It was as if with every kind gesture or “I love you”, he was trying to say “never love me so much that you have to sacrifice yourself and everything you are for me”. And whenever I said “I love you” back, there was a little voice in my head that bluntly replied that I would never even consider loving him more than I love myself, and if the moment came, I would give him away for something that’s completely worthless compared to how much he meant to me - and I would simultaneously regret it forever whilst not caring at all. When I hear this in my head, I almost feel guilty for kissing his lips, telling him that I actually care for him.
How can I live with myself knowing that I have never genuinely loved him? It may not be the truth, but it certainly feels that way. It was dark and windy, and I struggled to walk straight; my sight was blurred by dizziness and fatigue as I buried my pockets in a full coat. As I walked down the street, I stopped briefly to look at my reflection at a car window. I wiped the black tears from my face and tried to brush thoughts of him from my mind. When worry shows on the face, it’s hard to hide. That was the last thing I wanted people to see tonight. Tonight I needed to be brave.
I stationed by a small tree by a local club, smiling at the drunks that came by. I would try and make eye contact with anyone who would give me a the time of night. It would only take a short conversation to let them know that I was ready to be taken home, or anywhere with some heating. I’m not interested in a night on the streets again. For some reason I have the feeling that it’s going to take a bit more time to be noticed tonight. I waited through the cold, tried to stay warm - there aren’t many people looking my way. The odd guy eyeing me up but not willing to pay for his play. I was worried, time was running out quick and I had gone to three different locations to catch a break. Luckily my night wasn’t wasted, an hour later, at around 1 o’clock, I get a wink my way. She wore a white vest top under a big jacket with some black skinny jeans and boots. We flirted, asked she what I was doing this cold night. The question burnt me, but I replied coolly.
“Waiting for you to take me away.”
She reached for my hand and gently kissed it. She was polite enough. For today, she would be my saviour. We walked for a little while, and she told me that she’s just left this club downtown called the Crystal Gates and was a bit tipsy. She doesn’t seem it. Unfortunately, home was far for her, but she said that there was a hotel nearby and asked if I wanted to join her.
She says her name is Alex. No last name mentioned. We enter a yellow room. She is short, tattooed and very fat. She has dark eyes and short dark hair to match. It is so oilled so excessively that when I touched it, it made my palms moist. It was probably a metaphor, because in light, she was unappealing, sticky and gross. Inside I smiled a little, because from the moment I saw her, I knew she was a confident kisser lacking talent. We had gotten drunk on our way over. Vodka from my bag, kissing under the streetlights, touching fingers.
When I think of her, what sticks out in my mind was how revolting her smell was. It seems that her night at the club had manifested itself into an unmistakable and foul stench. Her soggy sweat and bad breath left me dizzy. I had to be careful not to show the disgust I felt in the pit of my stomach when she kissed on the mouth and grabbed my hips. This probably isn’t her first time picking someone up. Her clammy hands reached under my top and to she started to squeeze my breasts. I let out a forced moan and turned my head away so I could avoid smelling her breath. She got me onto the bed, and she must’ve got the idea that I didn’t like it, because not long after she got me to undress. She didn’t really care, she wanted a good time. She towered over me while I took my clothes off. While I stripped down her eyes fixated on me, her veiny eyes glanced along my body. She called me ‘pretty’. Her breath was already heavy, heaving… excited. You’d think that would be the best part of my escape, hearing people compliment you, but her words are empty to me.
She fucked me, first fast and tough - but she soon ran out of breath, so she deviated to going me slower and harder with her hand clasped around my neck. I was lying on my back. It was only when her hand was holding me that I noticed how small and childlike her hands were and it made me feel sick. I engaged enough to keep her happy and get her off quicker - but my mind just kept wandering. Where was he now? Will I return to him? I didn’t want to think about it. I went on top. I started to take a closer look at her body - her chest - they were big with stretch marks. Both her breasts and nipples were quite big, so I assumed she might’ve had a baby. Or maybe she was just fat. I guess I wouldn’t be one to know what a woman’s body would look like after such a change. While I sucked them I thought about the baby she might have had. Was it noisy? Did it make her cry? Did she feel confined and isolated? I would never know. It would be something we had in common at least. She suddenly grasped my face and tried to kiss me. She was strong. I let it happen.
She gave me some notes and change for the night. I was just grateful for a bed. She left around 7 in the morning. She woke me up, closing the door as she left the room. The bed still smelt of her, but I thought how it would smell of many others later. I thought I would stay a little while longer, but not overstay my welcome. I got into a gown, bit into my nails, and switched on the TV.
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