island, he lets go, heading straight for the fridge.

"I hope you’re ready to have a good time," he says, flashing a grin over his shoulder.

I smirk. "I’m down for anything."

"You said you’ve done molly before?"

I let out a laugh. "Oh, more times than I could count."

Mark grabs an Evian bottle from the fridge and two shot glasses from a nearby bar cart, his movements smooth, practiced.

“I get this stuff online. Super pure, super strong,” he says, a little thrill in his voice.

There are a few standard lines people drop when you’re doing drugs with them for the first time. The classic: “Just so you know, this is really strong.”

But every so often, someone throws in a curveball—something you don’t hear as often. And today’s addition to the list?

"Hey! I got this online!"

“Online? Like… from the dark web?”

“Yeah, like, from the dark web,” Mark mimics my inflection, smirking at my reaction.

“Okay, well… sorry that I prefer to do things the old-fashioned way,” I tease.

Mark carefully measures out two shots from the Evian bottle, precise and deliberate.

“I buy online because when you get drugs off the street, you have no idea what you’re actually getting.”

“Right. Because every online purchase I’ve ever made has arrived exactly as expected,” I quip, dripping in sarcasm. I’m walking the line, but keeping it charming.

Mark’s grin tells me I’m right where I need to be.

“There are reviews,” he counters. “And when it arrives, I test it to make sure it’s not laced.” He hands me a shot glass.

“Thank you,” I say, lifting it. “Should we cheers?”

“We should, yes.”

But before I can move, Mark gently takes my hand, stilling me. His gaze locks onto mine, suddenly serious.

“I like to do something every time I do drugs with someone—you might think it’s silly—”

“Okay…” I say, bracing for something bizarre. Chanting? Puppy masks? A moment of silent prayer?

“I like to set an intention.”

“Okay, that’s not weird.” I chuckle with relief. 

Mark takes a deep breath, his eyes locking onto mine again—deep, searching. Feeling.

"I want to get to know you. I want to feel close to you. I want to experience you."

“Period.”

Like a gunshot at the start of a race, our glasses tap together—and we’re off.

***

The sky bleeds deep oranges and soft purples, the desert air warm against my skin. Mark and I sit side by side, legs stretched out, our fingers barely brushing against each other on the cool stone of the patio. The molly has settled in now—everything feels softer, deeper, more significant.

He exhales, staring out at the horizon. “Do you think love is real?”

I turn my head slightly, smirking. “That’s a loaded question.”

“I know.” He smiles, still looking ahead. “But I’m serious. Do you think love is this real, tangible thing? Or just chemicals and timing and projection?”

I watch the sky shift as the sun dips lower. “I think it’s real. But I also think it’s all those other things too.”

Mark finally looks at me. “Explain.”

“I think of it more like… a shared delusion. You meet someone, you decide they’re special, and suddenly, the way they text you back, the way they take their coffee, the way they exist—it all matters. It’s just them. But because you decided they’re special, they are.” Mark stares at me, taking in what I’ve said. “What I’m trying to say is, love is a mix of chemicals and timing and projection, but if you want it to be real it will be.”

He lets that sit between us for a moment before shaking his head. “That makes it sound like we’re all just tricking ourselves.”

I shrug. “Maybe we are.”

Mark is quiet for a moment, then says, “I don’t know if I agree.”

I glance over at him, smirking. “Why am I not surprised?”

He hesitates. “I think sometimes love just happens to you. Like you get caught in a current, and by the time you realize what’s happening, you’re already drowning in it.”

The sky darkens as the stars begin to emerge, one by one, like secrets waiting to be told. Mark exhales, glancing at me.

“Have you ever been in love?”

I open my mouth, then close it again, thinking. “I don’t know. I’ve been obsessed. I’ve been heartbroken. I’ve wanted people who didn’t want me back, and I’ve had people want me when I didn’t care. I’ve felt a lot of things. I just don’t know if any of them were love.”

Mark nods, looking down at his hands. “Maybe love is just what’s left after all the other feelings fade.”

I raise an eyebrow, “And what if nothing’s left?”

He meets my gaze, his voice quiet but certain. “Then maybe it never was.”

The weight of his words lingers between us, thick as the warm desert air. And for a moment, neither of us speaks. Because sometimes, silence says the most.

Then finally, after what seems like forever, Mark turns to me and says:

“Do you wanna do G?”

