"Hello," I said rather hoarsely.
It was obvious he had woken me up.
"Hey babe, did you just wake up?" he asked. Guess it wasn’t obvious.
"Yeah, actually, uh, just woke me up from a nightmare," I replied. "It was really creepy." More than creepy really but he needn’t know more.
"Well then it's a good thing I called,” he said. God he was so cheerful. I hated it that he was so cheerful.
"Sure is. What's up?" I asked. I was sure he had called to discuss more than a Freudian - like discussion on what my night terror could mean. Did it point to a more disturbing part of my psyche that I had yet to explore? Anything was possible. Maybe I should see a shrink. Hah. Not likely.
My new-found insecurity had weaseled its way into my dreams and decided to torture my defenseless sleeping mind.
"I think we should go out tonight," he said. "Everybody's heading down to Lana. I think it'll be fun."
I begged to differ. Clubbing was the last thing I wanted to do tonight. I wanted to order some type of super fattening take out and watch a movie. The last thing I wanted to do was put on make-up and wear 6-inch heels that would torture my poor soles an hour after I put them on. Not to mention, the unbelievably uncomfortable short dress I’d be expected to wear.
"Ehh.. I don't think I feel up to it tonight." I stated blankly. "I'm feeling like a bum right now and I'm not in the mood to wear painful shoes and getting wasted."
"Come on please...for me babe," he pleaded. "We haven't had a night out in so long. I'm starting to feel old."
I hated to admit it but, he was right. I'd been turning him down a lot lately. A lot more than usual. I was stressed out. I was growing tired of my own pitiful excuses. It would only be a matter of time before Eric and the rest of our friends would stop asking all together. Which wouldn't really be a problem since then I could stop trying to come up with new excuses for not wanting to go out. Either way, I owed Eric. I had to give in every now and then.
Extremely loud obnoxious music blared from the apartment next door and I sighed. I could stay home and listen to crappy music or I could go out and listen to equally crappy music coupled with overpriced alcohol. The choice suddenly seemed obvious.
I would have to acquiesce for Eric's sake and my own. It would be cruel of me to constantly avoid spending time with him. He deserved more love and attention than I was currently supplying. He deserved more of me. I deserved peace and quiet but I would relinquish my needs tonight in favor of his.
"Ok ok," I complied. "I'll get dressed. Be here in two hours and you better look good." I ran through his wardrobe in my head and frowned.
"And don't try to look like a pimp! I hate when you do that shit!" I playfully shouted into the phone before I hung up.
Time to clean up.
-------
Two hours later, there was Eric. Punctuality was one of the aspects of Eric I loved most. He rang my doorbell, oozing with excitement. I rang him in and as I watched him coming up the stairs I was relieved to see he managed to pull off a decent outfit. He looked good. Really good. Sweet Jesus, if only we had time for a quickie before we left. But I knew there was no time.
I took one final look in the mirror. My long black hair laid pin straight down my back, just the way I liked it. I didn't have much tolerance for any bright colors tonight and so it was moments like these that little black dresses came in handy. Little black dresses or more commonly known as LBD's to women across the world, would forever be in style and could be called upon on any occasion. Funerals, work occasions, clubbing, you name it and you could get away with wearing one of these. This was perfect considering I lacked imagination when it came to style.
I followed the latest trends in magazines and shopped outfits directly from store mannequins. I wasn’t the type to spend hours at the mall matching shoes to belt clasps and earrings to bracelets. The tiny bit of imagination I contained always seemed to involve rolling heads and droplets of blood. I smiled at the thought. Not tonight.
My sky high stilettos looked devilishly good, but I would curse their very existence in a mere hour or two. The dark shadowy eye makeup worked perfectly to create the ultimate illusion of some young- air headed bimbo ditz. The exact opposite of who I actually was or even really looked like. Of course the ensemble in its entirety was meant as a costume. Wasn't it?
