No going back now

He lets me take the lead, as he knows this is not my first time. He is good looking I will give him that. We would make a good couple if that was what either of us was looking for. He has his hands up my shirt before we even get to the car, they are softer than a man’s hands should be but he knows what he is doing. I let him push me against the wall of the club, his hands everywhere, his tongue in my mouth, hot and heavy, exactly how I like it. I let him kiss me for a while, I let him undo my bra and slip his hands in my pants and then I stop him. He has question marks in his eyes, when he looks at me. „Why not?“ He asks. „Not here,“ I simply say. I will never do it here, in public, where people will see me. My regressions are a private thing, something I do away from others. I know nobody of importance to me will see me here, but I’d like to think that if they did I at least respected them as much as not fucking this guy in the middle of an half-empty parking lot. He follows me to my car and gets in the passengers seat. „Are you ok to drive? You had a lot to drink.“ I don’t care for his attitude. He is making everything so hard, when I just want it to be over already. „You are welcome to leave any time.“ But he stays put. He puts his hands on my leg as if he wants to continue in here but I shake my head. „I live about 1 1/2 hours away from here.“ I say. He swallows hard, contemplating if this is worth it. I can see him trying to figure out how he will get home after he is done with me. But I don’t care about that, that is up to them. I will call them a cab if they ask nicely but that is it. I usually try not to even see them in the morning, if they are still there. Those are the rare occasions that Stewie gets to go out on real long walks if it means I can avoid dealing with the shame. „Well, my apartment is just 15 minutes away, we could go there?“ he shrugs, probably already suspecting that I don’t do that, which of course, I don’t. I like to be in the safety of my own home, committing my sins. Being somewhere else drags the bitter part out way to long and I don’t want that, I only want the rush, the adrenaline, the feeling that my life is in someone else’s hands for one night at least, that I have no control over whatever happens to me. But tonight I say „Ok, tell me where to go.“ He seems more surprised by that than I am. But the truth is, I don’t want him in my house. I still want him inside of me though.

***

We drive to his house in silence. I see him looking at me occasionally, and I can tell he is intrigued. He wants me, despite the fact that he knows that others had me, or maybe because of that. Some men are weird that way. I have heard it before, it is like they are children, they always want what the others have and to them I am the shiny new toy which they really want to play with. I know that I am pretty, it is not that I haven’t been told that before. My parents made a great deal of telling me just how perfect I was pretty much every day. „Angelic face“ is the expression they used often, even when I was just a little girl. So I know. It is not that I am insecure, that makes me want to do this. I reach over to him and grab his leg, slowly making my way to his crotch, keeping my eyes on the road. He is uneasy too, doesn’t know what to make of me but his body reacts just the way I knew it would. I pull my hand back and smile to myself. He tells me we are there and I pull into the parking lot with one swift move. I need something else to drink or I will have trouble going through with this, as I usually do. The booze helps numb that voice in the back of my head, telling me what a miserable creature I am, instinct driven, sad and pathetic, someone not worthy of anyone’s love, not even their mothers. So when we get inside I don’t really look around but ask him to get me a drink instead. He does, it’s vodka with ice in it and I down it quickly, holding up my glass for a refill. After the second one I feel better and look at his place. It is a boys place, sparsely furnished, cheap posters on the walls, an old couch, probably a relict from his parents house, facing a huge plasma screen TV. He must be younger than me but I don’t care. I catch him staring at me and the uneasy feeling returns. It’s not a normal stare, like you are watching someone you want to sleep with or someone you find interesting, it is as if he knows me, as if he is crawling inside of me and slowly gnawing away at the layers that make me. I want him to stop. I need him to stop. I turn away but can feel him behind me after a minute, his breath hot in my ear pulling me so close that I can feel him everywhere. He grabs me hard by the hips and spins me around, kissing me feverntly, teeth clattering together. He pulls my hair, tugs on my shirt, there is passion, but there is also violence and I am not sure how scared that should really make me. His grip on my hair is tighter than it should be. He twists it around his hands to pull even harder. He pushes me towards the bedroom, but doesn’t lead me inside but pushes me against the wall instead, just like he did at the club. He doesn’t stop kissing me and even though I am now sincerely scared I can feel that I still want him, or, my body does at least. All of a sudden he lets go of me, and just looks at me. „Do you like it this rough or does it bother you?“ I am not sure what to say, I do like it, I feel like I deserve it, still I don’t even know if I would feel any better in his company if he was gentle. I just see this as another form of punishment for everything I did. „It’s ok.“ I hear myself say. He smiles, I can see he has hoped for that answer, it’s what gets him off. He just needed the right girl to do this with and of course a slut like me will let him. He turns me around and lifts up my skirt, he is inside me before I can even think about breaking it off again. His thrusts hard and violent, his teeth sinking into my left shoulder. My scalp hurts from his still tight grip on my hair but I let the pain go. I don’t think anymore. I let him have me and I give him even more. I force him even deeper inside of me until I can’t think of anything but how good it feels to be free of any inhibitions and limitations.

We fuck more than once that night. Always the same way, always brutal and quick with little talk in between. It is almost light out, when I am done, when I can’t take it anymore. „I have to go.“ I say, pulling my skirt down and my underwear in place. We never even fully undressed. I can see he is not sad about it, but out of some sort of social obligation, he still asks „So, do you want to give me your number?“. I laugh in his face, it is a real laugh, because I genuinely think he is funny this time. „No, but thanks for asking.“ He looks confused but then I remember, that girls probably don’t react that way around him. But I also doubt they let him treat them, the way he treated me. „Ok, well, maybe I will see you around sometime?“ It is doubtful that he will but I nod still, I might be at the club again, even though I try to mix it up every once in a while so that precisely that will never happen, that I run into them again. Still he had seen me there before so it is possible it might happen again. „Bye Jessa, I had fun.“ I wouldn’t call it fun but it was what I wanted it to be. And nothing bad happened, well my uneasy feeling at least wasn’t justified. „Jessa,“ he called after me as I was almost downstairs by the door. „Yeah?“ „Are you really ok to drive?“ I laugh again and disappear from his life, hopefully forever.

It always strikes me as odd how men can use and abuse you and then still play the savior, whenever they feel like you should be needing them. I have to give him that he actually had asked me if I was ok a couple of times but other that that I know that he doesn’t give a shit about me, just about how I might talk about him later. He wants to be sure I tell my friends what an awesome night I had with this fucked up but genuinely nice guy, so should he ever run into them, they’d know he is one of the good ones. Too bad I don’t have any friends to run into.

I am dead tired as I drive home, and I know that I will have trouble staying awake if I don’t drive faster than I usually do. I am hoping that the adrenaline will be enough to keep me going until I get home. That is another reason why I like to stay at my house. I can just fall into a coma and don’t have to worry about getting home, getting undressed, taking off my make up or anything like that really. I try to keep my mind on what just happened, try to relive every moment of it so I can keep my blood pumping. It works for most of the drive. I do think about stopping for a second to go to the bathroom and take a quick nap but I decide against it. I don’t want to have my post coital hangover in the middle of a gas station somewhere in dumb fuck nowhere. So I keep in driving, my eyes closing more often in the end, I know this isn’t good, but it’s only a couple of more minutes. I sing along with the radio, something that I used to do before I came here, but the music was different then. The other drivers probably think I am happy, and for a brief moment I let myself believe that I could be. I finally arrive at my house, take off my clothes and my make up. I will shower later even though I long to be clean. I climb onto my couch and throw a blanket over me, I will not lay in bed, dirty with a strange man’s scent on me. And finally I fall into a deep sleep.

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