I should have know the moment I laid eyes on him that he would be nothing but trouble. He was beautiful in a way most would find unappealing. He had long black hair and a long black goatee to match. He looked like evil incarnate except for those soft, soulful brown eyes. His was a broken soul which was what probably drew me to him in the first place. I was always thinking I could fix the damaged ones.
It takes a lot of balls to wear a Winnie the Pooh T-shirt with black leather pants at a gay club on "straight" night, but he was always unconventional. It was of course the first thing I noticed. He was nothing like the pretty boys who usually grabbed my attention and if they were lucky enough - would keep it for the evening. No, there was something different about him and my inner diva wasn't going to rest until I conquered him. After all; I almost always got what I wanted. I sauntered up to him in my miniskirt, patent leather boots and my t-shirt with a black patent leather heart on it. I was sexy cute if such a description existed. It was a combination few men could resist. He would be not an exception. Small talk initiated, common ground found as we work in the same mall and the seeds of enchantment planted. By the end of the night, I am making out with him under the harsh lights of the bathroom hallway and I didn't care who saw. Perhaps I should’ve cared since jealously will not only rear her ugly head, that head will be attached to one who despises me most.
The club scene was more cliquish than high school and almost had an inbredness about it. After awhile it was hard to find anyone who hadn't slept with you, your best friend and her room-mate. Loyalty was both paper thin and the strongest bond depending on whose side you were on. You could be despised simply for a friend's actions as I was. Not that I really cared. It was simply fuel for my fire and my fire burned bright. I had no idea that she wanted him but at that point, I am sure she made it her mission to get him. For all I know, she already had him. That was OK by me. All is fair in lust and war.
Feeling rather proud of myself, I presented myself at his store the following day. I was a bit perturbed to find out he barely remembered me and had no recollection of his tongue assaulting my mouth. My inner diva seethed, but my outer self remained cool. "No matter" I told him "I'm simply here for the lipstick". Once it was paid for, I made sure to lock eyes with him and apply it slowly. I licked my lips seductively and quipped "mmm....cherry" as I walked out of the store. I didn't have to look back. I could feel his eyes burning the back of my head. The effect was not lost on him - nor was the lesson. He would have a good 24 hours to ponder his mistake as it was Friday. Friday was the day of rest in our club circuit. The night to recover from Wednesdays and Thursdays indiscretions and prepare oneself for Saturday.
If Wednesday is the script reading. Thursday is the dress rehearsal. Saturday is day night of the show. It is the night you wear your best, you look your best and quite frankly you are your best. I had bigger fish to fry than worrying about a miscreant who couldn't remember kissing me. In fact, I wasn't even thinking about him. Instead every sense of my being to tell me skip the party I was planning on attending prior to the club. I never listen to myself but that night I did. I go to the club solo and everything that could go wrong that night does. Psycho boys giving me love poetry, every ex boyfriend I ever had at the club so show up and I discover why my spidey senses were tingling. My enemy's best friend shows up on the arm of the DJ I thought I was dating. Apparently they had become exclusive that night and the party was their time to announce it to the world. I am sick to my stomach and too drunk to consider driving home. Two disses in two days is more than my inner diva can take. I do what any self-centered beauty would do - I order up another very strong drink and go to the couches and pout. The goddesses of clubbing are not on my side that night and I am ready to chalk it up as a loss....until he strolls in. He is kind of like my black night in tarnished armor. Under any other circumstances, I would have told him to fuck off but I am weak and my fragile ego is bruised.
He sits down next to me and I coldly ask him why he is sitting next to me when he could barely remember me? By this time, the amount of alcohol I have consumed and my emotions conspire against me and I just cry. The kind of cry that only makes sense when you are drunk and feeling sorry for yourself. He apologizes for Thursday night by offering up excuses of drunkenness and pain killers. He tells me his coworkers admonished him for forgetting such a detail and he wipes the tears from my eyes. Tilting my chin up so that I am forced to look at him with probably the most acute case of raccoon eyes - he then kisses me. It isn't the "drunken I don't care who is watching" kind of kiss. It is one that feels genuine. I can sense he really feels bad and I am too weak to stay mad. I surrender myself to his lips and because of the intoxication, I allow myself to be lost in the moment. Very few people can cause me to lose control of my sense of self, but I feel hypnotized in a sense. I am no longer pouting. I lead him, he who I despised hours before, out of the club and back to my car. He will come home with me. We will have very primal, passionate sex. I will wake up in the morning and he will be there next to me and I will be overcome with a feeling I can't comprehend. I mean he isn't the first club boy I have woken up next to the next day. Even after a serious live-in boyfriend a couple of relationships on the side - nothing has ever felt as real as it does right then. My spidey senses should have been telling me to run, but instead it seems to be as enthralled with him as I am.
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From that moment on, we are an unspoken item. We are inseparable for the most part. I parade him around like the freak trophy he is and he brings me food when I am working 12 hour mall shifts. We talk all the time. When I am not with him, he is all I think about. My mother does not approve. My room-mate despises him and my friends just don't get it. On one hand it is an extremely sexual relationship. He excites parts of me that had never been stirred, but there is more to it than that. I feel connected to him in every way, shape and form. What I don't know, is that while I am pining for him when we are apart - he is with her. Probably making her feel the same way. Feeding her the same lines. Telling her we are just friends and not to over react much like he tells me. I know he is lying to me, but I am in too deep and have lost control. He will ask me to move out of state with him and I will answer yes and not think twice. I have to wonder now if he was ever going to tell me he asked the same of her. Eventually it will come to a head and I will give up the fight.. I do not have the time to fight this fight nor do I have the energy. He has sucked out my soul and I feel as though I am a shell of person.
He will call and I will ignore him. When I finally have no tears left to cry, I agree to meet him downtown. We meet a biker bar of all places. He is already drunk. I am yet again immune to him. My head is saying NO NO NO, but my body yearns for him. I take him home and he throws up in my car. He swears they are done and I am the only one he wants to be with. I fall for it and nurse him back to sober. I don't entirely trust him, but I need him. I do keep him at arms length though. The following week after not hearing from him - I resign myself yet again to be done. I run into her at the club. We hug and exchange apologies for every letting a man come between the bonds of womanhood. They are the falsest platitudes ever spoken. She plays nice because she knows she is there with him tonight. He is with his friend whom I will bed at a later date in hopes it gets back to him. Somehow he does it again. I guess my platitudes are false because there is so much tension that we don't even make it my apartment.
We get as far as my little hatchback. We are all over each other. Our needs can not be satiated and somehow we manage to get it on in hatch. Not an easy accomplishment when one person is over 6 feet tall and all legs. The Charger is rocking, my ass is plastered to the back window offering maybe the few who haven't seen me naked a free glimpse. Our bodies are entwined, our breathing is heavy and I feel like there is nothing else in the world except the two of us Then we hear it. She is running frantic around the parking lot looking for him. He has her keys, I am have him. Once we hear the shrieks of what sounds like a banshee diminish - we head back to my place to finish what we started. A mad, pensioned, fevered lust. Perhaps it is so intense because it is a grudge fuck. Perhaps because I know I loved him and she wanted him just so I couldn't. Maybe subconsciously I know this is the end. The morning sun rises and it hits me that after everything he has told me, swearing a week ago they were done - he went to the club with her. If I hadn’t shown up, he would have fucked her last night instead of me. I take him back to her car and tell him I never want to see him again and drive off. It is the most liberating thing I have ever done and yet my heart is broken. I am however; finally free of trouble.
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