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Author's infos Gender: Male Age: 45 Location: N/A |
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I FELT NOTHING: PART TWO (SHE) By Wojo Martin This is the second installment of the three-part tale of jaded college senior, Ska whose inability to feel leads him to be an abusive seducer of women. The series leads us toward his eventual redemption, but this chapter finds him still at his worst. Be forewarned: This story is definitely erotically charged and features graphic sex scenes, but the driving forces behind the narrative are loss, pain and redemption. It made my test reader cry. In this chapter: The reader briefly meets the intoxicating and dangerous Lil; Ska’s twin sister Annie tries in vain to reach out to him; he recalls passionate encounters with his first love and ultimately the events that led to his fall from grace. This installment features consensual teen sex, teen lesbian sex, anal fingering, and male dominance. My redemption was not yet at hand. Over a month had passed since my twin sister, a resident assistant in a girls’ dorm, had belted me with a clipboard for humiliating one of her freshman charges. The stitches in my eyebrow had come and gone, leaving what a naïve freshman redhead had recently told me was a sexy scar. Not much else had changed. The little redhead’s night with me had ended with her feeling used and humiliated, and mine ended with me feeling nothing. Now I found myself faced with the prospect of a big holiday week. Thanksgiving Break was upon us. For once, Annie didn’t call me and try to talk me into going home. I wouldn’t have gone anyway. I had my own little holiday traditions. As I headed back to my apartment, I passed a goth girl with her re-usable grocery bags brimming with ramen noodles. She was obviously struggling to open her door. I walked past without saying a word or offering to help. “Asshole,” she whispered. “Cunt.” She got the door open. “I hate you, pig.” “Right back at ya, skank.” “You coming in or not?” “Well…what the fuck?” I shrugged and walked through the door, grabbing one of the bags and carrying it to the butcher block in the kitchen area of her tiny apartment. “How you been, Lil?” “Knee-deep in pussy. How about you?” “The same, I’m glad to say.” Lily slipped out of her trench coat and reached for my jacket, which I handed to her. She carefully hung hers on the hook and tossed mine on the floor next to her cat box. Lily was probably my favorite person to spend time with, but that’s not saying much. I held everyone in mild contempt, except for myself. Me, I loathed deeply. “So, Ska, still banging freshman chicks and walking out on them?” “Still making young townie girls cry?” “Mostly, but I’ve been branching out. I fucked my cat’s stuck-up little veterinarian last month. Had to change my cell phone because she kept calling me.” “Can’t blame her, Lil. You’re the only one I keep coming back to. I mean, sweet Jesus, look at you!” “Shut up. I hate compliments from you.” “Got one lined up?” “What do you think? It’s Thanksgiving, isn’t it? God, you’re fucking stupid, Ska.” “What we got?” “A little break from the usual teenybopper, first year teacher from the local elementary.” “Let me guess, a Barnes and Noble pick-up?” “You’d think. Prime lesbian hunting ground. Hell, ask any book-loving girl about what she’s reading and she’ll usually talk your ear off about it.” “No shit. That’s entry-level stuff, player.” “Whatever. This poor little lamb has been lonely since coming to a new town. I’d bet she hasn’t been laid since summer at least, maybe even since she graduated last spring, but I think she’s afraid to try finding a new girlfriend someplace where someone from school might see her. So, she’s been showing up at Sappho, but staying back in the corners, out of sight.” “So she’s batting for your team?” “Definitely, but she made an offhand reference to an old boyfriend. So, she’s not hetero-adverse, just more into girls than boys.” “You sure she’s the right type?” “I don’t think she’s ever fucked anyone except a serious boyfriend or girlfriend in her life. Of course, I could have brought her home a couple times now. I’ve been getting her worked up and then bailing. She wants me bad, and she’s going to have me bad.” “You’re not usually a tease, Lil. That’s more my racket.” “Well, if you want the right kind of girl for a tag team, it takes some maneuvering. You are going to love this gambit. It’ll take a real bastard to pull it off.” Over the next hour, Lil laid out the plan in detail. It would take a real bastard to pull it off, but it would also take an absolutely heartless bitch. We were well qualified. I headed home. Our mark wasn’t coming over until the next night. I used the free evening