Chapter Fourteen - Luke
Days become weeks until it’s been a month. I’m on the phone with Yvonne again. “It’s been weeks, baby,” I insist, but she’s playing hard to get. She can smell it on me. The desperation.
“I don’t know, Luke. Every time I come over to your place, I feel like a pizza delivery. I come, we do it, I leave.”
“Yeah, but a very good pizza. You can’t deny that, right? And you said it yourself, babe, you come.”
She giggles.
“I’ve got some pizza, actually, now that you mention it,” I say, which is a lie. “And maybe we could watch that new Star Wars movie.”
A sigh, though we both know Yvonne’s excitedly dancing around in her panties as we speak.
“Ok, I’ll be there in 10.”
When she hangs up, I sigh to myself. A glance at the calendar reveals that, yes, a month has somehow, impossibly, passed. A month since I threw out that ripped condom, feeling a strange twist of foreboding in my gut. A month of nonstop activity, of going through new girls at a turnover rate faster than McDonald’s. Of more drinking, more fast food, more jerking off, more clubbing, more more. Now, sitting here, just sick enough to feel like shit and still make it to work, the why is obvious. It’s Emma. I’ve been trying to fuck her, drink her, eat her away – and all I’ve got to show for it is this shitty feeling that’s only been worsening with each new week.
No, there’s been no word of her – no sign of her. At least not in the pointless Google searches I’ve tried on the internet. I never knew that much about her, after all. Not any friends or hobbies at least. Nothing really but stupid Planet Earth and that she’s an online tutor for some website. Finding her isn’t working and forgetting her isn’t either.
On autopilot, I call Pizza Pizza and order a large pepperoni. When the door finally rings, I shuffle to it in the same dull haze. Maybe pizza will work or maybe Yvonne will. For now.
At the door is both Yvonne and the pizza.
“You lied,” Yvonne says with a giggle, striding past me through the door as I deal with the pimpley pizza boy. I hand him a 20, tell him to keep the change, then take the box.
Inside, Yvonne’s lounging on the kitchen chair. I plop the pizza down and we get eating.
“No plates?” Yvonne asks.
I say nothing and keep on eating. So, we eat in silence, pizza slice after slice. Each one I don’t enjoy, hardly notice. All I know is that eating is better than not eating. I don’t stop until the last slice is done – until I’ve wiped the sauce off my face and turn to Yvonne.
“You ok?” she asks.
I throw myself on her in response. She tastes like pizza, or maybe it’s me. She’s wearing a sticky sort of lip gloss, a weird tang of chemicals. When I move to her neck, it tastes like chemicals too. Self-tanner, maybe. It doesn’t matter. I rip off her scratchy top, grab her tits. She’s moaning already and it’s good, because I was ready the moment she walked in the door. I carry her to my bedroom, toss her on the bed. She says something I don’t hear. I undo her pants and pull them down. Her panties are gray like chemicals. I pull them down, get to the place I need. She’s wet enough to do it, so I do. I shove a finger in.
“Pull it out,” I tell her, and she does. She undoes my pants, pulls down my boxers, grabs my dick.
But I didn’t come here for that, so I shove my dick into her, into her half-wet pussy. And then I close my eyes, let my cock follow the feeling, the feeling, in and out, and I almost forget. I almost feel better, in and out. She’s moaning now and I’m groaning, too. In and out and it feels so good. Fuck, this is just what I needed. What I need – always.
I close my eyes and, for a minute, I forget who I’m fucking. Yvonne makes a strange sound and now it’s Emma who my dick’s inside, her whole juicy body jiggling with my rod. Her once-virginal head laid back in pleasure. And it’s so good. I’m cumming, pounding her, cumming and cumming, groaning with my orgasm, this ecstasy of release.
And then I open my eyes and remember it’s Yvonne. I pull myself out, wipe myself off, then roll to the far side of the bed and stare at the wall. I feel worse than ever. Because now, I don’t even have the hope that a quick fuck will make the pain go away. Now, I have nothing. Not Emma, not anything.
At some point, Yvonne slips out. As I lay there, the realization of what I really need settles over me like an ice-cold shroud. It’s Emma. Emma is the one I need, the one I want. Emma is the only one who will make this – any of this – better. And, conversely, she is the one thing I can’t have – not just because it would ruin me, but because I can’t find her.
I fall asleep and wake up minutes or maybe hours later. In an almost dreamlike haze, I walk into Parker’s room, stepping on a toy. Lifting it up reveals a tiny magnifying glass. I stare at it for a minute before I tuck it in my pocket. Then, I return to my room, to my bed. Now, finally, I can rest easy. Now, finally, I have a plan.