‘Widen your legs,’ I order.
Blondie rushes to obey.
I swing the leather right on her clit. She screams and climaxes instantly. Totally spent, she falls to one side. She is already snoring gently when I grab Rita and shove my never-ending erection into her mouth. She sucks on it willingly and voraciously, but it is not enough. For some reason I feel angry. With her. With myself. With the entire world. I grab a fistful of her hair and holding her head still, fuck her mouth hard and fast, but it is still not enough.
I pull out of her and push her so she is flat on her back.
I order her to raise her hips and she obeys immediately. While pinching her nipple I shove a finger into her ass. As I finger fuck her ass I tell her to do the same to her pussy. She does two things. She squeezes my finger with her ass and plunges two fingers into her gaping hole again and again until she squirts all over her own hand. Drops of dew glisten on her coppery, heart-shaped pubic hair.
‘I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed your performance,’ she whispers, her eyes sultry, her forefinger delicately tracing the ink on my forearm. She looks at me with a wheedling expression. God, I detest women who pretend to be weak in order to control men.
I immediately start moving away from her.
‘Fuck Demi in the ass before you go,’ she says suddenly, her voice hard as pebbles.
I turn around and look at her. She is smiling, but her eyes are fathomless pits of shadows. For an extraordinary moment something shimmers between us, her cruelty, my coldness.
My cock stirs to life.
I turn my head to look at the sleeping girl. She is lying on her side with her knees curled. Poor thing can’t sleep on her front because her nipples are so raw they are twice their natural size. Can’t sleep on her back because her ass is so angry. Even her pussy has been so battered it juts out like a peeled plum from between her thighs. It actually looks as sore as hell.
I turn back to Rita and her eyes are an open door into the darkness in her soul. At that moment I see into her. And suddenly I pity her … and myself.
Is this it for us?
Is this all, we who save ourselves above everyone else, and thrive at the expense of others, will ever have?
Anonymous, meaningless fucks with other damaged creatures of the night. Where there is no guilt because it is too dark to see the willful damage we leave behind. At moments like this, does a little part of my soul crumble into dust, and fly away? The secret to the labyrinth is always at the beginning. Before you enter. Once you do it is too late. The thought makes me feel empty and depressed.
‘Breakfast is included,’ I say coldly, as I vault off the bed.
‘Is sausage on the menu?’ she calls.
I don’t answer her. Naked, I head for the shower. My hands are not clean. My greatest enemy is myself.
NINE
Layla
I walk into my local supermarket, pick up a basket, and head towards the milk section, where I grab a carton. I then quickly make for the yogurt shelves. I haven’t told anyone, not even Madison, my best friend, about the disgraceful thing I did in BJ’s bedroom two weeks ago, or the way he retaliated. It is a combination of confusion and shame. Specifically, my reaction to the punishment I received. Sometimes, at night when I am in bed, it pops into my mind and I quickly kick it away without examining it.
It seems to fit in with the tawdry mess that my life has disintegrated into. Only a month ago my life seemed perfect. I had a gorgeous boyfriend, I was training as an apprentice at a top interior design firm in Milan (a post Jake had secured for me), and I was feeling strong and independent. Then last month I walked out of my job without telling anyone and ran back home with my tail between my legs. It all began when I opened a little email that began with
You are fucking MY boyfriend!
When it’s in Italian it sounds a lot worse. She had attached hundreds of photos going back five years, which indeed proved that I was fucking her boyfriend. They had celebrated birthdays, barbeques, parties, and countless occasions in the company of a whole crowd of friends, none of whom I had met, of course.
I sat at my desk utterly shocked and sick to my stomach.
But he told me I was the most beautiful woman he had ever met. That no one was more beautiful than me. And he was going to take me to meet his parents next week!
I stayed over in his apartment. There had been nothing to tell me that he was cheating and so blatantly. There wasn’t even a case of lipstick in his bathroom cupboard. The magnitude of his deception was inconceivable. Unbelievable.
I looked at his handsome face in the pictures laughing, happy, and utterly devoted to the pretty, olive-skinned woman at his side. I hadn’t known him at all. Or was it simply that I was more naïve that even my brothers believed? I felt so stupid. So cheated. So hurt. I didn’t want anyone to know that I had been the victim of such an elaborate charade and I never wanted to see the slick bastard again. All I wanted to do was run home to my mother’s house and lick my wounds in private.