Each and Other

Each and Other

Sitting in an unattractive position really, from a male point of view that is, I observed across the wooden floor the tip of my shadow toe touching the tip of his shadow elbow. If shadow kicks could hurt. I regretted not having done the real thing. I should have, right when he walked in at that door and flung his jacket down on the floor.

Ha! How dare he"¦what an audacious theatrical gesture. I can throw things too. Anyway I didn't know what it was about, until in true male fashion he shouted at me (yes more theatrics):

Where were you tonight?

To which of course I replied, in hell (I'm not losing in a melodrama game)

How terribly vain of him to come in like that and shout at me without Me even Knowing we were in a fight! Amusing really, what these males do.

More sullenly he said. I saw you with that boy.

Aha! So that's what's eating gilbert grape!

Yes"¦so?

We were still standing in the middle of the room

He's just a boy for fuck's sake.

I was talking about Martin Scorsese with him really, don't you think you're over reacting.

His Hand was In Your Lap and his Tounge was down your Throat.
(he exploded)

Yes"¦It was I know"¦ But that was before I got up and dealt him one in the ear please don't tell me you stormed out of there before you saw it.

And without waiting for his response

How typical I told him.

Don't lie bitch. I don't know what you're problem is, what I'm not enough for you? This isn't the first time ok? I've seen it happening before ok? Like at the, the"¦downstairs, yesterday you let him touch your ass. Or I mean why just That, So many other times Too. The other day he was tickling you, like what the hell, apart from that being the gayest thing.

Just shut up.
Yeah sure I'll shut up and then you'll run into bed with him behind my back. Does that excite you? Have you sucked his cock, so that's why you won't suck mine? He was waving his hands in my face and his fingers were so pretty.

I looked at him, not believing any of it. Five minutes ago everything was normal. How fast the situation has gotten out of hand, blown up to extremities.

Where else has he touched you. Here?

And he grabbed my breast roughly.

Stop it Stop it you're hurting me you asshole I shouted back at him tearing my blouse in the process. You're a beast. Go to hell

Suddenly he looked ashamed of himself. Still he shouted at me more First thing in the morning I'm outta here bitch.

Get Lost Go Now

And I didn't wait for him to say no and walkedran into the bathroom. I saw his toothbrush and flung it in the bin. Yuck. His toothbrush, that went in his mouth. His dirty filthy mouth that I'd kissed so many times until my own was swollen with love.

I must admit I cried stupidly. They have that effect on us, males. I never meant it but my father and He, the only ones who ever made me cry. But more than anything the thought that bothered me most was, my Blouse!

Shedding whatever was left of it and dropping my pants to the floor I stepped out of them, two holes for the legs where they pooled around my ankles. And got into the shower not caring that my hair was getting wet.

When I replayed the scene in my head I remembered. Cool air on my breast. Where he tore it. And I hadn't been wearing a bra. My eyes went wide in the shower, like a character out of a teen film. He saw my breast. I looked down at them now, and noticed the nipples were hard. And then I closed my eyes, I remember I closed my eyes because I did it on purpose (because I wanted to appear annoyed to myself, and not at all pleased about it, but of course I was only appearing annoyed to myself) and said slowly, oh"¦my"¦god. Very theatrically. And all throughout soaping myself I didn't touch my breasts. On purpose.

Was it an unconscious decision? That I pulled on one of his T shirts after my shower? No it wasn't. Neither did I unconsciously not wear anything under it. I wanted that. To try it out. What I'd read in erotica and fanfiction. To seduce. Oh this is all too gay.

I kept thinking to myself

I felt like a pornstar, zooming out of my body, watching myself from a corner of the room, I looked like a pornstar walking towards him where he was lying down on a beanbag and wanting to run away, but now it was too late, he'd laugh at me, and anything was better than him laughing at me. I stood next to him. And he looked up at me. And I looked down at him. And then he looked back down and stared in the general area of my ankles for the longest time.

My ears were turning hot.

That's My T Shirt.

Yes. You can have it back tomorrow.

No. Now

I rolled my eyes. Whatever

And walked away. Literally trembling at this stunt. Thank god he didn't see anything. What was I thinking. I was not. Nothing. But I was, but not too well. Shit shit shit shit shit.

I hate him. He didn't even react.

I hate him.

Am I ugly?
Reader, you tell me, am I ugly?

He ignored me. He turned me down. He didn't even look, or want to look.

What would my mother think.

If she ever knew.

What was happening in her own house in her absence.

Screw that and put on some underpants. Old ugly underpants. Anything to make me feel non sexual, non shameless and non slut.

I will sleep.

But I didn't sleep. I've spent the last three hours of my night. Up till this hour, now, thinking about all the times my ears went hot and my heart started beating faster and my insides boiled and chilled at once. The time I opened my eyes a second later to find him on top of me, pressing against me through his jeans, through my jeans licking my lips till the phone rang, the time I walked into his room and heard him moan, he hadn't heard me and I hastened out, wanting to stay and watch him but really, what would people say, and he say if I got caught, or when I told him on the phone, how delicate girls are, because I was just a girl then, and how he must be careful with any girl, and I didn't talk about myself in particular though I knew it would be, Me, just because I didn't want him to know I wanted that, and I told him how it would hurt for girls the very first time, and how he must be gentle, and caring, and learn self control, and later how girls, just like boys, can't help it, that they have to touch themselves in ways, and he told me he was hard, and I must have turned red but ofcourse I didn't see myself. And I started to ask, how big is and never completed my question. He mumbled it into the phone, and I pressed my thighs together.

Dear Reader

Don't ever try that at home.

And now, today, when he saw me standing there in front of him with my blouse torn, was he repulsed? Did he enjoy the sight? Did he just hide it well? Is he thinking about it now? About me in his t shirt and if he'd just looked he would've seen everything there was to see.

Whoever that boy was, I didn't even remember his name. But he is the cause of my beau sitting across the room, and not wanting me like I want him, so much right now.

I'll try again. I'll try to nudge his shadow with mine. If I think hard about it he'll read my mind. He'll get up and come over and drop to his knees in front of me. He'll tear of my t-shirt and kiss me. And my body. Three years of making him wait, and telling him "˜not now, soon', three years of smouldering memories of brief touches and titillating dreams and oh I'm delirious. He doesn't want me anymore. He's lost his desire for me. Because I made him wait.

I've been reading too much fanfiction. I'm becoming the stereotype I don't want to be, pinned down in these words. And he's still not looking at me. I want to cry. Yes I think I'm crying again. Oh wait he's standing up. And his shoulders are blocking the light, and he's coming towards me and I'm crying stupidly, but I can't help it.

Through my tears, he whispers close your eyes. He's been practicing. Shh"¦ he tries to calm me down, more cliches but look, I've stopped crying. He's moving in to give me a watery salty kiss, and oh! There go my panties. My arms are raised against the wall and he's holding them in a strong grip. I'm unsure of what to do with my legs, but as his weight falls onto my body his jeans rub against me.
Not now, I hear myself saying.

What!

No I can't be saying that.

Not now, but soon, when the time is right, these are the exact words I'm saying to him
And he is standing in front of me.
See you later. Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe not he has just told me.