Her beauty was what first caught my eye that day in the hospital; curiosity kept her in my mind and the sadness in her eyes kept haunting me. I thought about her off and on, played scenarios about what could’ve caused such despair. Months went by and thoughts of her slowly faded until that day her foul mouth caught my attention and her eyes met mine. At that moment, I couldn’t pinpoint where I’d seen her, although I knew I had and now all I want is to be able to avoid ever seeing her, ever knowing her, ever looking into those damn eyes.
I force my mind to run away from the thought of her, I dismiss the passion she awakened in me, and I oppress the will to want her but it’s so fucking hard. It’s like being exposed to orgasmic pleasure and once I get a taste for it I can’t be without it. I’ve never felt unwanted, it’s done damage to my ego and what’s worse, it hurt my heart. It was the first time I thought a relationship could evolve into something more. Nicolas’ warning should’ve kept me away maybe I should’ve listened to him for once. Maybe I should’ve just fucked her like I always just fucked all the others. Maybe I should just have a few more drinks and she will disappear from my fucking mind.
I wave the bartender down. I raise my glass, tip it making sure I’ve gotten all its contents, the ice gently hits my lips and the coolness feels nice against them. By the time I set the glass down, she has my next drink waiting for me. I quickly exchange the empty glass for the full one and take a swig; the Jack no longer burns as it flows down my esophagus.
“It’s no magic potion sweetheart. It’s only going to make you feel one hundred times worse tomorrow and the problem will still be there. But hey what do I know right? I’m just the bartender,” she says wiping down the area around me and taking the empty glass. I walked into the bar right after work and I haven’t bothered to look at the time, so I pull up my sleeve and see it’s five past midnight.
“Thanks for the tip, mueñca.” My speech is a little slurred but still intelligible. “However, I’m fine. I’m just a man enjoying a drink.” She turns to smile with her flirty eyes. She walks toward me and leans in to me, her tank top dips so I can see her cleavage and I feel the tightness in my jeans. The last time I was with a woman was her and that was way to fucking long.
“If that’s so, then my shift ends in about hour.” She winks at me goes to attend another customer.
I need this. I can fuck her, I am wanted. This is what I need to finally get myself back. To get this delusion out of my fucking head. I sit there and laugh at myself; I can’t fucking believe I let a woman make a mess of me. Never in my life had I ever or will ever think that love and marriage can coexist for me. It’s not in me to love one person. I know that, because I don’t believe in that, it doesn’t exist. People believe in fairytales and what they end up getting are broken hearts and disappointments. Or should I say divorce and long days of therapy sessions. I can’t fucking believe myself. I take the rest of what’s left of the contents in the glass and down it. I stare at the empty glass debating on another, and think about the magic potion. Actually, I can say it is. I came in here feeling like my heart was being imprisoned by a woman and now it’s freed. My mind was filled with a thought of one and now there are images of another, and the idea of love has vanished and been replaced with what I’ve always known to exist, lust.
An arm wraps around my shoulder, the warmth of her breath against my neck causes chills to runs down my spine, and my blood to flow causing more discomfort than I’d like to admit. Suddenly the image of me fucking her on the bar seems like a fucking good idea.
“Ready, handsome?” she whispers in my ear.
Oh, sweetheart you don’t know how ready.
I stumble to my feet but I try to walk as straight as I can. My apartment isn’t far from here. I’ve made the drive many times and I know I can do it. I’m trying to sober myself up; I can feel myself swaying as I walk. We open the doors and I inhale the crisp air, almost losing my footing. She suddenly appears by my side and I look at her and smile. She has really nice teeth and eyes. They’re brown, I think.
“Keys?” she says holding out her hand and all I can think of is her rubbing that hand up and down my cock. Shit, the sooner we get to my place the sooner I can fuck her.
“It’s a stick shift, mueñca, can you handle that?” It’s hard for me to articulate the words but I somehow manage. We walk toward my car and she opens the passenger door for me. I avoid looking down in fear that might fall and bring her down with me, so she eases me into the seat and places the seatbelt in my hand. Her tank top dips low making me want to rip it open and reveal her flesh.
“Buckle up, sweetheart.” She shuts the door and walks around the car and she adjusts the seat. “Where are we headed?”
“To The Tower.” Her long leg hits the clutch and the movement of the car makes my head spin. As much as I want to keep my eyes open, but the heaviness succeeds.
Lips against my neck, hands rubbing up and down my thighs. “Mmm, yeah baby.” My hips move toward her and awareness to where I am creeps in. I’m still in my car. I open my eyes I look over and the bartender is in the driver seat. She about to unzip my pants when I stop her, she slams her mouth against mine and her moans are enough to make me harder than I already am, I need release.
We are in my apartment and my coordination isn’t the best but for what it’s needed, I’m sure I’ll manage. That tank top has been teasing me and that’s the first thing I’m ripping off her before we even get into the bedroom. Her back slams against the wall in the hall; her kisses are more frantic and her moans are louder. She wraps her legs around my waist and I can feel the warmth of her through my jeans, shit. I walk her toward my bedroom and we fall against the bed. She is moving quickly to remove her shorts. I stand to remove my jeans and kick them aside. I see her naked body sprawled out in front of me and I just want to fuck her, and fuck her hard is what I’m going do. I slip on the condom and pull her toward me along the edge of the bed spreading her wide exposing every crevice and I thrust hard into her. She lets out a yelp followed by a serious of moans. The more she moans and cries out the harder and faster I move into her. I lean down and the sensation I had been longing for is near. I open my eyes and I press deep into her. Her nails dig deep into my back so I grab her hands to secure them above her head. Her breathing is heavier with each thrust, and the way her breasts bounce each time causes me to bite down on her right nipple. She yells out and bucks her hips up, digging my cock deeper into her; the contractions from her release sends me into a state of a frenzy until I feel my body weaken, my toes curl, and my eyes close.
I can barely open my eyes. I manage to look at the time and it’s almost six in the morning. I have a hangover plus a naked female to my left. Fuck. She’s right. I feel one hundred times worse; not only do I have the worst fucking hangover but the hollowness in my heart is even emptier. I inch away from her and looking at her nakedness as the sunlight hits the outline of her curves makes the bile rise. It’s not her, this is all me. I’m disgusted with myself. I run to bathroom just in time to empty whatever contents are in my stomach.
After my shower and a cup of coffee, I’ve called her a cab, just like I’ve done to all the others many times before. I gently shake her awake not really wanting to touch her, she slowly opens her eyes and a small smile breaks across her face. Fuck, no!
“Your cab is waiting downstairs.” Her smile falls and she sits up. I know she’s mad but I really don’t care.
“What? You’re just going to throw me out? Do you even know my name?” She’s mad and still in my bed.
“No, I don’t know your name and I don’t want to. And yes, I got what I wanted so get out.” I hand her clothes and money for her cab. Her eyes are piercing me as she’s dressing. I don’t wait for her in the bedroom. I walk out into the living room, looking out the window into the city. She walks past me and throws the wadded money in my face. “I’m not a whore!” The door slams behind her as she leaves and I feel sick to my stomach about what happened last night.
It seems as if the load I’ve been carrying is heavier than before and she did nothing to alleviate it. I thought she was going to satisfy my need, my hunger, my emptiness but I was wrong and I’m left with having to deal with the grief that has now worsened. My heart is like a rebellious boy; it wants what it apparently can’t have. Sophia.