Wonderwall, noun
Someone you find yourself thinking about all the time; a person you are completely infatuated with.
Lights flashed in my eyes, the drinks I’d had making my body numb. I swayed to the music, my fingers in my hair and running down over my face and my curves seductively. I kept my eyes closed as I danced, knowing I had everybody’s attention on me. It felt fucking good.
I loved nothing more than dancing like this after I’d had some shots. I loved the music they played in the clubs, too; loud and boisterous, perfect for blocking out anything and everything else.
“Bebe!”
I heard someone shouting my name over the sound of the music, but I pretended not to notice.
I needed to drown it all out. The noise helped me replace the endless pain in my head, the horrible memories that made me feel sick, the knowledge that I was heading down the same path Posy had taken, even though I’d sworn to myself I wouldn’t do it.
“BEBE!”
I opened my eyes, anger flooding my body as they locked with my friend Arden’s.
“What do you want?” I hissed at her, but instead of answering me, she grabbed my arm and pulled me to the side, leaning against the wall and staring into my eyes with determination.
The music thumped through my body as I waited for Arden to explain herself.
“That guy over there,” she told me over the sound of the bass. “He asked me if you were Bebe when I went to get us drinks. I think he’s into you.”
She motioned to one side of me, and I looked over to see if he was of any interest to me.
The guy she was talking about had a stocky build. He was taller than me, but not that tall, wearing a varsity jacket over a V-neck shirt and distressed jeans. His hair was long on top and short at the sides and he wore biker boots with the outfit.
He was handsome.
Sexy.
But painfully boring.
I guess he would do for the night.
I looked back at Arden with a smile playing on my lips and winked at her. She smiled wide.
“So who have you got your eye on tonight?” I asked her, and she shrugged with a grimace.
“I don’t know. I’m not really into anyone here. I guess I’ll just call Nick again…” she sighed.
“That guy is boring as shit,” I reminded her.
“But he adores me,” she said, and I nodded thoughtfully.
I couldn’t see myself with anyone like Arden’s Nick. He was her oldest friend, blinded with love for her since she’d been a little girl. He was always following her around, trying to convince her he was worth her time. But the thing was, neither Arden nor I were interested in good guys like Nicholas Mackey.
They didn’t get me wet like the ones who choked me and spat in my face while they fucked me. And if they called me a slut on top of it all, I was fucking guaranteed to squirt all over their dicks.
“I guess I’ll see you soon?” I asked Arden, and she shrugged again, miserably this time.
I felt sorry for her, but my pity didn’t last long because as soon as I walked away from her, the guy who’d been checking me out came up to me.
He wore a sexy smirk on his face and a look of determination passed through his eyes as they locked with mine.
“Hello, trouble,” he said with a toothy grin, and I fluttered my lashes at him.
“Hi, handsome,” I purred as he reached for my arm, gently stroking down my skin.
Once he reached my wrist, he grabbed onto it, his fingers rough and calloused against my skin.
“You wanna have some fun?” he asked, opening my palm up with his fingers.
I looked down to find a small pill in it.
Memories flooded me with the intensity of a punch to the face.
Posy.
Pretty Posy with her red hair and full lips, laughing, smiling, chattering away.
Promiscuous Posy in a sexy hot pink dress that clashed with her hair spectacularly, dancing, always dancing.
Sad Posy, crying, telling me about her fucked-up family, about everything she’d been through.
Sexy Posy, leaning into me, capturing my lips in a kiss that told me all her secrets.
Dead Posy. Her face unnaturally white, her lips blue.
She was gone gone gone—and I was here here here.
I smiled weakly at the guy, raised my palm to my lips and licked up the pill with the tip of my tongue. I showed it to him and he leaned into me, taking my mouth in a rough kiss. I swallowed it before he could get a taste, the drug disintegrating inside me and showing me how to have fun fun fun.
Like Posy never would again.
He moved away from me and I opened my mouth wide, sticking my tongue out to show him I’d swallowed.
“Good girl,” he muttered in my ear, his fingers wrapping around my waist possessively. “Come on, let’s dance.”
I let him lead me to the dancefloor and I let the pretty little pill work its magic.
I danced with the guy, never stopping to wonder what his name was.
The club exploded in front of my eyes in a beautiful mess of lights and sounds. I watched, mesmerized, as the whole room was transformed into a magical wonderland where I held Posy with one hand and the guy with my other. I danced and danced and danced, and drank so much I felt so dizzy, I thought I was going to be sick from the world spinning around me so very fast.
I left the wonderland and came back to earth when we stumbled out of the club, laughing loudly and making out. He tried to hail a cab and I giggled and retched over the pavement, then giggled again. I wasn’t going to throw up. I didn’t want to. It would mean the pretty fun pill would stop working, and then I’d have to remember.
I hated remembering.
We chose my apartment, and the guy pushed my legs apart in the back of the cab, trying to feel up my pussy.
I moaned for him, pretty noises meant to get him harder.
