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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
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Screwing My Ex
by Rogue Writer (roguewriter@hotmail.com)
***
After being dumped in the worst way, a young woman
devises a plan of revenge against her ex-girlfriend,
also in the worst way. (FF, exh, v, mast, oral, anal)
***
DISCLAIMER: In case the codes above are Greek to you,
this is a sex story with lots of good ol' down home sex
scenes. If this doesn't interest you, stop reading. If
this does interest you, get some popcorn and a drink,
put it aside for later, grab your partner or whatever
you use when you don't have a partner, and get ready to
have some fun.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Even though I use a mental condition as
a story device in this tale, I do not think people
should be judged by such things and readers should not
assume that those who struggle with mental imbalances
or social disorders would act in this manner.
***
It was half past ten in the morning on an early
November day, and I had a surprise appointment to keep.
I strode down Thirty Second Street in New York City
with a purposeful stride in my gait. My clothes were
chosen carefully – the dark jacket with a fur collar
that Amber had always thought was so sexy and the knee
length black boots with two-inch heels. She picked out
both items when we went shopping once, telling me that
she would always be turned on when I wore them. It was
something I counted on for today.
As I walked some people occasionally looked or even
leered at me. I was used to stares, mostly because
people felt a six-foot tall Asian woman was some kind
of oddity, but today part of it was the outfit. I felt
a little rush, thinking if they only knew what was
underneath this coat. Unfortunately, and all too soon,
that rush was taken over by nerves. There was a part of
me that knew this whole thing was insane, that I was
not thinking clearly, and that if I turned around right
now, headed home and took my pills, the pain and anger
I was feeling might subside sooner than I thought.
But as I mentioned this was only a very small part of
me thinking rationally. The rest was pure temper, a
white-hot fire of rage that was saying something along
the lines of,
"FUCKING ROTTEN CUNT BITCH WHORE I'M GOING TO KILL THAT
STUPID WENCH AND STUFF HER INTO A TOOTHPASTE TUBE AND
SQUEEZE HER OUT SLOWLY ONTO A BED OF HOT COALS AND
WATCH HER WRITHE IN AGONY WHILE I LAUGH!"
Okay, so I tend to get slightly eloquent when I'm
angry, probably because I've had plenty of practice. My
temper is legendary among my family and friends, and
some have joked that my name, Blossom, has more to do
with anger rather than botany. I've been seeing
psychologists ever since high school, all of them
trying to help me control my rage and occasional fits
of depression with varying degrees of success. Most
have used medication, and at first that seemed like a
great cure.
But whenever I forget to take my pills the feelings
come back ten times stronger than before, mixing with
negative memories that fuel my rage even further, and
sometimes it all leads me to do things I regret. I
haven't taken my pills for several days now, and even
in my current state I could tell this was shaping up to
be one of those times.
"I heard you stabbed a girl once."
Amber was looking at me sitting on a toilet. We were in
a lesbian club called The Litter Box, and I had just
run away from a table full of friends, taking refuge in
the bathroom and forgetting to close the stall door
because I was so upset. Seeing her face made me realize
how the dim club lighting hid her beauty. Amber stood
there waiting for a response, and even though she had
an easygoing air about her, I felt the weight of her
stare.
"It was a long time ago," I said. "Back in high
school."
The left corner of Amber's mouth came up in a half
smile. "I was in high school once. Don't recall
stabbing anyone."
Most stall doors are cheap shit and only stay in two
positions – locked or open.
I threw the stall door so hard that it actually stuck
shut. My eyes struggled to hold back the tears that
came with the memories that had been dredged up. I
could hear Amber's footsteps as they came up to the
door.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Talking always helped me, at least with my
psychiatrist. I opened the door. Amber stood there with
a concerned look on her face.
"You know," I started, "my mom always said, "What goes
around comes around." It was like her credo. Whenever
someone did something fucked up, I could just count
three seconds and mouth it right along with her 'cause
she was that predictable with it." I shook my head.
"I'm still waiting to see it really happen."
The story started when I was in high school and a new
girl had come to town. She was a beautiful redhead
named Heather Pollard, and the moment I saw her I fell
in love. Every time I passed her in the hall I felt a
rush of excitement, and when I had a class with her I
spent all my time stealing glances and daydreaming of
being in a relationship with her. It was the kind of
thing you did at fifteen when you knew in the back of
your mind it would never happen, but you kept hoping
and dreaming.
Then it really happened. Heather slipped me a note one
day as we were leaving class. It said she had heard
rumors about my sexuality and hoped they were true
because she was very interested. No words could
adequately describe the soar of excitement, the rushing
of the blood, the lightheadedness, the feeling that I
could jump over a building or run ten miles without
losing steam. Bullets would have bounced off of me that
afternoon.
Following instructions in the note, I met Heather later
that day behind a local building and we made out for a
while. After that she told me her parents were going
out of town for the weekend and I could stay over her
place Friday night. Nothing felt real on my walk home
that day. What was only a dream had quickly become
reality.
When we talked on the phone Heather told me she'd had a
girlfriend back home but they broke up after she left.
I told her that I'd never been with anyone except
myself, but apparently I'm very good because my body
was always satisfied. She laughed, which sounded like
musical notes to my ears, and said she couldn't wait to
show me how much better it is with someone else.
When I got to her place that Friday we went to her room
and made out for a little while, then she asked me to
strip. Heather wanted to watch me masturbate and see
how good I was, so she planted herself in a chair in
front of the bed. I stood and took off my clothes
without ceremony and spread myself on the bed. This all
felt crazy, so I sat there for a moment and soaked in
the excitement, sitting naked on another girl's bed
while she admired my body, about to perform a sexual
act with an audience.
With a feather light touch I started running my fingers
around my breasts, letting goose bumps raise up at the
sensation. I took each nipple between my thumbs and
forefingers and gave a squeeze, followed by some
caressing and then another pinch. Heather smiled and
that sent a wave of electricity through me.
My breath started to catch occasionally, and I felt a
familiar tingle start to grow south of my belly button.
I moved my hands away from my breasts and sent them
roaming all over my body – up and down along my sides,
down my crotch and over my mound, up and down my upper
legs, and over my tummy until I was back up to my
breasts. While I did this I sighed and moaned at the
sensation, occasionally adding in the same sound I make
whenever anything caramel touches my lips.
Heather was enthralled at what I was doing. This meant
the time I'd spent sitting in the library reading sex
education books and surfing the Internet for lewd
stories instead of doing schoolwork had been a proper
redirection of my efforts. I'd have to pat myself on
the back when my hands weren't so busy. Right now they
were teasing my pubic hairs as I spread my legs open,
for the first time displaying my most private areas to
another human being who didn't have the letters 'MD'
after their name.
I slid my fingers along my folds, which were already
moist from the full body massage, and used my
fingertips to tease the sensitive flesh. Maybe it was
the excitement of the moment, or maybe it was the
comfort I felt at meeting another lesbian, but I
automatically said the words I usually say as soon as
my hands touch my pussy. "Hello, lover."
