I take it in my mouth, slowly then forcefully, and watch him crumble. The moans escape his mouth are hidden pleas, begging me to take him in further. The second his tip hits the back of my throat, I use my hands to control the speed, all the while stroking him.
He is completely losing control.
Serves him fucking right.
His hands move to the back of my head. With his fingers running through my hair he moans loudly, and in a sudden move he pushes me away, turning me around to face the brick wall.
“Fucking tease. Now it’s payback.”
Another foil packet rips, and he re-enters me in just one short breath.
There is no holding back as he slams inside me; this time his thrusts are hard and fast without any delicacy. I beg him to fuck me harder, surprised by my own words, and he obeys with a brush against my clit that throws my body into a complete meltdown.
“I feel you. You want to come, Presley?”
I nod, not sure if words actually come out of my mouth.
He gives a final thrust with the loudest groan and just when I’m about to see stars, on the brink of orgasmic paradise, he pulls out of me and my buzz is gone.
What the fuck?
I don’t turn around instantly, allowing my brain to catch up with reality. My heart is thumping like a jackhammer, my breathing out of control as my lungs struggle to coordinate with my brain.
Did he just…?
The sound of his zipper being pulled up alarms me, followed by a gentle kiss on my bare shoulder. Without seeing his face, his breath lingers against my ear as he whispers, “Now you know how it feels.”
And then it clicks. As I turn around, I instinctively cover my breasts with my hands and attempt to adjust my dress.
He walks towards the motorcycle parked beside the door and climbs on. With his helmet in his hand, he blows me a kiss, then places his helmet on and jumps on the accelerator. He rides off with a rev of the engine, leaving me alone in the alley.
I watch him drive off, all the while thinking this is some fucking horrid nightmare. Did he just fuck me then leave me hanging without a happy ending?
I stomp my feet in frustration, screaming out into the air, “YOU FUCKING JERK!”
What have I just done?
I don’t have a second to think any longer, vomiting profusely onto the ground before I am rescued by a worried Vicky and taken home.
I spent the weekend in hangover hell, dressed permanently in my sweatpants that had a huge hole in the crotch which I only noticed after I came home from the grocery store. To make matters worse, I happened to be wearing my big-girl panties (often referred to as Aunt Flo’s couture) because I was fresh out of clean sexy ones and had zip all energy to go do laundry. They were unflattering, had some weird cat pattern on them, and I could have sworn the old man in the cereal aisle had spotted Kitty peeking out from the hole.
Cats—it’s an omen.
When you spend most of the weekend making friends with the basin, you vow to never touch an ounce of alcohol again. This is why drinking and being single is a deadly combination. Tequila was to blame. It always is. Nothing ever good comes from doing tequila shots.
Friday night was a huge blur, but I knew one thing—I screwed the Jerk in the back of the alley.
My life is officially over.
There haven’t been many moments in my life where I prayed that a genie would appear and grant me three wishes, but right now I’m on my knees begging for a magical wish to erase what happened.
The details of our ‘fling’ are a little hazy, and when I say hazy I mean I don’t remember anything apart from him driving off on his motorbike, without finishing our rendezvous, and me vomiting like the exorcist with Vicky trying to salvage my hair.
When I spot the red mark on my neck, a memory of him biting my flesh like a deprived vampire flashes before me and I shrivel up in embarrassment. I have used almost a whole tube of toothpaste to keep the redness down. It takes me back to high school when I looked like a leper dating this jock, Calvin. I was forced to wear scarves during the summer and pulled it off as some new fashion trend. My mother was so gullible.
Vicky apologized a million times for having to visit her parents on Sunday, leaving me to fend for myself and come up with a solution. I figured I’d take the mature approach and ignore him. Then I realized that was not going to work and the only way to face my demons would be to confront him head on. I’d even gone to the lengths of preparing a speech. I had a plan of attack, and after my laundry was done, the old Presley was slowing making her way back from ‘girls gone wild vacation’; I couldn’t have felt more content.
God, I was so naïve and delusional!
This, in turn, caused a sleepless night and being overtired.
The next morning, I decide I need to burn that excess energy and pent-up frustration by doing some major cardio at the gym. Trina arrives with Sarah again, and with a quick smile, I pretend to be busy on the treadmill with my headphones, hoping to avoid a conversation. If she caught wind of this, I would seriously get my kitty kicked.
With my iPod on shuffle, I purposely skip past the ballads and settle for some heavy metal. Good ole’ Alice Cooper’s Poison floods my hearing and I push myself to ridiculous speeds, almost falling off the machine. Zoning out of my surroundings, the memory of the way he entered me and the way my body reacted comes back to me and a throb between my legs grows. For a split second I close my eyes, and it’s like a movie being replayed in my head. Bits and pieces, piercings…wait! Piercings??
“Hey Presley! You look lost with the fairies. Anything wrong?”
Trina is standing in front of my machine and it’s a given that I cannot avoid her.
“Just a lot on my mind, you know, work stuff,” I lie.
“I understand. So listen, about the other day. I’ve decided to speak to Haden one more time and if that’s it, well…you’re right, I have to let it go.”
His name alone causes my head to contract into a massive migraine.
“Are you sure, Trina? Jerks like him ain’t worth your time. Besides, you know Allan at the front desk? He asked me about you.”
Her eyes light up immediately. “Allan with the bulging arms?”
I nod. “Seems the shy type, maybe just ease yourself in with light conversation.”
She pats my shoulder, thanking me, and is already at the front desk by the time I have a chance to take a breath. I hate lying, but she’s so young and needs to stay away from the Jerk. Yeah, where was that rational thinking on Friday night?!
I wipe my face and step off the treadmill with unsteady legs, barely able to hold myself up. Leaning on the machine to catch my balance, I glance towards the exit and see the Jerk with Mr. Smokin’ Hot beside him. Oh fuck no, it’s a double whammy! There is only one exit, unless of course I exit via the fire door which in turn would raise an alarm and force everyone to look at me. I would make such a shit fugitive. I procrastinate way too much. Yeah, except for Friday night.
There you go again.
My brain is working a million miles a minute trying to think of every possible way to avoid him. I change my mind; I’m not mature and seeing his face makes me want to slap it repeatedly then shove it between my legs so Kitty could get her happy ending.
You did not just say that, brain! Get out of the gutter right now!
This reminds me of a recurring dream I have about being naked. Usually, I’m on my way to work riding the bus completely naked. No one is directly looking at me but for some reason I can’t find any clothes and nobody will lend me anything. It’s embarrassing, and leaves me feeling very exposed and ashamed. The similarities to that dream are uncanny. And even though I’m fully dressed, all eyes are on me, judging me on what happened with the Jerk. Or so I think.