One last lip gloss check and I grabbed my clutch and headed out the door. My next door neighbor’s apartment still shook from the intense heavy metal rock music coming through the walls. It really was too loud but I was heading out so he could play on all night if he wanted. Was it a he? I couldn’t be sure. I was never one to pay attention to the neighbors. That is, unless they irritated me.
Eric led the way down the stairs and into his shiny black beamer. It was his dream car as well as mine. I couldn't honestly say I dated Eric for his car but it was an amazing perk.
Its shiny black exterior glimmered under the street lamps. The car was simply a pleasure to ride around in. It was comfy and let's face it, there were far more expensive cars. But there was just something so pleasing about in riding in a brand new, heated leather seated BMW. It made the mundane act of sitting in a moving vehicle to that of an experience in which to enjoy. Speaking of pleasing, I shot a knowing look over to Eric and he turned the key into the ignition. He smiled shaking his head in response to my not so subtle suggestion. I felt my own heat rising and I struggled to control myself.
Eric immediately put the heat on high as I settled into the beige, leather passenger seat. I grabbed an already opened red bull that was sitting in the cup holder between the two front seats. It was still fresh. He started driving and I just couldn't help myself.
I outstretched my right arm and very lightly let my palm rest on his groin. Eric smiled and playfully shooed me away with his hand. "Stop," he said. "I know this game already Jolene,” he said. Eric’s eyes remained on the road. “You're gunna get me rock-hard and then let me walk into the club so everyone can see my boner. You don’t like to play fair."
Busted. I’d toyed with him one too many times. But it never stopped being fun. It just didn’t.
"Come on baby. Let’s play," I begged playfully. "I'm hungry." My hand wandered freely and I began sliding my hand softly up and down his pants. I gave his shaft a tiny squeeze. He could complain all he wanted, his body couldn’t refuse. I watched as his penis rose to the occasion and the pressure mounted between my own thighs in response.
Between my own body temperature and the heated leather seats, it was getting too hot to handle. I reached out and turned off the heat.
"You don't want me to play with him? Hmm? Not even a little?" I teased. Eric's face tensed. Clearly, he was battling his basic male instinct. He assumed I was tricking him into getting hard and would leave him wanting more. But I had something else in mind.
I continued to move my hand up and down Eric’s crotch and made soft little wet kisses down his neck. He maintained his eyes on the road, though it became apparent that it was increasingly difficult for him. He swerved between two cars and dropped his speed by about 10 miles or so. I touched him lightly still and leaned my head onto his chest. I could hear how fast his heart thumped. What a beautiful sound the pumping of Eric’s heart made. He was ready.
Continued kisses down his neck led me to slowly lowering his zipper. Leaving the top button clasped, I carefully removed his girth so only the shaft remained exposed. He was no longer fighting me off. Eric inhaled deeply and it looked like it had taken quite the effort.
At that moment there was nothing more that I wanted but to slide right on top of him. But Eric was driving and I generally entertained the idea of remaining alive both during and after sex.
I stopped torturing him with kisses down his neck and slipped my mouth over him ever so gently. He released a guttural moan. It was what he had been waiting for. His body pleaded with me not to stop. Please, please, please suck it. Please don’t stop. My head bobbed up and down as he strugg
led to maintain control of the wheel. I could just imagine the cars and they swished by shaking their heads in disapproval. It didn’t matter. Their disapproval only added to my excitement. I continued to please him with my mouth until I didn't care if he could control himself. I could no longer control my urge.
"Pull over," I demanded. I continued going down.
"What? Everyone's waiting for us Jolene. Let’s save it for later." he replied, but clearly he couldn’t convince even himself.
"I wasn’t asking, Eric." I was too amped up to just stop so we can go to a nasty club where everyone dry humps each other anyway. I probably could have put on the breaks before. But not now. I was ready. I wouldn’t apologize for that. And I shouldn’t have to.
"Bitch, pull over now!" Ok. Maybe that was a bit over the top. Not to mention mean but he needed to know that I wanted to fuck and I wasn’t taking no for an answer. This relationship had to have some give and take. And though, no one was keeping score per say. I had agreed on coming out tonight for his sake. The least he could do was make me come. It was only fair.