Heather giggled and I was suddenly aware of what I had
uttered. But the smile on her face was warm and that
put me at ease. Bringing one hand back up to my face as
the other continued to play with my pussy, I made a
show of licking the honey off of my fingertips,
basically over dramatizing in the way a fifteen year-
old who was doing something to impress another person
would. But seeing Heather's jaw drop made me feel like
I was doing it just right.
A moan came from deep within me as I slid a finger
inside of myself. I could tell Heather was getting
excited because she bit her lip as her legs bounced up
and down and her face had a look of bottled excitement,
like a ten-year-old kid on Christmas Eve. I started
moving my finger in and out slowly, making a big show
of it by planting my feet on the bed, leaning on my
shoulders and bringing my hips up so she could see the
action clearly.
"That's so cool," she said.
The words made me soar. Ever since Heather talked about
the sexual experiences she'd had with her girlfriend, I
started worrying that my inexperience might hurt my
chances to be with her. That's why impressing Heather
became so important, and once it was accomplished I
wanted to reap the reward for my efforts. Lowering my
hips down to the bed, I looked at her and asked, "You
want to join me?"
With a wide smile she said, "I want to see you finish
yourself off. After that, I'll show you what I can do."
That spurned me on to finish quickly. I lay back,
brought my fingers up to my clit and began to tease it,
getting to several highs before I finally felt the big
one coming. Something about Heather watching me made it
so much more exciting, her eyes looking at my body like
she was surveying a scrumptious desert. Our pupils met
every now and then, and a wicked smile crossed her
face. My climax racked my body like an earthquake, and
for a moment I thought I heard something actually hit
the floor.
And suddenly I realized something did hit the floor. A
sound coming from the closet, followed by voices. My
eyes went to the slightly open door and then to
Heather. Her smile turned into a laugh, and I could
feel in my gut that something was very wrong here.
Before I could say anything the closet door flew open
and two guys from school, Jimmy Bower and Pete Trallos,
came barreling out. Pete was holding a video camera and
walked straight up to the bed with it. I remember
screaming, somehow grabbing most of my clothes, and
running away.
The rest of the weekend was spent in my room crying. My
parents kept asking me what was wrong, but the
situation wasn't exactly something I could talk to them
about. Heather had totally humiliated me. I kept
wondering why she did it, and what kind of person could
do such a thing. Bouts of depression took turns with
fits of rage, and I broke more than a few things in my
room. My dad ended up calling my psychiatrist at home.
After two hours she managed to calm me down, but
nothing could take away the sting of what had happened.
I thought it was the worst thing I'd ever experienced.
How wrong I was.
Monday and Tuesday I faked sickness to avoid school,
not wanting to face Heather and those two boys. But
when I finally went in on Wednesday I saw Heather in
the hallway, hanging out with Pete and his group. She
spotted me down the hall, waved and called out, "Hello,
lover!"
I could hear the group break out in laughter as I ran
away. I made it to homeroom and thought I was safe.
"Hello, lover."
The words sent a shock wave down my spine, especially
when I realized it wasn't Heather, Pete or Jimmy. There
were giggles around the room. Looking around to see who
said it, I suddenly realized most everyone was staring
at me. I took out a book and buried my face in it,
trying not to cry or scream or run, wishing it would
all just go away.
Later, a friend told me the video of my masturbation
session had been posted on the Internet, and Pete and
Heather, who were now an item, told everyone where to
find it. Blind rage took over, and I don't really
remember getting the knife. According to the police
report I stole it from the cafeteria kitchen.
I do remember stabbing Heather, that moment is vividly
clear in my mind. As I walked up to her in the hallway,
she smiled and said, "Hello, lover," again. I replied,
"Goodbye bitch!" and plunged the blade into her
shoulder.
"I was sentenced to juvie for a few months," I told
Amber. By this time we had made our way to a coffee
shop. "They took pity on me because I told them I had
planned to stab her in the shoulder."
"Told them," Amber said, and then she was silent for a
few moments, her eyes staring straight into mine. In a
soft, shallow voice she said, "You weren't aiming for
her shoulder, were you?"
I looked away. This was one of those moments I wished
you could erase those parts of your past you didn't
like, somehow starting over fresh, without all the
mistakes you made before. "No," I said, as my voice
broke slightly. "I was aiming for her heart. Blind
luck, she moved at the last moment."
Suddenly I realized I had arrived at my destination. Va
Vem was an exclusive clothing store on Thirty-Second
that sold trendy styles to rich yuppies. I took a deep
breath. Did I really need to do this? Four months since
it had happened and the pain had just begun to fade.
Why reopen the wound? This was a plan I had come up
with the night before while drunk, and finally stopping
to think about it, I realized that what I was about to
do was incredibly stupid. But then I noticed what the
mannequin was wearing – an outfit for a grown woman
that included a plaid skirt and vest, made to look like
a schoolgirl's outfit. Who's to say what's stupid?
I reached into my jacket pocket and touched the cold
steel object in there. Feeling it gave me a sense of
power. It made risking jail time seem worth it.
"Fuck it," I said to the mannequin like it could hear
me, and walked in the door.
The whole place was done in bright white walls and
hardwood floors, and as Amber had told me so many times
it was devoid of customers at this early hour. Down a
walkway flanked by tables and cubbyhole stands filled
with clothes was a checkout counter, and behind that
counter stood Amber, folding up some sweaters. I looked
at her straight auburn hair that I had washed so many
times in the shower, her thin, willowy arms that had
embraced my body, and the full lips that caused a stir
deep inside me every time I saw them. When she looked
up and saw me standing halfway between her and the
door, I could see the almond colored eyes that I'd
stared into until I was in a trance. Amber's face
started to take on a look of shock, then froze midway
when she saw what I was wearing. I think her brain was
having a panic attack while her eyes were saying,
"Yum."
She said, "Blossom." It was less of a statement and
more of a cover for "Oh shit."
"Hey baby," I said.
Amber slowly walked around the counter, and when she
did I nearly lost it. Down below the hemline of her
skirt, she wore two-inch sandals that showed off a
silver anklet and toe ring combo that I'd given her. It
was hard not to let anger show in my face.
She just stood there tight lipped. I realized she
didn't know if I was going to punch her or take out a
gun and start shooting or fall to my knees and beg for
her back. I stayed silent, letting Amber's mind play
through all the little scenarios of where this could
go. It was mean, but she was the cause of that little
sliver of my heart growing cold.
"What are…what do you want?"
I walked up to her, and as I did it was obvious she was
trying not to back away. "You owe me."
"Owe you?" She tried to sound annoyed, but there was a
nervous lilt to her voice that betrayed her guilt, and
her fear.
I nodded. "Uh huh. You remember our little fantasy?"
She smirked. "Which one?" Less fear in her voice now.
I held out my hands, indicating the store. Amber's
eyebrows raised and she started to look up. But then
she realized what I meant and looked back at me with a
mischievous grin and a wild look in her eyes. That
look. I hadn't realized I'd missed it until that
moment.
"Are you serious?" she asked.
