Sunlight coming through the window, lighting up the room, woke me, plunging light beams through my eyes, into my brain. I covered my eyes, “Mother nature, you’re a bitch sometimes,” the words raced through the parts of my brain that still worked, “Turn out those lights!”
Morning had arrived. It was time to get up. I had to go. That’s when I noticed her. Her arm, and leg draped across me, her head on my shoulder. Not a stitch on. Both of us, starkers. “Oh, yeah. No I remember.” I looked at her blonde hair, “Julie.”
I untangled myself from her, staggered to the bathroom, relieved myself. It wasn’t my bathroom, wasn’t my apartment. I remembered we’d gone to her place. Mostly ‘cause I was too ripped to drive.
As I stared in the mirror, I remembered us getting naked, and doing everything. I mean everything. Every way. She wanted it all, and I was happy to do anything she wanted. It had been a fun night.
After a few minutes of memories, I headed back to the bedroom. Julia got up, and made her pit stop. She came back, and didn’t ask. She threw the covers off the bed, and planted her head between my legs. I watched her head move up and down. After a minute, she stopped. We rearranged, her on her hands and knees, me on my knees behind her. And I watched every stroke I made into her.
Yeah, I finished.
We showered, I let my fingers play. She gleefully rode them as the soap and water washed away. We wound up back on the bed, her on her back, humping my fingers, me sucking her tits. She peaked, then pulled me on top of her. I wound up on my knees, her legs over my shoulders, as I stroked. I watched every stroke, which made it better.
After I finished, we got dressed, raided a breakfast place, and she took me to my car. “Let’s do this again,” she said. “Tonight.” She kissed me. “OK?”
“I’ll do this every night you want me to.”
Julia. The fifth in a string of women. I wasn’t looking for a soul mate, a partner, a girlfriend. I was looking for a sex. And when things got serious, I’d run away. Move to another apartment. Change jobs if I had to. Change my phone number and email address. I’d escape her, and find another lay somewhere.
And another one after that. Hell, I’d fuck every woman I could find. Because it worked. It distracted me. Meant I didn’t have to remember her. Didn’t have to cry. Didn’t have to hurt.
My heart, my soul, my life. Until the day she walked out. “I don’t love you any more.” That’s what the note said. “You’re not the same man I fell in love with.” She said I’d become stagnant, unchanging, dull and boring. She wanted more. She wanted someone who loved her, cared for her, didn’t treat her as a possession, a trophy.
So, I’d bang Julia for a while. A couple of weeks, or a month. Then, I’d leave. And find another woman to fuck. Then another.
No way was I ever gonna care for another person again. No way was I ever gonna hurt like that again.
Not after Maya.
This is my entry for Year 2, Week 30 (Week 2.30) of Jeff Tsuruoka‘s Mid-Week Blues-Buster flash fiction challenge. Please, go read the other stories in the challenge.