to finish some papers for classes. I usually worked weeks ahead of the rest of the students. I had long since stopped caring about learning, or even about my future, but I had found that I drew some pleasure from besting others at academics. I liked winning, always had. I was interrupted by a knock on the door. I expected it was Lil with another idea for a bit of fun for tomorrow. I was a bit taken aback to find it was Annie. “What the hell are you doing here, Anns? Figured you’d be at home.” “Been there, and back. I’m filling in for the hall director for the rest of the week. We still have a few girls left in the dorm over the holiday.” “Oh, do you?” “Fuck off, Scott. Leave my girls alone.” She pushed her way past me and into the apartment. She walked to the fridge and grabbed a beer. “Come on in. Make yourself comfortable.” “I’m your sister. I used to feel at home at your place.” She sat at the breakfast bar and took a drink. “Jeremiah dropped out.” “Oh. Who the fuck is Jeremiah? “Hannah’s boyfriend, ex-boyfriend.” “And Hannah is? “Fuck you. You know exactly who I’m talking about. That scar’s healing up pretty nicely, by the way.” “Thanks for that.” “Jeremiah was in love with her. He went into a depression after they broke up. His roommate and friends were on suicide watch for two weeks. They finally called his parents and they took him home. His college career is likely ruined. Hannah’s tough, though. She can deal with what you did to them. But she’s still pretty guilty about Jeremiah’s situation.” “You talk about these people like I should care. What’s even funnier is that you think I’m responsible for what’s happening to them. Hattie was hot for a good fucking that she obviously wasn’t getting from her weak-assed boy. She chose me to do the job. It would have been someone else sooner or later. All this was going to come to pass with me or without me.” “How do you sleep at night?” “With my eyes closed and one hand on my dick. Did you come over here just to catch me up on old friends?” “No. I knew that wouldn’t be worth the trip. I brought you your name for the family Christmas drawing.” Annie pulled a sealed envelope from her back pocket. When I made no move to take it from her, she left it on the counter. “Maybe you’ll actually show up for Christmas and deliver the present in person this year.” “I’m real sure that’s going to happen.” “Fine. Mail another gift card.” I sandbagged her with no response. “Remember what Christmas at home used to be, Scotty? How warm the house was? How good it all smelled? SHE used to love coming to Christmas at our house. Her family was so small, but she loved all the cousins and aunts and—“ “Don’t.” “Don’t what? Talk about someone we both loved so much?” “Every conversation we have turns to the same damned thing. Why are you so stuck on it?” “Because I loved her. She was my best friend.” “More than that.” “You’re right, Scott. More than that.” “It’s been nice talking to you, Sis.” “Talking? You never talk anymore. There’s no one else here, Bro. God Scotty, please just say what you feel. Let’s do this thing. Finally, please, let’s do this thing.” “What do I feel? Nothing. Not a god-damned thing. Not for you; not for her; not for anyone or anything. Now, go the fuck away.” “You’re the one that’s stuck on it, Scotty. She would hate what’s happened to us. You have to move on; she would want you to move on.” “She doesn’t want anything. She can’t want anything.” “You still love her so much.” “I don’t love anyone.” “If you don’t care, why can’t we even say her name?” “Get out, Annie.” “I want to say her name.” “Don’t.” “Em—“ “GET OUT!” I grabbed Annie by the upper arm and started pushing her toward the door. “You sure scream loud for someone who doesn’t care about anything!” she said as I continued to push her. She flung her arms around my neck and hugged me tightly. She cried onto my shoulder. “I love you, Scotty. Come back to us. I know you’re in there somewhere.” “Get off me!” “For eighteen years I watched you growing to become a good man, maybe a great one. Now, it kills me to see you like this.” I broke her hold and took her by the wrist as I opened the door. “I’m sorry, Scotty. I was in love, too!” I pushed her out the door. She caught her toe on the carpet and fell to the floor. She landed awkwardly on her other wrist. “OW!” I stood in shock. “Annie, I—I—never meant to--“ “It’s okay, Scotty. I’ll be okay.” She winced in pain as she pushed herself up from the floor. “You need ice?” She shook her head and stood holding her wrist. “Stay away from me, Anns, okay? I can’t give you what you want. It’s just not in me anymore.” “Yes it is. You’re my twin. And there are so many feelings inside me that there have to be feelings inside of you, too.” “Fuck off, Anns,” I said