To answer her question I opened the coat, revealing my
naked body underneath. Amber's eyes went wide and her
jaw fell open. She loved it when I let the
exhibitionist side of me go wild, and I threw in a gold
waist chain for good measure. One look told me I had
her right where I wanted her.
In three quick strides she covered the distance between
the two of us. One hand came to the back of my neck and
pulled my face to hers, our lips brought together in a
kiss fueled by momentary lust. Her other hand went to
my breast, rubbing the soft flesh and pinching between
her fingers the nipple already hard from the cool air.
Our tongues violently mashed together and I once again
relished in Amber's taste.
A year's worth of memories flooded back into my
conscious mind and I felt like I could get lost in any
one of them. The real reason I was here was suddenly
sacrificed to the desire to have her back.
I felt safe. I had someone to lean on again, someone
who would catch me when I fell, be there when I needed,
give when I lacked, help when I was helpless. You never
seem to realize what kind of support you gain when
you're in a committed, loving relationship.
Not until it's suddenly gone without your consent. The
numb feeling that comes over you when you suddenly
realize your safety net is gone. Back outside without a
jacket, the door closed and locked and you don't have a
key to get back in. Nothing but miles of empty
wasteland before you and you don't know which direction
to head in…suddenly I understood what my psychiatrist
was telling me about being too dependant on others.
But I wasn't the only one feeling safe. Amber panicked
when she first saw me, fearing the worst kind of
retribution. Now thinking my intention is fun, she's
relaxed and getting into it. This is the false sense of
security I wanted to create for her, because in order
for me to get away with this I needed her to feel safe
and secure. We broke the kiss and when I looked in
Amber's eyes I fell in love with her again.
"Did you know hummingbirds are the only type of birds
that can fly backwards?"
Amber had asked the question without looking away from
the magazine. We were in this hotel in Philadelphia, my
cousin was getting married and Amber and I went down a
night early. There was a small round table and chair in
front of a window offering a picturesque view of the
city, and the bedside radio was set to a local college
station that played techno music.
After taking a shower I walked out of the bathroom
naked, using the towel to try to get some water from my
ear. Amber was lying on the bed wearing only a baby
doll T-shirt. Her bare feet were crossed and her light
brown patch of pubic hair was on display. Both looked
inviting.
"Why would any bird want to?"
Amber shrugged. "To get out of a bad situation?"
I turned the chair so it faced the window and sat down.
"But they can't see backwards. They could fly back into
another bad situation."
"Like getting another bird's beak up it's butt."
I smiled. "Doesn't sound that bad to me."
Amber tossed the magazine aside, jumped off the bed and
sat in my lap. "Me neither." She wrapped her arms
around me and leaned down, we shared a passionate kiss
followed by some lip sucking and finally some cuddling.
She turned and we stared out the window at the
metropolis beyond.
Amber chuckled. "How many people you think are having
sex out there right now?"
"In the whole world?"
She shook her head. "Just where we can see."
"Ten, thirteen maybe."
"So few?"
I sighed. "It's why the world is such a fucked up
place."
Amber thought about that for a moment. Suddenly her
brow furrowed and she looked at me. "Hey, wait a
sec…you can't say thirteen. I asked you how many people
are having sex. Thirteen is an odd number."
"I figure someone out there is masturbating. Or if
they're really lucky, they're in the middle of a
threesome."
We laughed, and as we did our hands began rubbing each
other's bodies. Soon Amber's hands were caressing my
breasts and I had one hand up her shirt and another
between her legs. My fingers traced lightly along her
lower lips, creating moisture among her folds and
causing her to mew like a kitten.
Amber was wet enough for me to slip a finger inside of
her. After a minute I was able to add another, and that
caused her hips to buck. I never like using a dildo,
mostly because a plastic phallus never compares to the
feeling of real physical contact. Holding her against
my body, I could feel her press back when she shuddered
and my hand felt the muscles in her stomach move when I
hit a good spot.
Amber's arm stretched up behind my head where her hand
caressed my hair and pulled a little when she reacted
to my motions. The walls of her cunt squeezed against
my fingers in response to my explorations. It's not
enough for me to simply give pleasure; I get pleasure
from feeling the reactions to what I'm doing.
Our mouths met and quickly began to devour each other.
My other hand started sliding up and down over her
clit, causing her hips to buck again. Amber moaned and
that's when I started to use my fingertips on her clit,
teasing her for a few minutes by driving her to near
orgasm and then slowing down. Amber broke the kiss and
cried out.
Using my hands to elicit pleasure, being able to cause
her to react, making her feel more or less by varying
the speed, it all made me feel powerful, and I love the
feeling of power because that means I'm in control.
Being in control means everything, because that means
no one could take advantage of or embarrass me. It also
means I'm less likely to lose control of my emotions as
well.
I decided Amber had had enough and drove her to orgasm.
Her body tensed and her hips moved as her butt pressed
hard against my crotch. These actions were punctuated
by Amber's cries of ecstasy, each one boasting my
feeling of power. With a few final shakes she collapsed
limp against me, her breathing shallow and ragged.
"Good?" I asked.
"Uh," gasp, "huh."
We sat there for a few moments with the city in front
of us and the music playing in the background. Finally
Amber got up and pulled me to my feet, leading me over
to the bed where she fell down on top of the covers and
dragged me with her. We kissed for a while, our mouths
and lips and tongues working to build up our passion. I
got her shirt off and licked and sucked on her nipples.
Eventually she rewarded me by calling out my name in
the heat of the moment. Finally we flipped over and she
took control. Amber licked me from head to toe,
spending a few minutes on my toes, and then positioned
herself between my legs.
"Hand me the beads please."
There was a set of anal beads and a small tube of lube
on the bedside table. She must have planned on getting
into some fun. Amber lubed up the beads as I put a
pillow under my hips. Then she spread some lube on my
asshole, not so subtly slipping a finger inside and
causing me to gasp. Amber giggled at my reaction, and
then proceeded to slowly insert the beads in one at a
time. I felt a jolt of pleasure as each bead stretched
my hole, and when the last one was in she said, "Now
for the fun part."
Amber kept her eyes firmly locked on mine as she rubbed
her hands on the inside of my legs and licked my outer
lips to get me worked up. Finally she spread me apart
and ran her tongue up and down the sensitive skin,
licking, sucking and nibbling until I was on the brink
of orgasm. Grabbing the string with a small metal ring
at the end, Amber sucked on my clit and sent me over
the edge as she pulled the anal beads out of me one at
a time.
The sensations of her eating me out as each bead
stretched my anus were fantastic. And she timed it just
right too, milking my orgasm for almost as long as it
took to get the last bead out. I almost felt empty when
it was done, like the beads had become part of me and
now my body was missing them. Amber climbed onto me and
we kissed and cuddled for a while, one of those sweet
and tender moments that come after sex.
Eventually we started kissing some more and that led to
fondling, and fondling led to licking, and that led
Amber to turn around and get us into a sixty nine. I
could feel her tongue caress my clit as her fingers
held me open and played with my folds. My lips sucked
on hers, savoring the juice that tasted of her very
essence. Then I brought my hands up and over her torso,
running my fingers along the crack of her ass and
teasing the outer edge of her rosebud. Dipping into her
pussy in order to lubricate my digits, I moved them up
and slowly pressed one into her ass.