***

I’m naked and wet, drifting from one side of the jacuzzi to the other as the jets work their magic on my skin. The water feels softer somehow, silkier. My body is caught between total euphoria and complete disorientation, the molly and GHB settling in like an old friend and a new mistake.

I stretch out, letting myself float, letting the night take me. Everything feels electric—the air, the water, the way my fingertips skim the surface. I close my eyes and exhale. Right now, I am nothing but sensation.

Mark appears beside me, kissing my cheek, then my neck. I let him, lost in the sucking vortex that is my new reality.

I float on my back, weightless, as Mark holds me just above the water. His fingers trace slow, lazy lines across my stomach, my legs, my back. I shift, wrapping myself around him, pressing my body into his like I can merge us together. I squeeze him tight. He holds me even tighter. For a moment, I feel completely safe.

"I love you, baby," he whispers against my ear.

"I love you too," I murmur back.

I know it’s the drugs. I know it’s just serotonin, dopamine, and the kind of disorientation that makes anything feel real. But maybe, just for tonight, I’ll let myself believe it.

“Come over here,” Mark says, he guides me to the edge of the tub. He pulls my legs up onto his shoulders, forcing my lower body out of the water. He kisses the insides of my thighs as he makes his way to my ass. I lift myself onto the edge of the jacuzzi so Mark has an easier angle to eat me out. 

I settle myself onto the edge of the jacuzzi, my legs dangling in the air as Mark’s tongue flicks, rubs and coats my hole with spit. 

“Oh fuck.” I moan and tilt my head back as I allow myself to be in my body. 

As Mark continues his work, I find myself staring into the night sky. I definitely can’t see all the stars in the sky but I can see more here than I can when I’m in LA. Each one telling a different story. Each one a different universe. Each with a million heartbreaks. Each with a thousand silly boys jacked out on drugs getting their ass ate by some man they barely know.

It really makes you think.

“Flip over.”

I flip over so that I’m kneeling on the jacuzzi seat, bent over the side.

“Fuuuck,” Mark groans as he slaps my ass, calls me a good boy and goes back to work.

I look back at my stars. They seem so close together yet, they’re spaced out by millions, maybe even billions of miles. Like ships floating in the night. 

I start to think Mark and I aren’t that different. We happen to be together at this second but our minds are a million miles away from each other. Both of us with a different idea of the other, both with a different fantasy of the other. 

I start wondering, what if I just gave in? Let the chemicals take over and actually love this man? Why do I feel like I’m above all that? Like somehow I’m too good for my own humanity, too guarded to just let go and feel something real. What is it about me that thinks love needs to be anything other than messy and instinctual?

Because I know none of it’s real.

I moan out as Mark pushes into me, he covers my mouth and finds a steady, fast hard rhythm. Each time our bodies slam into each other it becomes harder and harder for me to keep quiet. 

“You love daddy’s cock, don’t you baby,” Mark sneers at me before slapping my ass again. Water splashes up around us as his speed increases.

My senses are working overtime. My insides feel like they’re going to explode from pleasure and pain. My outsides feel like I’m at the epicenter of a hurricane. 

I’m no longer trying to be quiet. Mark shifted his hands from my face to my shoulders pushing me back into him to match his thrusts into me. I feel my insides tighten around Mark, pulling him in deeper wanting him more and more. My eyes roll back with pleasure.

I look back up at the stars, constantly exploding, expanding until they become nothing. 

I wonder if they can love?

***

I wake slowly, daylight creeping in from the edges of my vision, pulling me into consciousness.

Where am I?

I’m naked, just barely covered by a cream-colored sheet. The room feels oddly familiar—though I’ve never been here before, it smells like Mark.

It doesn’t take long to spot the clothes from last night, tossed carelessly in a pile. My underwear, shorts, and sweatshirt—conveniently close, like nothing ever happened.

I shuffle toward the door, hearing muffled sounds from the next room. Mark’s voice, a bit more businesslike than the playful tone from last night.

I push the door open to find him in an armchair, looking out at the backyard, his cell phone pressed to his ear. He glances over and gives me a smile as I step inside.

I kiss him on the cheek, murmuring a quick goodbye.

The love I felt last night? Gone. The world is no longer this glowing, fascinating place—it’s back to normal. Mark and I? We’re strangers again.

It’s like Mark said—if everything fades when those feelings disappear, maybe there wasn’t anything real to begin with.