All of Her: Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

In my first week dating Adam I discover three things. One, he is a suicide risk whilst intoxicated. Two, he is a chronic cheater. Three, he is an amazing lover. When we finally fulfill his "Star Wars" fantasy, I discover, too both my delight and utter astonishment, that he is an even better lover than Clark. I didn't think such a thing was possible, until it happened. Beside the point of course. The chronic cheating and suicidal tendencies are not something I think I can handle.

Partially because I would feel eternally guilty if he died. Partially because he is even more disturbed than I am. And partially because I don't know what I could catch if we weren't using protection. Which frightens me. I don't like being afraid of sex because of what I could catch. Every time we are supposed to meet up he is late and smells of French perfume. A dab of lipstick is always marking his shirt or his cheek. It surprises me sometimes how soon he can go for another round after finding round one elsewhere.

I suppose, as far as the cheating goes, two can play at that game. I can cheat just as easily as he can. Probably even a little easier, being a moderately attractive and sexually available female.

In my second week dating Adam I discover a problem. The problem is he really is a sweetheart and, as aforementioned, a fantastic lover. When we just hang out, its fabulous. We are best buddies and I enjoy that so much. We go to the adult store and play "Star Wars" dildo fights, with our own sound effects, until they kick us out. He helps do the dishes after dinner, even when I insist that he doesn't have to.

He's actually rather intelligent and he almost always beats me at Scrabble. He's a great guy except for the incessant cheating and a drunken suicide risk. It always comes back to that, of course. Mostly because its a big issue. Okay, its a really big issue.

On nights that I am not with him, I go to the gay bar and flirt with the girls. I strike up a tentative relationship with Julia, one of the cute bartenders. She always wears her vibrant red hair up in a ponytail and she isn't afraid to wear neon colors. She has a distinct affinity for "girly" drinks and this knee-length, orange, pencil skirt with a vibrant white and green rose snaking up the side. She is a great conversationalist and is not afraid to touch on controversial topics. She loves talking about politics and the supernatural.

"Did you know that the 'Bell Witch' is considered to be the only ghost to actually murder someone?" she says one night, pouring me another dirty martini.

"Really?" I say, sipping. "I thought that wasn't actually proven."

"Of course not. How could you prove a ghost killed someone? There aren't any ghostly fingerprints or ghostly DNA to test or look for. But its an interesting theory."

"I suppose if you enjoy that type of thing, yes."

"You don't believe in the supernatural?" she asks, stopping mid-pour.

"I never said that," I say. "I just don't know how 'interesting' this case is because I am not overly familiar with it."

"Its very interesting!" She says and then proceeds to tell me everything there is to know about this particular legend. She insists that she is going to go to the "Bell Witch" cave someday to see it for herself.

When we hang out she is always wanting to play her collection of Estonian rock music for me. Not that I genuinely mind, but it is a bit of a turn off when I'm trying to seduce her. When we finally get down to the naughty bits I discover that she is not very good at it. She tries, valiantly, of course, but fails miserably. I "date" her for only two weeks before we call it quits. Of course we end it amicably so I don't feel awkward whenever I go back to the bar and she is working.

In the meantime, I've still been dating Adam. We go through mood swings like a young girl going through puberty. One day we are fine and the next we are screaming at each other. One day he is fine and the next he is trying to slice his throat in my kitchen. One day we are passionate and the next we can't stand to even look at each other. After three weeks of this, I've had enough.

"Adam, we need to talk." I say, after we have finished eating.

"Okay, what do you want to talk about?" he asks, helping me clear off the table.

"I don't think we should see each other anymore."

"As in dating?"

"Yes." I run the water and start sponging off the dishes. At first he doesn't say anything and just places what I have rinsed off in the dishwasher.

"If that is really what you want." He finally says.

"I think it is for the best, don't you?" I say, turning toward him. Again he doesn't say anything. He just nods in acquiescence. I pat his arm and try to smile. I'm surprised that this kind of hurts me too. He attempts a smile and we finish the dishes together before he leaves. After he is gone, I wonder if I should've tried harder. If we should've tried harder. Even though I know that it would've never worked out.

He cheats, he drinks until he is suicidal, he breaks my heart and I'm not even in love with him. Clearly it was time to let go. At least he was kind enough to let go without a fight. On to the next victim. I mean, lover. And this doesn't take me very long at all.

I am out on the town, drinking it up at another bar on the south side of town. I feel even more at home at "The Walrus and the Carpenter" than I do at "Alice's Wonderland." It is here that I meet my next boyfriend, Liam.

Liam is a Scotch-Irish CEO of a major company. His hair is so black it is almost black-blue. He has a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and ethereal blue eyes. He looks almost like a young Pierce Brosnan. He even has a slight accent, making him even more irresistible. In short, he is gorgeous, in every sense of the word. We meet during an 80's throwback dance night. We end up making out on the dance floor while a song about dancing with somebody who loves you plays. It doesn't take us long to seek some solitude and we adjourn to his green Mercedes Benz.

That is our first night together. He isn't very impressive as a lover. In fact, he is rather selfish and refuses to let me achieve any satisfaction until he is completely finished. After, as he is buckling his pants back up and I am pulling my skirt back down to my knees, he smiles and gives me a saucy kiss.

"Let's do it again sometime, darling." He says, opening the door for me. I refrain from saying that I'd rather not have sex with him again. Especially not any time soon, but I smile and don't refuse his kisses. I give him my number and we agree to meet up again, this time for lunch.