Amber elicited a moan of pleasure and slid a finger
into my pussy, followed by another and soon a third,
pumping them with building speed while licking and
sucking on my clit. Both of us had a rhythm going,
driving each other through wave after wave of
stimulation, and sending shocks of pleasure through
each other's bodies until we finally drove each other
to another set of glorious orgasms.
I lay there, unable to move, while Amber righted
herself and lay next to me. Her sweat felt cool against
my skin as she leaned in and kissed me, and I could
taste the mix of our juices as our tongues collided yet
again. After a few minutes we settled into each other's
arms. There was warm comfort in her embrace, a security
I never wanted to be without.
Suddenly, Amber said, "I love you."
I almost said, "What?" because I couldn't believe what
I'd heard. Luckily I stopped myself, since that could
have been taken the wrong way and a long period of
explaining and soothing doubts would have ensued.
Instead I looked at her and said what I really felt. "I
love you too." We hugged and kissed and cuddled and the
world was a wonderful place full of possibilities.
After Amber took a shower, and I took another one, we
got dressed and walked from our hotel to South Street.
There were bars and all kinds of places to check out.
By the time we ended up in the tattoo parlor we'd both
had quite a few drinks. I brought Amber to the flash
art board and showed her the tattoo I'd always wanted
to get – a naked devil woman complete with red skin,
horns and a tail, resting on her knees and looking back
with seduction in her eyes. Amber thought it was cool,
but we ended up going with her suggestion, which was
getting our names tattooed onto each other.
At first I thought it was a bad idea, since most people
ended up regretting such decisions, but then I also
remembered thinking how my father would have called it
"ghetto" to do such a thing. His contempt for others
based on social class always pissed me off, which is
probably why I still have a tattoo of Amber's name over
a heart just below my belly button. She got a similar
design with my name in the same place, and then we went
to a bar to celebrate. Every round was considered
"post-surgical anesthetic", and since we self-
prescribed our needs there were many rounds to be had
before leaving.
On the way back to the hotel we passed a theater where
the show had ended and the audience was socializing
outside. They looked like an uptight bunch, mostly
dressed in suits and expensive gowns. After we turned
the corner, Amber looked at me with the aforementioned
wild look in her eyes.
"I dare you," she said, sounding out of breath with the
excitement of her idea, "to streak those people!"
I stared at her, the automatic response of protest
caught somewhere in my throat. I would love to blame it
on the booze, but alcohol held no cause or reason in
what I did. The truth is, looking into those eyes, the
eyes of the girl I loved most in this world, and seeing
her child-like expression of excitement, I knew I
couldn't say no. To let her down would cause an
emotional hurt in the deepest core of my being.
I could never refuse her. If she asked me to rob a bank
or beat the shit out of a biker chick twice my size I'd
have done my best to make her happy. To say you don't
understand this is to earn my pity, because in my
opinion you're someone who has never experienced love
in it's truest form.
I was excited to do it, yet as I began to take my
clothes off I started to feel strange. At first I
couldn't put my finger on it, like trying to recall the
name of someone you recognized but couldn't place. But
when I saw Amber watching me with a glint in her eye it
hit me – this is the first bit of exhibitionism I'd
done since Heather got me to strip and masturbate. For
a moment I almost stopped because it scared me.
Here I was once again taking my clothes off and
performing an act in order to gain someone else's
approval and also for their amusement. Was I setting
myself up again? No, that couldn't be the case this
time, since Heather had played me from the beginning,
using the promise of a relationship to trick me into
getting something for her, while Amber is my girlfriend
already, and I know the only thing she's looking to do
is satisfy her own wacky sensibilities. That's fine by
me.
Once I finished stripping a bolt of excitement coursed
through my body. I was naked, outside, in the middle of
a city. Feeling the cool air on every inch of my skin
sparked something primal in me, and suddenly I wanted
to be nude outside all the time.
"Go for it!" Amber yelled, and our combined excitement
sent me sprinting around the corner. Despite bare feet
masking my approach, some of the theatergoers spotted
me before I reached them and I heard a combination of
gasps and laughs. I bumped into a few bodies as I ran
through, and even felt one hand grab at me. Before I
knew it I was past them and coming up on the corner.
The plan was for Amber to circle around the block and
meet me with my clothes. That was the plan, but not
what happened.
As I rounded the building I slammed into someone, a
person way too heavy to be Amber. It was a cop. His
partner was standing next to him, and both of them
stared at me for a moment.
"Well this ought to be quick," the female partner said.
"We don't have to search her."
As I felt the cuffs snap around my wrists, I looked up
the street and saw Amber's head peek around the corner.
I wasn't sure, but for a moment I thought she was
smiling. Later, after she bailed me out of jail, Amber
said she had seen the cops before I came but didn't
think there was anything she could do. I told her
claiming that someone had just stolen her dog and ran
"that way" would have been a good way to distract them.
The "oh yeah" that came after my suggestion didn't help
much.
The cops pulled me away and walked me back past the
theater crowd. They clapped and hooted and whistled at
my arrest. Someone yelled, "That's what you get!" Once
again I was publicly humiliated.
The changing rooms in Va Vem were six large cubes with
heavy curtains for doors and wide wooden benches for
sitting. There were handrails on each wall, put there
after a lawsuit that demanded handicapped assistance,
and a narrow mirror that only worked for people size
two or below. Of course the handrails weren't the big,
round aluminum ones you usually see, a trendy store
wouldn't do that. These were thin ornate metal ones
painted black, not very good for someone having to lean
all their body weight against their hand. Can't let
convenience get in the way of style.
"You're boss not here today?" I asked as the memory of
Philadelphia pushed my feelings about Amber back into
the hate column.
"You forget so quickly," she said. "I've told you she's
never in before noon. Party girl, remember?"
I smiled. "So it's just you and me, all alone." My hand
fingered cold metal in my pocket again, and the feeling
of power returned.
Amber grabbed me by the coat and dragged me into one of
the rooms. Pulling me close, she engaged a quick kiss
and said, "If a customer comes in, they can take what
they want."
She yanked my coat off and tossed it onto the bench. It
landed with a thud, the sound of something heavy
striking the wood bench, certainly not what you'd
expect from a piece of cloth. Amber stopped and looked
at it, turning back to me with a curious look on her
face. "What the hell are you carrying in there?"
I smiled and tried to play it off. "Now who forgets so
quickly? That little metal Buddha I got from my
grandfather. Never go anywhere without it, remember?"
But I really did leave without it, and I started to
wonder if that meant bad luck.
The curious look went away. "Never going to change, are
you?"
"There's comfort in old habits," I said. It almost
sounded sinister, even though I didn't intend for it
to, but Amber just smiled and pulled me in for another
kiss. She started unbuttoning her blouse from the top
down and I started helping her from the bottom up.