softly, and with far less edge than I wanted it to have. “I love you, too,” she said and walked away, massaging her wrist. That night I did not sleep well. I tossed and turned in a combination of dreams, memories and imaginings. I had visions of a tiny little beauty. The dream started the day she had walked into my kindergarten class and stared at us. “You look alike,” she said. “What’s your names?” “We’re twins,” I said. “She’s Annabelle and I’m Sco.” “Your name is Ska?” “His name is Scott,” Annie answered. “He can’t say the t’s at the end.” From that day forward, my tiny little angel called me Ska. We were instantly friends, the three of us. Annabelle, Ska and—She. Even in my dreams, I never spoke her name. In the dream, she climbed to the top of the slide and stood looking down at my sister and me. “I’m going to kiss you someday,” the dream said. Then she smiled and leapt off the slide and flew over the playground fence. Suddenly she was in fourth grade, standing atop a ladder and hanging a decoration for the church Christmas pageant. I could see up her skirt and caught a glimpse of the way her light pink panties showed through her white tights. “Someday, you’ll touch me under my skirt,” the dream said. She raised her hands in the air, leapt backwards from the ladder and flew around the church. Then she was in the summer after sixth grade, climbing the tree ahead of me. Her tight denim shorts were inches from my face, and I swear she put intentional wiggles and gyrations into her movements as she climbed. The tie strings of her bikini top hung tantalizingly within my reach. We reached the limb we were aiming for, and she took the rope to swing out over the water. The temptation overcame me, and I expressed an eleven-year-old’s love the only way I could think of in that instant. When she stepped off the branch, I tugged the strings on her top. The top fluttered down into the water. She squealed and covered her bare chest with one hand. She hung suspended on the rope and looked back at me; for an instant she gave me her pixie smile. Then she released the rope, throwing both hands out to the side, and allowing me a glimpse. The dream floated in the air, turning several somersaults before she stopped and gazed at me, hands extended to give me a full view of her naked torso. “Someday, I’m going to make love to you,” she said. Annie called out to her from below, and the vision plunged down into the water. I saw her in the eighth grade, completing a complex final tumbling pass on the balance beam. She stuck the landing and smiled to the crowd, hands raised in the air, chest out. She smiled her happiest smile. With her body extended, her unitard rode deep up into her crotch and tiny bottom. She smiled and waved to Annie and me in the crowd. As she left the floor, she gave us one last pose, smiling as my face betrayed my thoughts. “Someday, you’ll fuck me in the dirtiest ways,” the dream said. “And I can be such a filthy little bitch.” She sprouted wings and flew over the adoring crowd. Sophomore year, she was sitting between Anns and me in the back seat of an empty school bus. We had snuck away from the group on a boring field trip and were laughing and joking. Anns had her arm over our tiny friend’s shoulders and their faces were incredibly close. I recalled a shameful daydream in which the girl I adored shared a bed with me… and my twin sister. An impulse seized me, and I grabbed her and kissed her fiercely, our first kiss outside of games of Truth or Dare. She kissed me back but then leapt up and pulled away from the two of us. She got on top of the seat ahead of us and ran the length of the bus on the backs of the seats, something I could never have imagined doing. She got to the front and stood atop the first seat, her hands on the roof of the bus. She turned and smiled at us. “Sweet Ska,” the dream said. “You’re not the only one here I want to make love to.” She leapt down but didn’t land on the floor; she floated out of the bus door. Dreams of unspoken truths gave way to dreams of the moments of their fruition. We were juniors, and her parents were gone. The three of us were watching a movie, piled in a heap on the floor in front of the couch. I suddenly scooped her up and carried her down the hall to her bedroom, leaving Annie alone with the popcorn. I took my tiny beauty for the first time that night. It was the sweetest moment of my life, nothing but innocence and love. When we were done, we quietly walked back down the hallway to check on Anns. My lover suddenly put her arm out in front of me and stepped back from the spot where the hallway opened into the living room. She looked at me and then led me in quietly leaning around the corner and watching as my twin sister writhed on the floor in