We meet up at two at a little French restaurant along a man-made canal. He orders duck in a plum-whisky sauce with a Caesar salad. I order a small salad and a braised beef stew. He is very well dressed as he has just come from work on his lunch break. I am less well dressed in bell bottom jeans, a pink polo shirt and white flip-flops. He doesn't seem to mind, but I keep catching him frown at me.

"Is there a problem?" I ask, glancing down to see if I've spilled something on myself.

"No." He says, adjusting his face. "I was just wishing you'd worn that skirt you wore last time. It was easier to get access quickly."

I blush, though I inwardly scold myself for doing so.

"You only have an hour for lunch and it will take too long to eat." I say, taking a bite of my baguette.

"We could've skipped lunch." He winks and takes a bite of his duck. I smile, a little un-easily. I'd really rather not, but I suppose I have no choice.

"Would you like to meet up when you get off work, then? I could make it worth your while."

"I can't tonight. Tomorrow." He says it as though I have no choice but to say yes, without even looking at me. I frown and take another bite of my food.

"What time?" I say, nonchalantly.

"Two. Wear a skirt and no panties. Wear some better shoes too." He never looks up, just bosses me around whilst chewing on his duck. I try to grin, placidly, but find that I am grinding my teeth. It is one thing to assume I have nothing going on tomorrow, but another to tell me what to wear. I don't say a word and we finish eating in silence. This seems to suit him. As we leave the restaurant he pushes me up against his car and kisses me. I kiss him back, because he isn't bad at that, but shy away from his hands scooting down my pants.

"You don't have time." I say, trying not to sound like I'm pleading.

"Don't tell me what I do and do not have time for." he says, rather harshly. He kisses me harder and forces his hand all the way down my pants. I don't resist him, though my skin crawls as he rubs against me. He doesn't do anything except touch me, rather roughly. As I said, he doesn't have time to do more. With a hand still in my pants, he glances at his watch and then puts a hand in his own pants.

Embarrassed, I pray that he is quick with his hand. We aren't even in the car, though we are slightly blocked by it. I expect at any moment we will be caught and my stomach threatens to relieve itself of the braised beef and salad. Luckily for us, he is fast and I try not to lose my lunch. He wipes a little drool from his lips and kisses me again. He smudges some semen on my face, which I take, but do not appreciate. He doesn't even say goodbye, but gets in his car and drives off toward his office.

I don't know what to think or feel as I get into my car. I feel slightly violated. As if I had been forced to stand naked in front of a crowd that inspected me in detail. I go home feeling like I need a shower. I do so, before heading back to the book store.

The next day I don't wear a skirt, though I don't wear any panties. I wear a different pair of sandals, but they aren't that different from what I wore yesterday. I meet him in the parking garage of his office building. As he comes toward my car, I see him slipping something shiny into his pocket. I suspect it might be a wedding ring.

"We're taking my car." He says, flatly. He opens my door for me, but he quickly becomes irked when he sees that I am not wearing a skirt. He takes a little anger out on my car door, shutting it a little harder than necessary and, when we get to his car, he does not open the door for me again. He doesn't say a word as he drives us to a motel a couple blocks down the street.

"I could've met you here." I say, quietly.

"It won't hurt you to walk back, its only a couple blocks." He says, matter-of-factly. I keep quiet.

He pays for the room and takes my hand, leading me to it. Once we are inside his displeasure at my choice of clothing is made evident.

"I told you to wear a skirt." he says, pushing me back onto the bed. At least he unbuttons my pants before yanking them down. I hear a small ripping sound and begin to protest, but he covers my mouth. I think about biting him for a moment, but I am then thoroughly distracted as he enters without any kind of foreplay and I am completely unprepared. I make a small noise of disapproval, because it isn't exactly pleasant for me, but he ignores me. He takes what he wants and then, when he is done, he buttons his pants up and kisses me goodbye. He doesn't say a word before he leaves the room.

I sit up to assess the damage to my pants and to my person. There is a little blood, but not any worse than when I lost my virginity. There is a small tear just under the back pocket of my pants, but other than that they are not the worse for wear. I don't know what to do, except sit there. I think for a moment to call my mother and Brad, but I can't bring myself to. I am too ashamed to do that. I think to call Clark, but I don't want to bring him into this mess. So I call Noah.

"This is Noah." he says, brightly.

"Noah, can you come get me." I say, trying not to cry.

"Abe? What's wrong?"

"I just, I don't know what happened. Please, come get me." I give him the address to where I am and manage to pull my pants up. I keep telling myself that I wasn't actually assaulted. I came here for sex. That was the point. But I can't stop the feeling that I have been severely violated. I get up and sit in a chair provided. I sit there, frozen, until Noah shows up.

"What happened?" he says, as soon as he opens the door. He sees me, sitting in the chair, positioned as far away from the bed as possible and doesn't say another word. He helps me stand and leads me to his car. Once we are there he holds me as I sob, uncontrollably. I don't cry because it happened or even because of the pain. I cry because a part of me feels as though I deserved this. I have been whoring it up, this is what happens. I tell myself I won't see Liam again, but I know I will. I know I can't end it just yet.