I thought that he would take the next exit and find a semi-secluded spot where our rendezvous would be known only to us. But he didn’t. Eric ripped a page right out of my hand-book and took our romp-session to another level. He veered off onto the shoulder of the Garden State Parkway.
In utter disbelief, I unfastened his seatbelt and climbed on top of him faster than you could say quickie. His fast thinking and taking us right here on the highway for all to see surprised me in a way that was titillating. There wasn't much time. We couldn't be any more visible. And I loved it.
He entered me roughly, and I responded by gyrating back and forth on his girth like a bitch in heat. The passion between the two of us was indescribable. I couldn’t even try. And I wouldn’t. Words had not been invented to describe what we felt for each other. I felt a twinge of sadness.
The windows began to fog fairly quickly from the heavy panting. I ignored the oncoming cars as they zoomed by, slightly shaking our vehicle when some came too close. But nothing halted our need for each other. He grabbed my thighs and thrust into me as I glided up and down.
"Jesus Christ!" I moaned forcefully. I was losing control of my breathe, my legs, and just about everything else. Nothing else existed for those precious moments of carnal indulgence.
"Come on baby," He whispered out of breath into my ear. "I want you to come for me you dirty little slut."
His hips thrust harder as he yanked my hair forcefully. His pull outstretched my neck so as all I could see were the glimmering stars through the open sun roof. I heard his grunts of pleasure as I screamed in delight.
The faster thrusting pushed me to the pinnacle of ecstasy. I yelled, "Baby, I'm coming!!!" as I peered through the glass sun roof gazing at the stars. It was moments like this that I felt that need. That urge to take my finely crafted knife to slice his throat. But I would never. Not with Eric. He was my only sexual conquest that never came to fruition. The only man I didn't kill to fully satiate my post-coital bliss. I sacrificed my need to kill for his need to live. That counted as love..right?
He didn't stop. He pushed on through until he reached his final thrust and erupted inside of me. I enveloped Eric for a few seconds in a loving embrace before I was disrupted by headlights pulling up behind our car.
It was just a normal car. Not the police thank God. Before we even got a chance to fix ourselves, Eric pushed the car into drive and accelerated onto the highway. I leaned into my seat with my head propped up against the passenger seat window. He began talking about this or that. But the words didn’t register as my head continued to buzz. I zoned out staring at the cars as they zoomed by.
Orgasms of that sort required some digestion. There was no diving into normal conversation right after something like that. I continued to stare onto the long road ahead, paying attention to nothing in particular until finally we arrived.
Before I knew it, Eric parked the car and I had to fix myself. I expected my face to look much worse. My face had remained relatively intact. My mascara and eyeliner had run just a smidgen. Both were easily fixed and I added another layer of lip gloss.
"There. Like new," I said taking the last few glances into the tiny mirror.
We walked straight into the club and handed over our ID's. Our friends were already there, in addition to already drunk.
I walked straight to the dimly - lit bar and ordered a shot of Tequila. The music was too loud of course and neon lights beamed streams of red, blue, and green in a million directions at once. I took my shot and signaled for another.
Yeah, maybe this wasn't a bad idea after all. People relied on sex and alcohol to relieve stress and admittedly I was no different. I had no aversion to alcohol. But I’d say my idea of good sex was a bit taboo. Body parts swung left and right as I downed the second shot and made my way towards Eric and the rest of our group.
We danced to the never ending music and took shots as they came our way. It was fun. Bodies moved all around us, some in unison and others, not so much. The urge to kill never once came to the surface. I had Eric to thank for that.
After a few hours of shots, dancing, and then more shots, I somehow made it to my bed in one peace. Finally, I got some of that much needed rest.
Chapter 12
Friday morning hangovers. Just another one of college life's simple pleasures that I couldn’t say I missed. Why oh why did I drink that much? I asked myself this very question after every night out, and I mean every night without fail. Of course, I silently and often-times loudly, promised myself to never drink again. I repeatedly lied to myself therefore, repeatedly suffered in vain.