ecstasy, madly fucking herself with her own fingers. Dream Annie looked up at us and the world froze. “I’m thinking of both of you,” she said and resumed her self-pleasuring. I wanted so badly to touch myself, but was saved when the tiny arm across my chest slid down, and a gentle hand began to stroke me through the front of my jeans. My little lover led me back down the hallway. We would make love a second time, but this time we sought not just the love and comfort of one another’s willing bodies, but searched fumblingly for new ways to reach higher levels of intimate pleasure. She asked me to strip, and did the same. We stood and studied one another’s naked bodies. My tiny lover placed her back against my chest and nearly disappeared as I wrapped my arms around her. I was not particularly tall, but towered nearly a foot over her. With me behind her, she placed my hands on her most intimate places and guided my touches as she pressed against me. She dropped to her knees and kissed and fondled my impossibly erect manhood, and asked if I liked this and then that. For the first time, she took me fully into her mouth. Then, she guided me to the bed and mounted me. Her angelic face nearly glowed with pleasure as she tested the limits of what we could stand. When we finished, we had no words to say except the simplest and most important words of all. “I love you.” The joy of the moment was incomparable. She jumped up and down on the bed and whooped in playful glee, signaling to her best friend that we were done and about to return to the living room. With a final great bound she leapt from the bed and toward the door. In the dream, I saw her walk on the air through the doorway and disappear into the bright light of the hallway. The door snapped tightly shut behind her, and I frantically raced over, but was unable to open it, unable to follow my love where she had gone. I woke with a start, her name nearly leaping from my mouth before I strangled it short. I sat up, unable to simply roll over and sleep as my heart pounded in my chest. Actual memory took the place of the dreamlike images which had careened through my aborted slumber. It was the week before we left for college. She was eager to go. She had chosen to go to my parents’ alma mater with Annie and me. She believed her life was going to be perfect; her best friend was her roommate, and the love of her life was at the same school. There were going to be new frontiers to explore, but the three of us would be together. She spoke so often about the “three of us,” and seemed unaware of the danger that scenario posed. Annie and I felt the pull toward not only our tiny beauty, but toward one another. Still neither of us was capable of crossing that line. Nor would we ever be. There could be no “three of us” in the end. My love came day into my room that late summer day with more than her usual mischief in her eyes. The idea of “new experiences” was forefront in her mind of late. “Wrestle me,” she said. I playfully took her down to the bed. “NO!” she said firmly. “Don’t wrestle around with me. Wrestle me. Pin me down. Beat me like you beat all those guys you wrestled.” I was dumbfounded. She got up from the bed and pushed me as roughly as she could. “You can’t have me,” she said with a haughty air in her voice. “Until you’re man enough to take me!” She shoved me again, and then moved toward the door. Instinctively, I leapt up and grabbed her by the arm. My love swung her free arm and caught me across the side of my head with her forearm. “Get your hands off me; I know what you want, you filthy pig!” she hissed. I grabbed her with both hands, pinning her tiny arms to her sides. She kicked me in the leg. “You aren’t man enough to have me!” I picked her up off of the floor and held her high up over my head. She was 90 pounds of twisting, kicking wildcat. She nailed me in the chest and ribs. Her flip-flops flew off her feet, but she kept swinging her legs. I tossed her onto the bed, watching her gracefully manage a landing and spring back up to run past me. I grabbed her near arm with my left hand and wrapped my right hand around her neck. I forced her down onto the bed. I positioned myself between her legs and held her in place. I held my left arm up and warded off a barrage of fists. With no room to draw her arm back, she soon saw that she could not muster the power to stop me. The blows subsided, but she kept trying to twist away from me. I dropped my hips on hers, and centered my weight there. She was effectively immobilized. I moved my right hand from her neck and pinned both her wrists above her head. I used my left to roughly tear her halter top off of her body. She often skipped wearing a bra, her breasts were so tiny. Her torso was completely bare. I kissed