Where it happened: His house
Langauge: English
Sex: Female
Rating: 2
Category: Straight
We met by accident. I was trapped in my own beleaguered mind and he was so naive and easily charmed, even though he was older than I. Depression can do strange things to your logic. I used him to quietly say, “fuck you” to the person who had eaten my heart a month before. And this is what happened: we met between shelves once, twice, then progressed to a bus, a house, an awkward stoned kiss that bloomed from one day into two, three, seven, thirty-two. Our hands wandered. Our thoughts wandered. And then someone accidentally turned off the lights. It was like the room was filled with electricity: My friend thoughtfully left and locked the door behind her. We tried, clothes all over the floor, but it wouldn’t go in, so we half-dressed and went to apologize to my ostracized friend. A week later, we tried again, and this time I bit my lip so hard it bled, angry, aware, filled with a sick sense of satisfaction at having disposed of the thing The Other Man wanted. I left my shirt on. I was so proud that I hadn’t made a noise. Afterward, I wanted to shake him off and leave, but he fluttered anxiously and excitedly around me, wanting to talk and analyze and laugh. I didn’t feel cruel, just hollow and bitter. I didn’t bleed.
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