But today was different. I simply did not have the luxury to sit here and nurse a headache alongside crippling stomach spasms. Whoever sent those notes was coming for me within the next 24 hours.
Was I prepared? I wasn't sure what it was that I needed to prepare. Would they come to my house to chit chat? I highly doubted it. But what other option was there? Perhaps they wouldn't come at all. Maybe they would call...Did they even have my phone number? They obviously wanted my attention. Well, they had it.
Every possibility I entertained seemed to become more and more unfeasible. I was traveling the path least taken. I was in no man's land. For all I knew someone was coming to kill me. Or maybe something more sinister was in store for me.
Nothing in my head made any sense. The irritating thoughts wouldn’t give me a break. Where was that fucking off button?
I turned over and found Eric, sound asleep next to me. He clutched his pillow tight while crouched down into the fetal position. He was so adorable when he slept.
I tip toed out of the bedroom to make myself some badly needed coffee. I went to open the door to retrieve the morning paper when I spotted the black box on top of my coffee table in the living room.
My internal alarm system went off. Warning. Warning. "What- the- fuck?" I whispered. Normally, a package sitting on my coffee table wouldn't be cause for concern. I shopped online regularly. But today of all days...Aside from the fact that I had not recently placed any order, this box raised a flag. Hell, it raised a lot of flags.
My head tilted to the right as I inched closer to the big black box. It appeared to be made of the same material that the previous envelopes had been. The box was silky smooth. It looked big enough to maybe fit a basketball snugly.
I held the box and my nerves started to kick in. It could be a bomb. I probably shouldn't open it. Dramatic, I know. Then again, why would someone send me these vague cryptic messages then take me out without further explanation? I decided against it being a bomb. It was highly unlikely.
I was teetering on the brink of insanity. To open or not to open. This was a sick and twisted game we were playing.
I was feeling irritated again. Usually, I was up to play games but enough was enough. What if Eric had woken before me? He was an earlier riser than myself. I would have had some explaining to do tha
t I wasn’t quite ready for.
I also couldn’t deny my discomfort that this box was not outside of my apartment for me to gather and bring inside. It was already sitting pretty atop my coffee table. Someone had broken in. Presumably, they must have come in while I was out fucking and drinking away my sorrows. I must have missed it on my way in last night.
I was being watched. Dare I say, monitored? Paranoia set in, and I began to look around the living room like a crazy person. Was I losing it? I used to have a more concrete answer for such a preposterous question but I could no longer answer no with absolute certainty.
Were there signs? If so, what were they? Surely, I could Google the signs of going insane. But could I diagnose myself without bias? I wasn’t a medical professional in any sense of the term but how else could I figure it all out?
I stared at the box again. Might as well open it and deal with it now while Eric still lay sleeping. Curiosity might kill this cat and I could only hope that satisfaction would bring me back.
Carefully, I slid a finger under the lid and stopped. Ok. Not a bomb. That much was a relief. Inside the paper wrapping was a black wooden box. It was heavy. Very heavy. I separated the box from its black papery shell and laid it on the table. This was the work of fine craftsmanship. The box was square shaped and rather beautiful.
I opened the front clasp and slowly opened it. My eyes practically jumped out of their sockets. This, I hadn’t been expecting. I had it all wrong. Immediately, I sensed that this was a gift. A very well thought out gift.
Inside the box was a beautifully crafted slicing knife. Similar to the ones I would use to kill an unlucky victim’s throat. But this was much more elegant. I balanced the knife on both of my hands to feel the full weight of it. It was so heavy. I then wielded it as I customarily do. I imagined slicing off a man’s head and I smiled. It felt like Christmas morning when Santa got you exactly what you wanted without having to ask for it.
I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. This was pure perfection. How ironic, that this stranger, whomever he was, could send me this most precious gift. And yet, the people closest to me could never, would never, gift me something anywhere near as close to personal as this.
All of Her Men Page 5