her neck and ravished her chest. “I am going to fuck you so hard, little slut,” I said at last, finding a voice I didn’t know I had. She tried to buck her hips up, but only drew the response of me grinding into her harder than before. Slowly, her attempts to throw me became attempts to meet my hips. She was squirming with an ecstasy I had never seen from her before. I snatched her shorts and panties away, leaving her naked beneath me. Her pubic hair was trimmed into a tiny strip. I pulled lightly on it, and she moaned, swearing under breath. “Strip me,” I commanded firmly. I rose up, and she started to bolt for the door. I caught her around the waist and threw her to the bed. “You little slut! You are mine, and you will do as I say. Strip me.” She pulled my shirt off over my head and kissed my chest. Then she loosened my shorts and pulled them down. She took my cock in her hands and looked at me, expecting to be ordered to suck me off. I shoved her down onto her back. She slid away from me a bit, but seemed resigned to let me between her legs for a missionary fuck. She had awakened a beast within me, and I wanted something besides simple missionary. I wanted to see her squirm in more new ways. I grabbed an ankle and pulled one leg straight up in the air, lifting her nearly completely off of the bed. I had no worry about hurting the little gymnast. I had seen her do splits too many times. I roughly took a thumb and began fucking her with it from beneath the leg. She bucked and moaned. I stood up on the bed, sideways to her suspended body. My right hand pinned her leg to my shoulder. I pulled my thumb from inside her and replaced it with my finger; the thumb, I placed at the opening of her asshole. It was the first time I had penetrated her there in any fashion, and she clenched down and squirmed, attempting to fight against it. I pulled my hand out altogether and slapped her on the ass. She stopped squirming. “You challenged me, little slut. Now, you WILL take my thumb in your ass. I won’t hurt you, but you will do as you’re told.” I placed my thumb in her pussy again to get it wet, and I then returned to a finger in her cunt and my thumb at her asshole. She didn’t fight it this time, and I managed to get a few inches of thumb inside of her. “Fuck my thumb,” I said. Slowly, she began to use her arms, neck and shoulder to push herself against the thumb and worked most of it in. Tears were beginning to flow from her eyes, but she did her best and soon seemed able to move around on the thumb without much discomfort. “This is okay,” she whispered. “I can do this for you.” Implied was that she was not ready for anything more than a thumb. “I won’t hurt you,” I said. “…slut.” She tried to push herself further onto the thumb. “Look at you fucking my thumb with your ass. What a whore.” Her increased efforts told me that this was the side of me she wanted to see. I loved watching her, but I couldn’t wait another minute to be inside of her. I dropped her with no warning, then grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her over to the wall. I pushed her face against the wall and then grabbed her ass cheeks. Her favorite thing had long been having me standing behind her and gently reach around to stroke and finger her tiny pussy. But now I stood behind her with a different intent. I fucked her up against the wall, holding her up with only one arm and wrapping the other around her neck. With a flex of my bicep, I could cut off her air. I did it a few times to show her I could. She moaned in pleasure and wept at the same time as the boy who loved her so deeply and so gently took her brutally against the hard surface. I lasted as long as I could, and then released inside of her, every muscle of my body seeming to focus on the final thrusts and the spasms that followed. I was nearing the end of my ability to remain standing, but leaned my weight against the wall as I found her hand and led it to her clit, allowing her to finger herself to a climax. It didn’t take her very long. She was done in. She collapsed against me. I picked her up and gently placed her on the bed. I lay behind her and wrapped her in my arms. “Ska,” she whispered, “Will I be your little bitch forever and always?” “Yes. I will love you forever, E—“ I cut the memory off right there. Imagination took over. This vision came easily; I had pictured the events in my mind a thousand times before they had actually happened. She flirted with Annie all the time, and Annie reciprocated. It seemed that all girls flirted with their best friend, telling her she’s pretty, taking her hand, looking deeply into her eyes for a little too long. It was love and affection, supposedly free from sexual tension, but actually rife with it. Most girls never