Noah takes me to my car and then follows me home. When we get there he makes me something to eat and cuddles with me on the couch. I don't tell him what happened. I don't tell him anything. I just sit quietly, curled into myself, even shying away from his touch somewhat. He stays with me all day and even all night. He doesn't leave me until I ask him to go home the next day. Even then he hesitates.

"What's going on, Abra?" he asks. "You call me and ask me to come and get you from some motel on the south side of town. No explanations. Your car is a couple blocks away in a parking garage. You are practically catatonic, you shy away from my touch. What the hell happened?"

"I had a fight with a boyfriend, that's all." I say, not daring to look at him for fear he'll see through the lie. If he knows that I'm lying he doesn't say anything. He just hugs me tightly and goes home.

That night I go out to "The Walrus and the Carpenter" and I dance with a cute stranger. We make out in a corner for a little while before we take each other's hands and begin to head out of the bar. I shove all my fears down deep and act like nothing has happened. I even manage a smile until I see Liam come in. He sees me, sees me holding hands with another guy and I can practically see the anger rolling off of him in waves.

He comes up, grabs my free hand and tries to yank me toward the door. The other guy keeps hold for a moment and then I tear free of both of them.

"Whore," he says, venomously.

"What does it matter, you are married anyway." I say. "Why should you care what I do?"

He grabs me again and pulls me out the door. He shoves me toward his car and I stumble.

"How dare you?" he says. He pulls back and slaps me as hard as he can. My head jerks to the side and I taste blood in my mouth. It takes a moment for my vision to clear. I shake my head and hold a hand to my lip. He pulls back to hit me again, but a familiar hand stops him. He turns and gets punched in the mouth by Adam. Adam punches him again and shoves him to the ground. Once he is on the ground he kicks him in the ribs and grabs my hand. He pulls me away and we run to his car, before Liam even has a chance to catch his breath.

We drive off, but we don't go far. Adam pulls over and before I realize what is happening I am in his arms, crying.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" he asks, brushing a loose strand of hair out of my face. He lifts my chin and examines my lip. I have a cut from biting it when Liam slapped me. He kisses it gently and wipes away a stray tear.

"What were you doing there?" I ask. He already knows I'm not okay, why answer that question when I have so many myself.

"Drinking, like you." he says, smiling. "I saw you heading toward the door and then saw that asshole drag you out. I decided to follow, in case he tried to do something. I'm just sorry I didn't get there quick enough to stop him from getting the first hit off. I'm sorry, Abra, I tried."

I don't say anything, I just curl into his arms and cry some more. I am shaking.

"Don't leave me." I say. "Please don't leave me."

"I won't." He says, quietly. He kisses my hair and drives me home. When we get to my apartment, he carries me up, like a bride on her wedding night. He helps me change into pajamas, though I hate for him to see me. I have bruises from my last encounter with Liam along my sides and hips. He doesn't say anything, but I can see him getting angry.

Once I am changed, he turns on a movie and makes me a cup of cocoa. He holds me tightly, but gently. He doesn't leave, though I can tell that he'd like to go and continue beating the shit out of Liam. He stays with me all night, like Noah did the night before. He makes arrangements for a friend of his to bring my car home the next day. He stays with me the next day and the day after that. He leaves me for a short while to get a change of clothes from his place, but he returns within an hour. Total, he stays with me four days.

On the fourth day, I kiss him. I kiss him until he is as eager as Iam. I can't stand it, I have to purge myself of Liam. I have to. I kiss him until he can't stand it anymore and he carries me to my bedroom. Instead of just sex, for the first time in a long time, we make love. He is tender, only too aware of the horrific bruising that patterned my body for a short time. He takes his time and kisses me, whispering sweet nothings to me. We aren't meant to be together forever, but for the moment we are perfectly imperfect and for a few moments I can be in love with him.

He leaves that night, to go home and change. I tell him that I will be fine. I never let Liam know where I lived and that was the last time I would go to "The Walrus and the Carpenter." I will just stay close to home from now on.

"I'll come check on you later, then." He kisses me goodbye. We don't say anything about what happened at the bar or what happened between us. I know he felt what I did, but we don't mention it. We don't ever speak of it, actually. It is as though it never happened, though it is a moment I will cherish for the rest of my life. When I needed him, he was there.

We decide to date again, even though we both know that it won't last. We end up being a couple for another week before Adam asks me to forget him. Even though he says that we will still be friends, that is the last time I see him. He becomes a beautiful memory, just somebody I used to know.

The Horror of Red Mist

I am on a Horror/Scary kick right now, courtesy of my friend Joe. Last night I happened to go to Joe's group on Facebook, which I belong to. He had been posting creepy articles and stories, some of which I read and watched. Okay, I read all of the articles (and a few extras). I only watched parts of the videos, because they ended up being too disturbing for me.

One video in particular from an article titled "Red Mist" having to do with a "lost" episode of my favorite cartoon "SpongeBob SquarePants." The episode is titled "Squidward's Suicide" and, alternatively, "Red Mist." The article itself was disturbing enough, but the videos sent fresh chills down my spine. Particularly one of the Red Mist videos.

In fact, it scared me so badly that I ripped the headphones off of my head at one part and quickly closed out of the page before leaping to my bed. Which is where I remained for several minutes until Donnie checked under the bed for anything that might grab me. I'm serious, it freaked me out that bad. And all it was was a picture of Squidward with creepy bloody eyes staring. In the background you could hear what sound like screaming mingled with what was perpetuated to be a bagpipe and a clarinet. It got loud all of a sudden and I flipped. I didn't finish that video.