Underneath she wore a lacy peach bra that I normally
would have taken a moment to admire, but the passion of
the moment took away any meaning for it beyond
something in my way and I discarded it quickly. I did
take a moment to admire Amber's breasts, two beautiful
melon shaped globes with small brown areolas.
My body leaned forward, almost bowing to their
presence, as my tongue traced along where the brown met
white skin. Amber let out a breath, her hand going to
the side of my head, caressing me as my tongue caressed
her. Fingertips ran along the outside of my ear as my
tongue zeroed in on her nipple, flicking the stiff skin
until she begged me to suck on it. I granted her wish,
and as I did Amber's hand moved down to my own breast,
caressing and squeezing, pinching and rolling, working
her magic that I have longed for these past months.
We traded positions, allowing Amber's mouth to feast on
my breast while I caressed her tit. Giving each other
mutual pleasure was what we always did best. It was
something I'd learned from another ex, who told me that
the best sex is always shared. Amber easily picked up
the philosophy, probably because sharing herself was
never a problem.
She finished both my tits and came back to my face for
more kissing. While we did that Amber took off her
skirt and tossed it. Underneath she wore a pair of V-
string panties, and I slid my hands around to her naked
butt and started caressing it. She moaned in my mouth
and I swear I felt the heat from her passion flowing
into me.
Finally I pushed Amber away and pulled her into a
sitting position on the bench. Keeping close to my
jacket was important. I got to my knees, pulled off her
panties, and received a surprise from my ex-girlfriend.
There was a different tattoo where my name had once
been; it was now a large green unicorn. Amber must have
realized why I stopped. "I guess you didn't get yours
covered over."
"No," I said, "It's still there."
Anger started welling up in the pit of my stomach, but
I stopped it from getting out of control. Things were
going so well with my plan, I didn't want to screw it
up now. I avoided saying anything else, just spread her
legs gently and returned to her. My nostrils picked up
on her musky scent like a favorite memory from
childhood while my tongue found moisture in her folds
and soaked in it. I licked the delicate skin and
savored in the ability to make her purr.
Centering on her clit, my tongue flicked and caressed
and made Amber respond in grunts and gasps. I dragged a
finger through her lips, giving her other sensations to
enjoy while I did this. Finally I brought my finger to
Amber's entrance and slowly slid it inside of her. A
long moan came from her mouth. I let the finger sit for
a moment, occasionally wiggling it to tease her about
what was coming next. When I was sure she was ready for
it I started pumping, slowly gliding in and out of her
until I built up a steady pace.
Amber's hands were on my head, her fingers weaving
through my hair as they caressed my scalp. I felt like
they were urging me on, almost like a cheering section,
pushing me towards giving her a climax. I upped my
speed and made it happen, her body going rigid as she
gripped my hair and cried out loud, then slowly
releasing her grip on me as she went limp and leaned
back. Her breathing was heavy but slowing as she said,
"That was great."
But I wasn't done yet. I pulled my finger out as my
tongue licked all over her pussy, bathing in her juice
and keeping myself worked up. When I heard her start to
moan again I knew she was ready, and before she could
say anything I slid my tongue inside her. Amber let out
a sharp cry, indicating I'd succeeded in surprising
her. The warm embrace of her pussy on my tongue was
heaven, and I would have loved to keep it there, but I
needed to keep Amber happy too and so I started working
it in and out, fucking her.
"Oh my, this is, is…oh," was the most she could say
during this time. I kept it up for a while, at least
until my mouth started getting sore from staying open
for so long. Finally I pulled out my tongue and
replaced it with two fingers, giving my mouth a break.
As I did this, I positioned my other hand under her
pussy, sliding the fingers along her butt crack.
Amber said, "Yes," indicating that she knew where I was
going. I teased her rosebud with my index finger,
getting it ready for an invasion. Amber cried out and I
knew she was about to cum, so just as she did I pressed
my finger into her ass. That caused her to buck wildly
and my hands had to move with her.
I could see the sweat glisten on her forehead, and
Amber seemed so much more passionate and wild than when
we'd had sex before. At first I thought maybe she'd
learned something new since we parted ways, or maybe
the girl I hear she's shacking up with is someone who
can really bring out the beast in her. But then I
realized this is just the two of us having sex, like it
was before. Deep down I'd always blamed myself for not
keeping her happy, but maybe it's not who Amber's with
that does it for her. Maybe it's what she shouldn't be
doing that turns her on.
"My, my, aren't you a hottie."
Those were the first words Amber said upon being
introduced to me. Normally I wouldn't have a problem
with that kind of reaction, but since she was sitting
next to her girlfriend at the time it made things
slightly uncomfortable.
We were at a party, given by my friend Kaye at the
apartment she shared with her girlfriend Maggie. To
know the two of them you would never think that they
could work as a couple. Kaye has always reminded me of
Katherine Hepburn, carrying a social elegance and grace
matched with a fiercely independent attitude and a
mouth that will tell you where you can stick it. She
has curly, shoulder length brown hair and looks as good
in jeans and a T-shirt as she does in a dress, one of
those people that clothes always seem to hang off of
just right.
Maggie is just the opposite. With her jet-black hair,
piercings, tattoos and seemingly endless wardrobe of
punk rock shirts, black jeans and combat boots, she has
hard case written all over her. But most of the time
she's pretty quiet and subdued, and the few times we've
had the chance to talk I got the impression she has a
good head on her shoulders. I also found out there's
more to her than meets the eye.
Despite her appearance I was surprised to learn she's a
chemical engineer and also earns some extra money
playing violin in a four string quartet. What's really
important about her is that in the eight months that
they've been together, I've never seen Kaye so happy.
When I arrived at the apartment I noticed three women
I'd never seen before. The first was an absolute
knockout with long blonde hair and the most luscious
lips I'd ever seen. Maggie introduced her as Michelle,
a friend from college that was staying with them for a
while. Kaye had told me over the phone that she'd had
her first threesome the other night with Maggie and
Michelle. I was very jealous, but apparently I wasn't
the only one because the whole night Kaye was giving
Michelle a very cold attitude. Suddenly I realized that
she could be worried about losing Maggie to such a
beauty.
The other two new faces were sitting on the couch.
Mandy was a soft butch in her early thirties with dark
hair cut pageboy style and a pair of eyes that were
made for the description "shifty". The other woman I've
already described, because her name was Amber. I
assumed they were a couple because Mandy had one arm
around Amber's shoulder and a hand on her leg. Amber
didn't seem to mind. I noticed how Mandy seemed to keep
physical contact with Amber no matter how she moved.
When Amber leaned forward to hear my friend Samantha
talk, Mandy moved the arm behind her to keep a hand on
Amber's back. When Amber sat back, Mandy put her arm
around Amber like she was claiming territory.
A little while later I ran into Kaye in the kitchen.
"Where do you know Mandy and Amber from?"
"You know those college Alumni meetings I go to?"
I smiled. "Kaye, those aren't Alumni meetings, they're
excuses to go to a bar."
Kaye shrugged. "I met Amber at one. She graduated two
years ago, moved here and wanted to meet new people."