completely cross the line, but that is because most don’t have the leanings to go too far in that direction. But she and Annie were different. She had a mind which opened itself to all types of love, and I had caught Annie looking too hard at girls too many times not to know that her high school boyfriends had never stood a chance at becoming the love of her life. I had drawn guilty pleasure from imagining the two of them together since at least as early as eighth grade, maybe even earlier. What was their private life like, when they were alone in a room together? The modeling of outfits, the talk of sexual adventures, the shared tears and giggles. I saw it begin with a moment of touching that lingered just a little too long. Annie kissed her first; that would always be the same. There would silence, and a look of horror on their faces. They would want to turn away in shame and never speak of it again, but then she would suddenly return Annie’s kiss. The exchange of kisses and the wandering hands that followed would be frenzied. “I have loved you for so long,” Annie always whispered. “Oh, Annie! Sweet, sweet girl. I love you, too.” The shame they would feel in my vision was no less than the shame I felt in reality as I had masturbatory visions of my twin sister making love to my beautiful little girlfriend. She would have been the first to start removing clothing. She almost always was with me. She loved to gaze at her lover’s naked body, and she loved to have her own naked form be admired. She had e-mailed me hundreds of pictures through the years. Part of her would have loved to post them, but she never would. Sexual acts for her, even the filthiest her vivid imagination could muster, were tied to love and affection. She would have studied Annie, growing hot as she saw Annie’s eyes devour her form as well. She would move to the stereo and turn the music up loud to mask her sometimes loud responses to lovemaking. She would cross to the door and lock it, a final act of commitment to seeing the encounter through to its end. Then she would move slowly around my sister, trailing a finger across her firm buttocks as she moved behind her and kissed Annie’s shoulders, causing my sister to shudder. She would have completed her circle and ended with her back to Annie’s chest. Her tiny hand would reach up and pulled Annie’s head down as she craned her neck to meet Annie’s eager kisses. I always had to fight off a self-induced climax as I saw my love slowly pull Annie’s trembling hand to reach around and touch her tiny pussy. She would purr as Annie began to stroke and probe her. Annie would become gradually more aggressive. My sister knew better than I ever would how much a girl loved a touch more pressure. Annie would use her own reaching and thrusting hips to push her tiny lover further onto her fingers. Maybe she had heard enough of our story to know that she should wrap a firm arm around the little one’s neck and demonstrate her control. Annie was a strong girl; a rough and tumble girl, and she was six inches taller than the girl she loved so deeply. But the tiny one was no wilting flower. She would turn on Annie, push her down to the edge of the bed and kneel between her legs, desperately attacking Annie’s sex with kisses and nips. My twin would respond as I did with helpless ecstasy followed by soft growls and bucking motions. For probably the first time in her life, Annie would feel the pressure of a finger at her asshole, and struggle to find a way to relax and let her inside of it. My guiltiest moments came when I imagined Annie whimpering helplessly as tiny finger probed her ass. She would surrender completely to the sensation for a time, and then her body would shake with a tremendous orgasm as she climaxed to her first female lover’s passionate attentions. “Oh, my love!” she would sigh when she found her voice at last. Annie would recover her strength and her sexual aggression would reveal itself. She would hoist her lover’s petite body onto the bed and go down on her with love and passion. My love would giggle at first, delighted to have Annie so worked up. Then she would allow her own aggression to surface, squeezing her tiny legs around Annie’s head and shoulders’ pulling her dark hair and moaning with pleasure. By the time we were in college, I imagined that Annie had heard every detail of what I had done with this beautiful little body. Wanting to bring her love to a frenzy, she might use her intimate knowledge of her likes and work her hand into position. Tentatively, she would press her thumb against the opening of the gorgeous little ass beneath her. Here, my lover would pause and reach down to pull Annie’s hand away. Annie would freeze and then draw back slightly. A tiny hand would capture