Now, I've been reading articles online and wishing I knew what it was I wanted to look for. Also wishing I had an encyclopedia set so I could just read through them, like I did as a child. (Don't look at me like that, it is perfectly normal for a child to pick up an encyclopedia and read through the whole thing.)

If you are interested in checking it out yourself here is the link: http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/Red_Mist

It is a companion article to "Squidward's Suicide." so you may want to read that first if you want the full story. Don't read this at night in the dark. At least, if you get freaked out like I do.

I am now watching "The Bathtub Mystery" on Dateline MSNBC's website. About a young woman, named Sarah (I'm serious bad shit ALWAYS happens to Sarahs.), who supposedly drowned in her bathtub. Luckily for me it is 2:18pm in the afternoon so I have nothing to be worried about. Right?

Obama 2012

Reasons why I am going to vote for Obama again:

1. Romney doesn't care about the poor. He then rephrases and says that we have a safety net. Excuse me, I'm ridiculously poor. I live hand to mouth most of the time. Where is my safety net? I don't qualify for most help because I am not pregnant or disabled. Where is my net?

2. Gingrich wants to colonize on the moon. We have enough problems here on Earth. The Moon belongs to God/Allah/Buddha/Whomever, not America. Not any country. We have no right to go and destroy it with our stupidity. Also, there are thousands of starving people in America that we could feed with the amount of money it would take to colonize the moon.

3. Santorum believes that sex is solely for procreation, nothing else. He believes that higher education challenges faith. He believes that Church and State should not be separate. He says that his wife had a life-saving "induced miscarriage" which is ABORTION and then says that women don't have that right, even if it could save their lives. Even though she had one to save hers. I could go on, but really, Santorum?

4. Obama has at least attempted to do what he said he would. Its not his fault that Congress has all the power (which it does, because that is what the Founding Fathers wanted) and they aren't into sharing.

5. All these people who say that we are intelligent and then say that Obama hasn't shown his birth certificate. You just called us idiots, because clearly there is NO process or anything. Come on, people use the brain that God/Allah/Buddha/Whomever gave you!

6. Because who cares if he is Muslim or not? Where in the constitution does it say he has to be a God-fearing Christian? Last I checked, it said nothing about that. And as far as that goes Thomas Jefferson was an Atheist. I don't hear anyone complaining about that.

7. I care about my rights as a woman. I'd like to get equal pay for equal work. I'd like to have access to Birth Control. I'd like to have the option to abort, if I have to.

8. Because I can't look at my friends and my family that are Homosexual and say "I'm sorry, but you don't deserve to be married, just because you are Homosexual. You don't deserve that happiness, even though you are another human being who wants Life, Love and the Pursuit of Happiness."

9. Because I am realistic to know that this country has been going down for much longer than he has been in the Oval Office and it will take longer than you and I will live to see it get better. We can't, realistically, expect him to undo 20 years of crap in four years. That's just not possible. For anyone.

10. Because I still believe in the Change. And I still believe he is a good man for the job.

Disagree if you like, say that I'm wrong. But if you really dig deep, really do your research and check your sources you'll see that I'm not that far off. I will admit to not being right all the time. I'm human and I make mistakes. Oh yeah, and Barack Obama is human too.

Sarai for Obama 2012.

All of Her: Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

I take a shower and throw my hair into a messy French braid. I slip into a sexy pair of underwear, but other than that I don't dress up. I skip the bra, opt for an old "Star Wars" t-shirt and a pair of my comfiest jeans. It won't take much to seduce him. I already have the perfect set-up. We've made out before. I gave him my number. I wonder who else I gave my number to that night? It doesn't matter. This will be easy.

I head to the beach and, for nostalgia's sake, I bring along the glow stick kites. I should ask Clark to come and fly kites with me again. I miss him. I miss Jahan. I miss David and Alice. I can't let myself miss them. I'm supposed to be heartless. Heartless people can't miss someone. Especially since it is their own fault that those people are gone.

When I get to the beach, I feel a delicious shiver crawl down my spine at the memories of the last time I was here. I think fondly of that first one night stand. Well, my only one night stand. As far as I know. Every time I've passed out drunk, I've woken up clothed and alone. Totally beside the point of course. I wonder if I'll ever run into that handsome fellow again.

Adam is easy to spot, besides the fact that he is the only one on the beach. He is gorgeous and trim, wearing a "SpongeBob" t-shirt and board shorts. He is also an Albino African-American man with the most beautiful eyes and long ivory dreadlocks, the tips of which are dyed a dark purple. He smiles at me and waves. He jogs up to me and I can't help but notice how fit he is. He glows in the moonlight, a shining pearl of a man. When he comes closer I can see that he is also quite tall. Standing a whole head higher than myself. How could I have forgotten him?

"Abra?" He asks, though I can tell that he knows its me.

"Adam?" I ask, winking. "Its nice to meet you when I'm not drunk."

He laughs, a deep and rich baritone laugh. He smiles again.

"To be fair, I was a little over the edge myself that night. I'm just glad you agreed to meet up with me."

"My pleasure, of course." We set up the blanket and he helps me bury the kite handles in the sand. After we are settled on the blanket, I pour us some Bailey's into a couple plastic cups. We touch them to each other and say cheers, before taking a healthy swig. I feel the alcohol warming every inch of me, until I feel like I am filled with sunshine. It makes sense in this context; I am the sun and he is the moon. I caress his arm and smile up at him.

