Saturday, August 20, 2005
He holds her underwear to his face. The red lace tickling his nose, but he doesn't care. Doesn't feel it. He pauses, pulls his hands from his pants and pretends he can't hear her at the door.
"I know you're there. I can hear the music. Fine. I'll see you tonight".
He had the music on on purpose. Hoping she'd think he couldn't hear her. He didn't want her so close, which was ironic considering.
He hears her footsteps leading away from his door. He resumes where he left off. He knows it won't last more than a minute. It never does when it's like this. Touching something of hers that has been so close to her. Something so intimate. It overwhelms him, and he pictures her. Wearing them. And then slipping them off. He then wonders about who else has touched them. Who has been inside her. It both angers and excites him. No one is worthy of touching her, yet, he pictures them invading her, and he likes it. Theyre rough with her, tugging on her hair, nibbling her lips, holding her arms back. He's becoming too rough now, he's hurting himself. But it doesn't matter. He just wants to feel like he's conquered her. Feel like it's not about her anymore. But it doesn't work. He finishes, but it's not over. It never is. With the others, the important ones, it was never over like that. Not until he hurts himself. Embarasses himself. Or hurts them. Then it's over. And he runs. New town. New Job. New Phil.
"I know you're there. I can hear the music. Fine. I'll see you tonight".
He had the music on on purpose. Hoping she'd think he couldn't hear her. He didn't want her so close, which was ironic considering.
He hears her footsteps leading away from his door. He resumes where he left off. He knows it won't last more than a minute. It never does when it's like this. Touching something of hers that has been so close to her. Something so intimate. It overwhelms him, and he pictures her. Wearing them. And then slipping them off. He then wonders about who else has touched them. Who has been inside her. It both angers and excites him. No one is worthy of touching her, yet, he pictures them invading her, and he likes it. Theyre rough with her, tugging on her hair, nibbling her lips, holding her arms back. He's becoming too rough now, he's hurting himself. But it doesn't matter. He just wants to feel like he's conquered her. Feel like it's not about her anymore. But it doesn't work. He finishes, but it's not over. It never is. With the others, the important ones, it was never over like that. Not until he hurts himself. Embarasses himself. Or hurts them. Then it's over. And he runs. New town. New Job. New Phil.