"You notice anything funny about Mandy?"
"Other than the fact that she can't keep her hands to
herself?" Kaye scrunched up her shoulders and made a
face. "Ugh, creepy. I can't stand clingy women."
"This coming from a someone who talks about her
girlfriend like she's better than chocolate."
"Maggie is certainly not better than chocolate." Kaye
said. Then she was quiet, and I waited for it. Her face
betrayed the effort of trying to prevent her mouth from
saying anything else. It didn't last long. "She's as
good as chocolate, because nothing is better than
chocolate."
I laughed, but noticed Kaye looked like she was holding
back tears. I put an arm around her. "Is it Michelle?"
"Mostly," she said.
"Do you want to talk?"
Kaye shook her head. "No."
"Do you want to help me drop a couch on Michelle?"
Kaye laughed. "No."
"Want to get blind drunk and moon people?"
Kaye hesitated. "Probably, but later."
I gave Kaye a hug and then helped her burn hors
d'oeuvres. As I brought them around to people I ran
into Maggie and mentioned what Kaye had said about her
and chocolate, hoping that might help if she was having
any thoughts of straying. Even though I didn't know
Maggie that well, I didn't want to think she was
capable of it
Soon the party was going full swing. There was plenty
of drinking, a little drug abuse, and a bathroom that
served as a revolving door for encounters. Some of
those encounters were between people who had never met
before, others were between people in a relationship,
and a few were a dangerous mix of the two. It made
waiting to pee a little exciting.
I was doing just that when the door opened and a lone
guy came out. No excitement there. I went in and had
the door almost shut when a hand stopped it. Before I
had a chance to say anything Amber slipped in. She
turned to me with a pack of cigarettes in her hand.
"You mind?" she said with a twinge of hurt puppy in her
voice. "I'm really jonesing and Mandy will go nuts if
she sees me having one."
I smiled. "No problem." Amber smiling back at me was
like finding out everything was right with the world. I
pointed at the toilet. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Nothing I don't do everyday."
I pulled down my panties and did my business. At one
point I looked up and noticed Amber staring at me like
she was contemplating something. Then again maybe she
was just staring into space and mentally making her
grocery list. When she gave a slight smile I knew it
was the former. Amber blew smoke out of her nostrils
and I suddenly felt very self-conscious. She smiled and
said, "Tell me something interesting about yourself."
I thought about it and then shrugged. "I collect
hunting knives."
"You don't look like the hunting type."
"That's because I don't."
A wry smile crossed her face, like she was enjoying
this. "Then why do you collect them?"
"It's the feeling they give me."
When I got up and flushed Amber walked over to me. "I'm
sorry," she said while holding up her pack of
cigarettes, "I didn't offer you one."
"Thanks." I pulled one from the pack and stuck it in my
mouth, but before I could get out my lighter Amber
struck a match and held it up. Our eyes locked as I put
my face forward, the match setting fire to the
cigarette between us. When I pulled back Amber kept the
match held up, letting it burn down until it was just
on top of her fingertips. With a second to spare she
blew it out.
I let out some smoke and our eyes found each other
again through the haze. Suddenly Amber took a step
towards me, closing the space between us to a few
inches. The power of her intention was almost
palatable. Maybe it was the booze, or the fact that I
couldn't stand Mandy's clingy nature, or the fact that
I'd been catching glances from Amber all night, but I
didn't stop her.
We stood there staring at each other. Soon tension
became anticipation. Finally I couldn't take it anymore
and said, "So…"
Suddenly Amber shoved her face into mine and we were
kissing passionately. I'd been single for a while,
quite a while actually, and had almost forgotten how
good kissing feels. It all came back – the softness,
the wetness, and the odor of saliva on skin. My hands
moved up her stomach and settled on her breasts, and I
could feel her nipples through the fabric of her
blouse. Just as I gave a gentle squeeze someone pounded
on the bathroom door. Amber jumped back. We could hear
laughter and the voices of people we didn't know, but
the moment was lost. Amber smiled and I opened the door
and we walked out.
The next morning I felt like shit, and that had nothing
to do with a hangover. It wasn't that I didn't like the
kiss; in fact, I loved the kiss. Thinking about it made
me warm and fuzzy and excited in all the right places.
What made me feel like shit about it was the fact that
I let it happen. No, I wanted it to happen. Amber was a
taken girl, very taken by Marcy's standards, and I had
never thought of myself as the kind of girl that kisses
another girl's girl, especially when the girl's other
girl is in the same building. I think I just confused
myself.
I wasn't sure why I did what I did. Part of it I blamed
on the long stretch since my last sexual encounter, and
the even longer one since my last girlfriend. I also
blamed it on Amber's allure, something about her was
just intoxicating. A combination of her look and the
way she carried herself that made the air around her
seem like it could combust at any moment. I wanted to
put some of it on Marcy for being so annoying, but I
knew that shouldn't matter. I also wanted to give Amber
some credit for initiating the kiss, but I knew that
shouldn't matter either.
In my book other people are going to do what they're
going to do because that's their choice. What I do is
my choice, because I only have control over me. I
didn't break the kiss or push Amber away, telling her I
was flattered but what we were doing wasn't right. Deep
down I knew I didn't want to do any of that. Even
worse, right now I wanted to kiss her again.
What I needed was someone to talk to, a friend from
whom I could get advice and support. Unfortunately I
couldn't call any of them. Sure, there are a few who
could have related to my situation because they would
have done the same thing, but sans the guilt, which is
exactly what I didn't want to hear. And as much as I
wanted Kaye's thoughtful, intelligent advice, I knew
that right now wasn't the time. There was this sinking
feeling in my gut that she was going through something
similar, except she was on the Mandy side of the
equation. Any advice would be tainted with her personal
problem, not to mention the fact that I'd get read the
riot act for being a Michelle.
So I decided to handle it myself, and myself decided to
let it go. I would lift all the guilt of my actions,
and inactions, off of my shoulders. I allowed two last
minutes to feel bad about the situation, and then just
forgave myself and moved on. But the get-out-of-jail-
free card came with a price, and that price was letting
go of my desires to be with Amber again. I couldn't
think about her, try to contact her, or masturbate
about her. If we ran into each other again I would be
polite, sociable, and completely immune to her charms.
No more lip locking, saliva swapping or melon picking.
I was Amber-free and Amber-proof.
This all worked wonderfully. Right up to the next
moment I saw her.
That moment was a few days later at The Litter Box.
Amber showed up solo, and she squeezed between my
friend Margaret and I even though there was a free seat
across the table. We started talking, and everyone and
everything else just melted away. Not far into
conversation she dropped the fact that she and Mandy
were having relationship trouble.
A few minutes later she laughed and clapped at
something I said, and as she put her hands down one of
them rested on my leg. At that moment someone could
have started shooting in the club and I wouldn't have
noticed or cared. I was too busy starting up the
internal war between what I wanted and who I wanted to
be. This was an opportunity to be one or the other, but
I didn't know which way to go.
My eyes happened to be looking at the door when I
noticed Kaye walking in. I started to wave, but when I
saw the look on her face I excused myself from Amber.