I lean against him and we sit quietly for a little while, just watching the kites dancing. I don't really know what to say to him. I'd like to skip the awkward small talk and go directly to what we clearly both want, but I am unsure how to take that step.

"I've never done this before," I admit, looking up into his pale eyes. This isn't entirely true, but he doesn't need to know that.

"I suppose we are supposed to make small talk and call it a first date. Or we could just call it a date where we skip the small talk and go straight into the sex." He smiles at me and then kisses me on the lips. He tastes like the alcohol and something sweeter. I don't stop his hands from roaming. I don't stop him from pulling at my clothes.

He kisses me breathless. I kiss down his ivory neck and help him take off his shirt, revealing gorgeous muscles and creamy skin. I push him back, so that he is lying on the blanket, and I just look at him. He is so captivating. I don't think I've ever met someone as beautiful as he is.

I stop all together and a frustrated moan escapes his lips. I smile, wickedly.

"Don't you want to wait just a little longer?" I say. I realize that things are getting a little too repetitive for my tastes. I can't just hop from bed to bed, or in this case beach spot to beach spot. I need something to switch it up, change the feel of things.

"No," he moans, trying to pull me down on top of him. I oblige and straddle him, but refuse to move, though he tries to move my hips. I smile again and kiss him hard.

"Let's play a game." I say.

"What kind of game?" He asks. He looks aroused and intrigued.

"We don't sleep together tonight, but we do sleep together soon. If we wait until our second date, I promise it will be worth your while. Whatever fantasy you have, I promise to fulfill it on our second date, if you agree that we don't have sex tonight."

He raises one white eyebrow and looks at me quizzically.

"Any fantasy?" He asks, skeptically.

"Any." I say and kiss him again. He moans, but he doesn't try to change my mind.

"So what do you suggest we do tonight then?" He asks. He sits up so that I am in his lap and my legs are wrapped around his waist. He holds me close like this and rests his forehead against mine.

"Be my boyfriend and I'll tell you." I say, winking and kissing his nose. He smiles and kisses my eyes.

"Okay, I'm game. I haven't had a steady girlfriend in a few months."

"Well, lover, let's go back to my place and I'll fix us a late dinner." I kiss him again. And again.

"A very late dinner." he says, glancing at his watch. "What are we going to have?"

"What do you like?" I say.

"Just about anything really. I'm not picky." He has lifted up my shirt and he kisses the place between my breasts. He lightly drags his teeth across my chest and I shiver. I feel him move under me.

"Stop." I say, giggling. "Next time, I promise."

He sighs and we disentangle ourselves. We gather up the blanket, the bottle of Bailey's and the kites. He follows me back to my place in his beat up Ford.

Once we are back at my place I begin to fix us something to eat. I fry up some green tomatoes, some turkey bacon and toast several slices of thick homemade potato bread. Once these things are done I melt some provolone cheese onto the bread and add some crisp romaine lettuce. I haven't made "fancy" BLT's, as I call them, since David moved out. I put a very thin layer of honey mustard on mine and a thin layer of regular mayo on Adam's. With the sandwiches, I serve some sweet potato French fries and a small slice of store bought chocolate pie.

I pour us a couple glasses of coconut milk and set the coffee table in front of the couch. Once everything is laid out, I turn on some music and light a couple small candles. I turn out all the lights and then lead Adam to the coffee table where we sit cross-legged across from each other.

"What do you think?" I ask, after he takes a big bite of his sandwich. He smiles while he chews and nods.

"It delicious." He says, once he has swallowed. "Where did you learn this recipe?"

"I made it up." I say, munching on a sweet potato fry. "My ex was tired of the same old, same old. So I started trying to think of things he'd like."

"And he still left you, knowing you could cook like this?" He looks surprised that anyone would leave me on purpose.

"I'm sure his wife can cook just as well as I can. I don't cook very often anymore though. I usually go out to eat."

"Do you miss him?" He asks, putting his sandwich down and looking at me intently.

"Some days, yes. When I wake up alone in the mornings, or when I am doing something that we used to do. On days like that, I miss him more than I could explain."

He nods and takes another bite of his sandwich. I am glad that he doesn't say anything to comfort me. I've had my fill of empty words of sympathy. He does look at me with a sad understanding in his eyes and, every once in a while, he will reach out and stroke my cheek. We enjoy our dinner and then play a game of Scrabble. He beats me, twice. We wash the dishes together and he wipes soap suds all over my face. We laugh and then slow dance in my dining room to a sad Japanese song.

At the end of our evening together, I thank him for everything and give him a kiss goodbye.

"When can I see you again?" he asks.

"Whenever you want to." I say, smiling. For the first time, its a genuine smile. I haven't felt this good since I was with Clark.

"What about my fantasy?" He says, winking at me.

"What do you want?" I ask, leaning against the wall next to the door.

"You dressed up as Princess Leia and me as Han Solo." He looks pointedly at my t-shirt and then back up at my face.

"Leia as Jabba's slave? Or just regular cinnamon roll hair style Leia?" I say, laughing.

"Jabba's slave. Metal bikinis are so sexy, don't you think?" He winks again, kisses me again and waves as he heads down the stairs to the parking lot. I lean against the doorframe and watch him drive off. He waves out the window of his car at me.