It was distracting the driver, who kept glancing back at us in the rearview mirror. I grinned at him and parted my legs wide, showing him a glimpse of my pussy because I wasn’t wearing panties that day. He stared at me, his eyes harsh and unforgiving, and I laughed my ass off.
The guy whose name I still didn’t know paid the cab driver, and I dragged him towards my apartment building. In the elevator, he was all over me, his mouth hungry and his fingers too daring for such a public place. He fucked my pussy carelessly, as if it meant nothing, sliding his fingers so deep inside I squealed in pain and delight.
I didn’t usually come across guys who were this rough.
I unlocked the front door with shaky fingers and we fell laughing into my apartment. He poured us drinks and I wandered into the bedroom, standing next to the window and taking one last breath of fresh air. I knew in the next few minutes I wouldn’t be able to breathe with his fat cock stuffed down my throat.
I reached for the curtains, feeling dizzy as fuck as I tried to force them to close. I glanced up to see what the problem was, but my eyes locked on the apartment across the street instead.
He was in his living room, his palm against the window, his grin discernible even from this distance.
He was staring right at me, his hand down the waistband of his pants and his fingers jerking, tugging, getting off.
I looked into his eyes, his face shrouded in darkness but still making my pussy clench at the sight of him.
Through the haze of the drugs I’d taken, the drinks I’d had, I tried to remember the night a few days ago when he’d fucked that girl while looking right at me, getting off with her as if she were nothing more than a cum-toy ready to please his dick.
He was staring at me as he jerked himself off, and I couldn’t tear my eyes off him.
He tilted his head to the side, giving me a questioning look. And then I remembered it, his silly dare, the tight feeling in my pussy whenever I thought about it.
My turn.
I shook my head and smiled at him and he sighed with a big grin.
He made my heart pound, and it was only a moment later that I realized my hand had wandered between my legs and I was stroking the inside of my thighs.
He laughed at me, throwing his head back and pulling his hand out of his pants. I stared and stared and stared some more. There was something about him. Something that made me want to do everything he said.
Strong, muscular arms wrapped around me from behind, and I kept staring into my neighbor’s eyes as the guy from the club kissed a line down my jaw and over my throat.
His hand went back inside those pants and I watched him get off while I moaned for the man inside my bedroom, grinding my ass all over his dick. He grunted and tore my dress off, shredding it to pieces. I gasped at the feeling of cool air on my skin, my eyes fearfully seeking out my neighbor’s.
He looked like he was in pain, his muscles taut and stretched as he palmed his cock. He pushed his pants lower down his hips and showed me his fucking impressive cock, throbbing and ready to burst in his fist.
I let the guy from the club push me against the window, my tits exposed for everyone to see if only they glanced up. But there was only one person I cared about, and it was the man across the street. I wanted him to see me like this. And I was going to stare him down as I came, thinking it was his cock rammed all the way inside me.
The guy fucked me savagely, slapping my legs apart and pushing himself inside me, a groan leaving his lips as his cock entered my cunt. He started thrusting, long, painful and deliciously perfect movements of his hips sending my body into overdrive. I was desperate to get off.
I felt the effects of the pill loosening as I got ravaged. I felt the numbness from the alcohol going away, seeping through my pores and leaving me horribly, painfully aware of what was going on.
Another night.
Another guy.
Another meaningless fuck that got me off and left with a fleeting kiss on my mouth and a drained cock hanging limply between his legs.
So I looked at my neighbor and I came for him instead.
I looked right into his eyes as I let my body convulse with another dick in my pussy, fucking his cum inside me like his life depended on it. He was still rough, but it was painfully obvious he was using me to get off. He didn’t give a shit whether I came or not. He just wanted my cunt to milk his cock dry.
And it did.
He lifted my leg when he was close, grabbed it from behind and forced my thigh up, giving my neighbor a better view of my stretched pussy. I felt him coming, his hot jizz running inside me, draining him and filling me up instead.
The whole time, my eyes were on the mystery man across the street. And I didn’t move away from the window, even when the guy kissed my cheek, slapped my ass and left my apartment. Instead, I braced my palms against the glass and kept looking, kept staring at the stranger who now had his fingers covered in the hot sticky cum I’d made him spill.
I let him see everything. My shaky legs, the guy’s release oozing out of my pussy and dripping slowly to the floor. My hair sticking to my forehead, my sweaty body that I hated so much, my face messy with running makeup. I let him see it all, and I let myself come apart for him.
I let myself cry for Posy, for the girl I used to be, for the girl I was. I let the tears flow freely, my body convulsing in silent shivers as the tears ran down my face. I let it happen for as long as it needed to, and by the time I was done, I was too scared to look back up, absolutely certain Mr. Neighbor had gotten sick of me and turned his back on my pathetic figure a long time ago.
But when my eyes wandered up, he was still there, his gaze firmly fixed on me.
And he was holding something up to the window.
A piece of paper with a phone number scribbled on it in big, chunky numbers.
I looked at him and saw something in his eyes that scared me.
Desperation.
The same ugly, bad, broken desperation that looked back at me every time I passed a mirror.
With shaky fingers, I took my phone from my purse lying on the floor and sent him a message.
Dare you to call me.