Kaye didn't walk towards the table; instead she went
straight to the bar and ordered three shots of vodka.
"You okay?" I asked as I walked up.
She downed the first shot. "No."
"Want to talk about it?"
She downed the second shot. "No."
"Planning on killing Michelle?"
Kaye had been lifting the third shot to her lips as I
asked. She hesitated for a moment, the rim of the shot
glass just barely an inch from her mouth, the heat from
her breath fogging up the side of the glass.
"No," she said, and then downed the shot.
"Good," I said. "From now on I'm just going to hand you
a questionnaire. It'll save me some time."
Kaye turned and leaned against the bar. "Tell me
something. Do you think that there's a person out
there, someone you'd be willing to…to throw everything
away for? Someone you'd be willing to risk everything
that's important to you?"
I could tell the alcohol was having an effect on her.
But Kaye's questions also made me think. Looking over
at the table, my eyes focused on Amber. I stared at her
for a few moments before I answered.
"Yes," I said. No question about it now I realized, no
doubts or second thoughts or guilt. And fuck Mandy and
whatever sob story comes later. I was going for it.
When I turned back to Kaye she was already gone, just
disappeared without me noticing, and little did I know
that it was the last I would see of her for a long
time. A few days later I found out she just up and
moved away to another city, and when I spoke to her on
the phone she said something about wanting to find more
challenging work. Kaye teaches sixth graders, how much
more challenging could that be?
At the time I didn't know where she had gone, and I was
worried about how she was behaving, so I started back
towards the table to see if she was there and suddenly
realized I had problems of my own. Amber was talking to
Julie, an ex of mine who has a big mouth, a small
heart, and inhibitions that are nowhere to be found.
Before I knew what she was like, I made the mistake of
telling Julie about my Slasher Movie history in high
school. Amber was getting an earful about me, and more
than likely she wouldn't be interested by the time
Julie was done talking. There went everything.
I stood there frozen, the rage building up inside of
me. I was angry with Julie, but even angrier with yours
truly for not jumping in when the opportunity presented
itself. Now it was lost forever.
"Blossom, you okay?" Margaret asked when she noticed me
standing there. Suddenly everyone from the table,
including Julie and Amber, were staring at me. I ran.
Amber had me bent over and legs spread, her fingers
pistoning in and out of my pussy while her tongue
rimmed my asshole. The bench I was kneeling on was made
of long pieces of wood with spaces in-between, which
made it very uncomfortable. But I could see the two of
us in the mirror on the opposite wall, and it turned me
on so much to see us having sex that the uncomfortable
pain was bearable.
Pulling her fingers out of my pussy, Amber moved them
to my clit and started playing with it as her tongue
pressed into my anus. I pinched my nipples as the
velvet of her tongue moved inside of me, going in and
out and around my sensitive rosebud, and when she
increased the speed of her fingers on my clit it all
drove me to one of the best orgasms I could ever
remember.
After a few moments of repositioning, we lay together
on the bench, breathing heavily as we were coming down,
Amber leaning against me, my jacket just inches away
from our heads. I started to reach towards it when
Amber asked, "So, how are your folks?"
The simple pleasantry of the question after such an
intimate act caused me to burst out laughing. Amber
laughed too, and I realized she'd done it to lighten
the situation, trying to keep us from talking about
more unpleasant things. "They're good. Driving each
other crazy as usual."
"Yeah, but they're happy around each other. Always
wanted to know how they did that."
Her words struck a memory in me. "You know, you never
talked about your parents. Every time I tried to bring
them up you'd change the subject or get pissed off at
me. Why was that?"
Amber sighed. I looked over and noticed that her eyes
were closed and a hand was at her forehead. "Do we need
to talk about this now?"
I shrugged. "As good a time as any."
She opened her eyes and looked at me. "I had a teacher
once tell me that fathers are important. Always thought
that was funny he never thought mothers were important
too. All I had was my dad. Mom ran out somewhere early
on, I never got the whole story on that one."
"Your dad never re-married?"
"I'm not sure he was married to my mom in the first
place. Probably her luck, he wasn't really the marriage
type." She snorted. "Not the relationship type either.
He had a problem breaking up with women."
"He didn't want to hurt them."
Amber chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Yeah. So he
devised this system, I guess. He'd start seeing the
next one before he broke up with the last one." She
looked at me. "That usually sent the message. Guy was a
bastard."
I stared at Amber, completely at a loss for words.
Apparently no one ever taught her irony.
"I thought you had a gyno appointment!"
Amber blurted out the statement as she pulled the
covers over her naked body. It wasn't a completely
ironic action. Even though I'd seen her without clothes
plenty in the past year and a half of our relationship,
for the first time I was seeing her really naked.
The blonde Amber was laying on top of before I walked
into the room leaned up on her elbows. "Well ain't this
a bitch," she said. Amber must have met her at the gym.
The muscles in her arms and torso spoke of hours of
weightlifting and if the deep voice wasn't natural it
was definitely a result of steroid use.
"It got cancelled," I said, then turned and stormed
out. Amber didn't even try to chase me. When I came
back to the apartment later she had taken all her
stuff. Not even a note to try and explain.
I spent the next four months in a rut. Go to work, come
home, watch TV, read, go to sleep. Wake up and repeat.
There were two one-night stands somewhere in there, but
neither one felt worthy of pursuing. They say time
heals all wounds, but mine just seemed to keep getting
worse. I was in love with Amber, and that love deepened
the more time we spent together and the more memories
we created. Those feelings weren't going away
overnight, and added with the sting of betrayal, it was
tearing my insides apart. The more time went on the
worse I felt.
This all led up to last night when I went out with my
friend Mitch, who told me a night out would make things
better. He brought me to a place called Snips to see a
few bands play. It was the kind of dive every local
band plays - two small rooms, one with a bar and the
other with a small stage that barely fit the drum kit,
basically a place for people to take up space for a
cover charge.
Mitch spent most of his nights there while his days
were filled with one part time job at a supermarket and
another part time job running numbers for a local
bookie. While Mitch is no brain surgeon, he's exactly
the type of person you want to be with when you're just
looking for mindless entertainment.
The band on the stage was called Carcass Crowd Surfers,
and they were the worst band I'd ever heard in my life.
They played heavy metal, which I'm not a fan of in the
first place, but these guys somehow managed to make it
worse. Their sound was somewhere between shredding an
iron with a hand grater and stepping on the tail of a
goat. I stepped up the pace of my drinking just to
outrun the headache that was building from my ears
inward.
At one point Mitch asked me, "So how's the post-Amber
recovery going?"
"I woke up today and thought about killing myself
before breakfast."
Mitch stared at me. "So why didn't you?"
"My cat."
He smiled. "Didn't want her to lose her mommy?"
"I didn't want her to take a shit on my face
afterwards. Not the way I want to be remembered."
"Huh, at least it's a way to be remembered." Mitch
leaned over to me. "You know what," he said breathing
whisky fumes towards my face. "I'm going to open a
place like this, but I'm going to call it The Shit
Hole. Might as well call something what it is."