I sigh as I close the door. I keep finding nice, understanding, guys who make me wish I could just settle down with them. Maybe I should start trying to pick up jerks? I ponder this as I slip into some fuzzy pajama bottoms and another old t-shirt. I slip into bed, Snuggles jumping up and then curling up beside me.

As I fall asleep, I try to think of where I can go to find a Princess Leia slave girl outfit.

After work I begin my quest to fulfill Adam's fantasy. The outfit turns out to be less difficult to find than I originally thought. I go to the "Theatrics and Time Trips" store downtown where I am able to find the exact outfit for relatively cheap. All the guys in the store look as though they are about to drool as they watch me go to the dressing room to try it on. I laugh, inwardly, at how many of these guys I could get to sleep with me just by stepping out of the dressing room. They all watch as I go up to purchase the outfit and the cashier can barely stammer out my total.

I don't travel far, however. I go to the "Garden of Eden" adult store, down the street, and purchase a collar and chains to complete the outfit. The only thing left to do is style my hair, which I'll wait to do until I have heard from Adam. If he is a typical man, he will wait three or four days to call me. Savoring the sweet agony of waiting. Or, if he can't stand the waiting he'll call me tonight or tomorrow.

On cue, as I am driving home, he calls me.

"Can I see you tonight?" he asks. I can hear the excitement in his voice.

"But I haven't gotten the outfit yet!" I lie, smiling at myself in the rearview mirror.

"You couldn't find one so that we could meet up later?"

"Well, I suppose I might be able to. What time do you want to meet up?" I enjoy dragging it out a little bit.

"Ten like we did last night, if that works for you."

"I suppose that will be alright." I say, sounding a little put out.

"If that doesn't work I can wait until tomorrow, I suppose. I'm just so excited to see you, girl."

I giggle at the wheedling tone in his voice. I am truly wicked. I would never have made David wait, unless I was sick and sometimes not even then. But I have entered a new world where sex can be used as a weapon and I am the one wielding the proverbial whip.

"Well, if you truly don't care, let's wait until tomorrow. I need time to perfect the hairstyle and find a costume." I can hear him suppressing a moan, but he doesn't argue.

"If you want, I can bring dinner." He says. "I'd hate to make you work too hard."

"That would be lovely. I promise to be the perfect slave girl for you."

We don't talk much longer before I arrive home. I carry in my parcels and go into the bathroom to start on my Leia hairstyle. Once I think I have it, I pop in "Return of the Jedi", my favorite out of the original trilogy, and make some popcorn. I curl up on the sofa and lust after Luke and Leia.

I realize, with excited anticipation, I've never done anything like this before. I never dressed up for David. He could never stand for me to be clothed long enough to have dressed up. Clark never expressed any desire for me to play act, either. As to Jahan, she was new to sex as it was, without adding any extra kink to it. I find that I am just as excited by the prospect as I imagine Adam is.

To ease my excited energy, I do several loads of laundry and clean the apartment. I want everything to be perfect for him. I fix some lemon pepper salmon, a small vanilla mocha tiramisu and an artichoke and spinach salad, which I pack up to be re-heated tomorrow. I download the soundtrack to "Star Wars", the original trilogy, to a CD, and make it easily accessible.

With everything prepared I take a bath in rose water and oatmeal. I give myself a manicure/pedicure and I wear an avocado mask to bed. In the morning I wash my face and fix the little spots where my hair came out of its styling during the night. I have a light breakfast of poached eggs and toast. I go to work, feeling a little silly with my hair in Leia fashion, but it can't be helped. It would take to long to fix it after work.

On my lunch hour I call Adam and we agree to meet at my place around seven. When he mentions bringing dinner I tell him that I've already taken care of it. The only thing I ask of him is to come dressed for the part.

Everything is ready when I get home, except for me. I spritz a little sweet perfume all over my body before changing into the outfit. I warm up dinner, turn on the music and complete a few finishing touches. At seven, I am ready for Adam in every sense of the word. I am so excited I feel as though I will jump out of my skin.

I look at the clock at eight and wonder where the hell he is. This is his fantasy, shouldn't he be on time? Or maybe this is part of the fantasy he didn't share?

At nine, I begin to worry, thinking maybe he has been in some sort of accident. I text him, but receive no reply. I try calling, but only get his voicemail.

At ten, I begin to get angry. He could at least have called and told me something else came up. He could've at least done that much. Unless he was in a really bad accident. My feelings switch between anger and worry for this man I've been dating for three days.

At eleven, I give up and put the food back in the fridge. I turn off the music, change out of my outfit and take down my hair. I clean everything up from when I was warming the food and I put away the chains and costume.

At midnight, I fall asleep on the couch; torn between being furious and worried.

At one, I wake up to knocking on my door. Sleepily, I rub my eyes and stumble to the door. I look through the peephole and see Adam leaning against the door with his head down. I can't tell if he is in costume or not. I almost don't open the door, but I am angry enough to want to confront him. I fling the door open so that he stumbles and almost falls into the apartment. As soon as he falls past me I can smell the alcohol on him.

"Where the hell have you been?" I demand, shutting the door.

"I've been waiting to rescue the fair princess." He says, drunkenly. He stumbles and lands face first on the couch. He is dressed in full Han Solo regalia. I stifle the urge to laugh at him. He makes such a comic picture dressed like that and drunker than Winston Churchill. However, I don't know what he is like drunk and the last thing I want is him becoming violent.