Annie’s thumb and pull it to her mouth, kissing it, sucking on it, licking it. Our lover would roll onto her belly and guide the thumb back to her ass. “Pull the cheeks apart,” she would order softly. Annie’s shaking hands would slowly comply. “Spit. It’s okay, my love. Spit on it first.” Annie would lean in closely and nuzzle the asshole for a second before she let spit stream from her mouth into the opening. “Slowly, but firmly.” Annie would lovingly push her thumb into the tiny little hole. Her lover would know what to do from here. The tiny ass would rise and fell against Annie’s thumb as she watched in amazement at her true love fucking her thumb with her ass and then sliding back down onto the fingers she had slid down to finger herself from beneath. She would ass-fuck and grind herself to a powerful orgasm as Annie’s free hand found its way to her own sex. I never made it past this image without cumming all over myself. My favorite image in all the world was my twin sister fucking my girlfriend’s ass with her thumb, just as I had done. I felt tremendous guilt about the pleasure I drew from the very thought of this coming to pass. I shifted from imagination back to memories, memories of a subzero December Saturday in our freshman year. I was gone for the day, wrestling in a tournament at a neighboring college. It was one of the few tourneys the girls didn’t attend, but finals week was approaching, and they needed to spend the day studying so we could party that night. A frozen water main ruptured, and the gymnasium had to be closed. The tourney was cancelled, and we drove home. I went straight to the girls’ room. There was loud music, and they didn’t hear my knock. They didn’t hear the pirated copy of their key they had given me turn the lock. They didn’t notice the door swing open. My reaction to seeing my sister’s thumb up my lover’s ass was entirely different in reality than it had been in my masturbatory daydreams. Our world was torn apart. There were apologies, accusations, cruel words. Forevers turned into nevers. Love turned into hate that was really love. My lover saw the two most important people in her life begin to push and shove one another. She threw her naked body into my arms, begging me to stop, begging me to forgive her, begging me to say I understood their love, begging me to kiss her and tell it would all be alright. I put my hand on her chin and tipped her face toward me. She parted her lips to kiss me. I pulled her mouth open and delivered Apollo’s kiss to Cassandra, spitting into her mouth. I pushed her into Annie’s arms and walked out of the room. Girls were out in the hall, staring at me, wondering what the shouting was about. They looked at me and withdrew into their rooms as I passed, fearful of the cold look in my eyes. For two weeks, the girls tried to calm me, but I could not be consoled. Annie finally called in tears; the girls were moving to separate dorms. Annie offered to transfer schools if I wanted her to be even further away. Our lover had chosen me. They would never do it again, Annie promised. My sister begged me to forgive them and let them both back into my life. If not, could I at least take my lover back and just shut out Annie? My darling girl needed me, Annie said; our little beauty was dying inside. I hung up without responding. After a sleepless night in which I imagined a long, lonely life without either of them, I realized that I needed them both in my life if I was ever going to be a whole man again. Late that morning, I headed for my lover’s room. Her new roommate’s boyfriend answered the door. They hadn’t seen her since early that morning, but they were glad to see that I wanted to talk to her. They were worried about her…. That was three years ago. Now, I sat alone on the bed of my apartment and let my imagination fill in the rest of the story: She is climbing again, this time to the top of the superstructure of a bridge a mile from campus. She raises her arms to the sky… and leaps. Three of us died that day, but three years later, only Annie had found her way back to the world of the living. The next night, Lil and I started a two-day tag team on a sweet little third-grade teacher. She would willingly give up parts of her body and her soul that she had never shared with anyone. When we got bored with the game, she ended up being pushed out into the hallway on a Thanksgiving morning, her clothes in a heap at her feet. Lil and I never forced anyone to do anything they didn’t want to do—except leave. The pretty young teacher wept loudly in the hallway. Never had she felt so degraded and ashamed. Thanksgiving is the time when we feel grateful for every good thing in our life. I felt nothing. |
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