When I got home I realized I'd had a horrible time and
decided to finish the night on some kind of up note.
Looking for something to help pleasure myself, I went
to the drawer where I keep all my sex toys. There were
vibrators, clit stimulators, a pair of handcuffs, a set
of vaginal beads, a set of anal beads, a tube of lube,
nude pictures of ex-girlfriends, and, sitting at the
bottom of all this, a hunting knife.
I shut the drawer quickly and sat on the bed. How the
hell had the knife gotten in there? Did I put it there?
I must have, because it wasn't there last week. At
least I don't think it was there last week. I tried to
remember the last time I had my knives out. Two days
ago, I was sharpening them.
Later that night I went through a fit of anger about
Amber, realized I'd been off my pills the whole day.
Anger flooded back into my brain as all the thoughts
I'd had during the fit came back, all the pain and
embarrassment and heartache. Then I remembered the
letter I'd received the other day, and suddenly I knew
leaving the knife in there was no accident. It was
meant to remind me of something.
I got up and walked over to the drawer, opened it, and
said, "You're just what I need."
Lying on the bench, I held Amber close to me. My eyes
settled on her neck and I could see it move with her
heartbeat. I could feel my own heart beating heavily in
my chest and imagined they were beating in sync. I used
to think we were one like that. We were a permanent,
constant part of nature and nothing could break us up.
We simply existed together, unable to exist apart.
Without looking at me, Amber sighed and said, "I miss
this."
It was like a switch was flipped. Suddenly every scrap
of anger inside of me coalesced and brought back the
monster. She missed this? Missed it! She's the one who
fucked it up! And the way she said it…like we had some
amicable parting of the ways! Hell, even if we argued
our way into a breakup. She fucked someone else!
I needed to hurt her. She had to feel my pain, the
searing, hateful pain that had torn my heart into
pieces and left me feeling like a hollow version of
what I once was. Suddenly I remembered how dangerous
the world felt again once she'd left, how alone I felt.
When you're with someone you've grown as a person, and
when they break up with you suddenly all that growth is
whisked away. It's like getting a third arm and then
having it cut off. Okay, these examples are getting a
little disgusting, back to the revenge.
I reached toward my jacket and slipped my hand in the
pocket. There was the feel of metal again.
"What are you doing?" Amber asked.
I stopped and looked at her. "Grabbing a smoke."
"I thought you quit?"
"One of the casualties of your betrayal."
A look of regret crossed her face, and for a moment I
thought she might apologize. But then she looked away
and muttered, "Don't blame me 'cause you have no
control." Amber stretched her body, with her arms over
her head, making herself completely vulnerable. I
realized this was my moment to strike.
"I left my favorite clit stimulator at your place."
Amber's voice came over my answering machine sounding
like she was ordering a pizza. Of course this was four
months after I found her cheating on me, so she had
probably gotten over the embarrassment. But for me it
wouldn't stop playing over and over in my head. Not to
mention the fact that my heart was shattered. Just
hearing her voice sent me into a fit.
I took my mail into the bedroom and started to go
through it, crying uncontrollably and looking for
something to distract me from my despair. There were
bills, junk mail, an offer to fly to Hawaii if I was
willing to hear a pitch about a time-share, and one
small envelope addressed by hand and written in green
ink. The name on the return address was H. Pollard. At
first the name didn't mean anything. Then it came to me
– the girl I'd stabbed in high school.
Inside was a four-page letter. Heather started out
explaining that she spent many years angry with me for
what I did, and even considered suing me at one point.
I almost stopped there, but curiosity grabbed hold of
my senses and pushed me to keep reading. Heather went
on to describe how she dropped out of college after
getting pregnant. Even though it's been hard raising a
child single-handedly, she said she never regrets the
decision.
Her son Chris recently started sixth grade and
developed a crush on a girl. He wrote a love letter and
sneaked it into her bag, but when she found it the girl
made fun of him in front of her friends. By the next
day almost everyone at school had seen or heard about
the letter and Chris was picked on mercilessly. The
poor kid went home crying, devastated to the point
where he doesn't even want to go back to school.
While Heather always realized she wasn't innocent in
our situation, she thought I had overreacted when I
stabbed her. All that changed when she felt such a
blinding anger towards the girl who caused Chris so
much pain that she considered calling the girl's
mother. That's when she remembered the phone call my
mother placed to her mother after the video became
public. As Heather comforted her son, she felt an
overwhelming sense of guilt because once she had been
that girl. And she realized what she'd done to me was
ten times worse than showing people a love letter.
Now she completely understands how angry I was when I
stabbed her, and even though it was fourteen years too
late she wanted to express how sorry she was for what
she did. While there is nothing she can do to change
what happened, she hoped I would accept her apology.
She ended the letter asking if I would write her back
to tell her how I felt and how my life was going.
What goes around comes around. Just like my mother had
said.
"Wait! Don't go! You can't leave me like this!"
Amber yelled those words as I pushed back the curtain
at VaVem and put my jacket on. She pulled against the
handcuff that was secured around her wrist, and then
tried to pull at the other one secured to the handrail.
Neither one would budge. And while the handrail wasn't
the best choice for what it was made for, it was made
very well, so that someone much stronger than Amber
couldn't just pull it out of the wall. I grabbed her
clothes and started walking away.
"Blossom please! I'll get fired!"
When I got to the checkout area I tossed Amber's stuff
on the floor. Then I took the key to the handcuffs and
put it on the counter, turned and started for the door.
I thought of Amber's boss coming in, finding her in
there, unlocking the handcuffs and firing her.
"You fucking bitch! I never really loved you!"
That stopped me cold, and suddenly another thought ran
through my head. Amber's boss calling the police to get
her out of the cuffs. They don't have the tools, so
they have to call the fire department. One thing I've
learned is that if you're going to embarrass someone,
make sure there's enough of an audience. I went back to
the counter and grabbed the key.
There was a bar down the street with a window view of
Va Vem. I went in and ordered a double Long Island Iced
Tea, took up a window seat and passed the time by
trying to decide if I should write Heather back. Yes,
she did something horrible to me, but she also learned
about being on the other side of it too. I thought
about how it just takes a little time for things to
work out.
And sometimes it doesn't take long at all, like when I
caught sight of Amber's boss walking into Va Vem. It
only took fifteen minutes for the police to get there,
and just another ten for the fire truck to arrive. They
probably ran over people after hearing the call was to
cut a naked woman out of some handcuffs.
I decided to make my getaway after that, since Amber
might come up with some halfway believable story to
explain what happened. Probably not, remembering how
badly she failed to come up with an excuse for the cops
in Philly. Maybe she'd get fired and maybe not, but
that didn't matter because what I'd wanted to do was
finished. And at that moment I decided to write Heather
back and offer her my forgiveness, because you can't
hold on to hate forever.
I walked out of the bar headed for a new destination, a
tattoo shop where I planned to have Amber's name
covered over with that devil woman I wanted. Time to
start fresh.
THE END
Please send feedback to roguewriter@hotmail.com
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 41