"Adam, we were supposed to meet up at seven! It's one in the morning now. Where have you been?"

"I was out with friends." he says, attempting to lift himself off the couch and failing miserably. I help him sit up. When he is upright I see lipstick all over his shirt and his face. On his neck is a mark like a hickey. I suddenly reach a new level of infuriated.

"I have been waiting for you for six hours to fulfill your fantasy and you were out with another woman?"

"Women." He corrects. The man has balls, I'll give him that. I could kill him. I'm surprised that it actually hurts my feelings that he was off cheating on me.

"And were they worth it?" I ask.

"I tried to get away, Abra, I really did." he says, pitifully. Without warning he bursts into tears and is on the floor clinging to my leg. "I'm so sorry, please forgive me. Don't leave me. I couldn't stand it."

"Get off of me." I say, shaking my leg. "You should've thought about all that before you went out with your 'friends'."

He stands up and kisses me sloppily. I pull away and he grabs my arms, pulling me closer to him. He tries to kiss me again, but I move my head so that he grazes my ear. He starts pulling at my clothes and I slap him. This seems to sober him for a moment and he collapses on the couch and begins to sob in earnest.

"Please, Abra, give me a second chance. I promise, it won't happen again. I promise to be faithful. Please, I don't think I can go on if I'm alone again."

"You made your choice, Adam. It's obvious that you weren't actually interested in pursuing a relationship with me or this so-called fantasy. Did you do this just to humiliate me?"

"No, I swear, that wasn't it at all. I promise that I really wanted it. I still do. Please, just give me a second chance."

"I can't believe you are asking me to give you a second chance when you have just shown your true colors. We've been together three days and you couldn't keep yourself from finding another source of company."

With a jarring motion, he comes to his feet and goes toward the kitchen. I follow him asking what he thinks he is doing. He grabs a knife from the drawer and jerks it across his wrist. With a stifled scream I try to grab the knife from his hands, throwing my body between him and the knife. He tries to push me out of the way and makes another stab at himself. I intercept it and receive a small slice on my hand. When the blood pools up, he drops the knife and falls to his knees. I kneel down with him and tear a strip off of my shirt to wrap around his wrist.

The cut isn't deep and quickly the wound begins to scab. Not taking any chances I cleanse it with rubbing alcohol and triple anti-biotic ointment. I then wrap it up and lead him back into the living room. I have put a band-aid on my own cut and we sit very quietly on the couch, his hands in mine.

"Don't ever do that again." I say, quietly. Even I'm not sure which incident I am talking about, but I'd prefer that none of this happen again. He doesn't say anything, just nods. He rests his head on my shoulder and I hum a lullaby to him. It is now two in the morning and I am physically and mentally exhausted. I stand up and I wince when I see him flinch as though I were going to hit him. I hold out my hand to him and pull him up when he takes it.

We go to my room where I help him out of his ruined Han Solo outfit and into a t-shirt and shorts that David left behind and I couldn't stand to get rid of. I put his clothes into the washer and when I come back he is fast asleep. I crawl into bed next to him and sigh heavily.

This is going to be an interesting relationship, though I am sure interesting isn't the right word for it.

All of Her: Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

I go out to brunch with Noah, though I'd rather stay home and sleep. Even though I'd rather wallow in my own misery with no outside interruptions. Even though I'd rather do anything else in the world right now. It would be rude to ignore an invitation for brunch from my bestest best gay guy friend. Who puts up with all my bullshit. And my self-destruction.

Speaking of, maybe it is a good idea to be out and about. I could pick up another stranger; drag myself down further. There is a world of endless possibilities out there and I am stuck in first gear.

At least he seems to be much happier than we were the other night. If he remembers it, he shows no outward signs. I don't blame him for wanting to block it out, if that is what he is doing. It could just be that he was ridiculously drunk has no memory of anything other than waking up in bed with me.

"You look down this morning. What's up?" he says.

"Nothing really, just frustrated is all." I say.

He nods and orders a white chocolate mocha frappuccino and a pretzel bread sandwich. He smiles at me while I order a green tea chai and a wild strawberry and spinach salad. We sit in comfortable silence for a short time before he speaks again.

"I was thinking. You really need to start taking your own advice. And taking my advice." He takes a sip of his drink. I already know what is getting ready to come.

"Look, Noah, I appreciate what you are trying to do. But you know you aren't going to dissuade me. I'm too stubborn for that. Why can't we just enjoy a nice brunch before I have to face any consequences for my actions?" I sip my beverage and take a big bite of my salad. I already know what he wants to say. I am too tired to deal with a lecture.

"Why do you never want to face what is going on? You can't continue to live your life in the dark, pretending there is no such thing as light. You have to face the facts eventually."

"But I don't right now. Not unless you try to force me too. Which seems to be your intention. And if that is the only reason you wanted to have brunch, I'll leave now and save your breath. I guarantee that if you try now, the effort will be wasted." I take another bite of my salad and calmly signal the waitress.

"Don't be a child, Abe." he says.

"Yes, I'd like a to-go box for the rest of this please. As well as the check."

"Come on, Abra."

"Separate checks, please." I pull my wallet out of my purse and begin counting out the money for my portion of the bill. I even pull out a little extra for the tip, though our waitress didn't get to wait on us for very long.

"Abra, seriously, knock it off. You are a grown woman, act like one!" I stop and look at him. He is red in the face, trying to control a burst of temper. He has always been tempestuous. Such a lovely face, he has. I reach across the table and pat his cheek.

"Sorry, darling. I am a grown woman and I can, therefore, make my own decisions, be they wrong or right. I am going to do as I please, you know that. You can't stop me. You have tried, valiantly in fact. You have given it your best effort, now let it go. Let it drop before you have an aneurysm over it." I stand up and grab my things, making for the door. He grabs my arm and pulls me toward him. I do not face him, letting him hold my arm behind me, my back facing him.

"Abra, I can't give it up. I care about you, please. Please, just stop before its too late." I don't turn, but I can hear the sadness in his voice. There is sadness in my own as I pull my arm away.

"Its already too late." I don't look back as I walk out the door.

I walk home to my empty apartment. I lock the door behind me and sit on the couch. Snuggles comes up and meows at me. I reach down to pet him and end up pulling him up next to me. Its too early in the day to go to the bar, which I fully intend to do, so Snuggles and I watch a movie. I finish my salad and my drink from the restaurant. I unplug my phone and power off my cell. I don't feel like talking to anyone and I know Noah is going to try call eventually. He always does.

I play around on my computer and listen to music. I have changed so much, God and the saints can't help me now. All of the ropes holding me back have been undone. I wish David could see just what he's done to me. What I've done to myself because of him. He wouldn't care, I know he wouldn't. I wish he would. I wish he'd see just what a mess he's made. I wish Alice would see it and feel ashamed. I wish they would both beg for forgiveness.

It wouldn't matter if they did, though. I would deny it. I could never forgive them. I wish them all the unhappiness I have felt since that day in the church. Since I discovered the truth behind all the lies. I'm spending so much energy being angry I can't see what I'm really doing to myself and to my friends, to my family.

As the day wears on, I begin to get ready for a night out. I'm going back to "Alice's Wonderland" and maybe I'll find some other stranger to seduce. Maybe I'll find that cute Korean again and bring him home with me. Endless possibilities lie before me.

I don't dress with as much care as I did the last time. I put in a pair of sparkly earrings, a shimmering lipstick and glitter mascara. I put on my favorite pair of bright white jeans and a rhinestone encrusted blouse. I slip into a pair of bejeweled flats and decorate my arms with shiny metal bracelets. Tonight I intend to shine under those bright lights. For better or worse, I will make a lasting impression.

I pick out a sequined clutch before kissing Snuggles goodbye and heading out the door. I hail a taxi and arrive just as the club comes alive. I am filled with pleasure as I enter and see the cute Korean gentleman from last time. I am filled with even more delight as all eyes look at me, sparkling and radiant in the darkness. The girls look at me jealously and the men admiringly. Even he stops and stares at me. I wonder if he recognizes me. I feel like Cinderella as I head toward the bar.

I find myself in a bit of a pickle as I realize that I have completely forgotten the cute Korean's name. Damn. He heads my way, almost as soon as I sit down at the bar. I watch with growing anticipation and nerves. Why can't I think of his name? It was a one syllable name! How difficult can it be to remember?

He sits next to me and hands his card to the bartender.

"How are you?" he asks.

"Well, and you?" We have to practically shout as the music pumps through the speakers. I smile, my most flirty smile and take a sip of a drink. I don't even know what I'm drinking, its just a drink that the bartender handed me.

"Much better now that you are here." He winks and orders a drink for us. I laugh because I haven't even finished the freebie the bartender handed me.

We drink for a little bit before heading to the dance floor. I love the way he dances, all over me and so much more than just the arm dancing that so many other guys do. I sway against him and dip down. I don't know how long we dance, but he is the only one I dance with all night.

We take a break and I get more to drink. I drink until I know that I will forget half the night. I hope I forget everything. After my seventh Cherry Pomegranate margarita, I dance some more. Well, I think I'm dancing. In reality, however, I am falling gracefully. I give up after a little bit and head back over to the bar. I sit down and drain another glass of alcohol.

"Baby, you're lookin' fine! I'll have you open all night like you're I-HOP." says a voice behind me. I turn around to see a guy about my age trying to pick me up. I'm drunk, but I'm not quite drunk enough to be impressed with that line. Especially since he just stole it from the song that is blaring through the speakers currently.

"Excuse me?" I say, an eyebrow raised.

"Is it full of myself to want you full of me?" He tries to slip a hand up my thigh.

"I think I've had my fill, actually." With that quip, I get up to go back to the dance floor. He grabs my arm in a hard grip, turning me to look at him. If not for the bad pick up line and the current abuse to my arm I probably would be a little more interested. However, at this point I am very annoyed and getting to the point of kneeing him in the balls.

"I didn't say you could leave," He says. His face is close to mine like we are going to kiss. His breath smells like liver and onions. Speaking of liver, he has some stuck between his teeth.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that I needed your permission." I say and yank my arm out of his grip. I begin to walk away again, this time toward the door. I hear jerk-face following behind me. This isn't going to be good.

He grabs me again and shakes me a little. That's when my handsome gentleman comes up.

"Is there a problem?" He asks, very politely. He looks at me and completely ignores the brute trying to force me to go with him.

"Fuck off, asshole." says the brute.

"Where do you think you're going with my girlfriend?" asks my handsome gentleman. I am almost too drunk to catch what he just said. However, I'm not stupid and I play along.

"This bitch is your girlfriend?" laughs the bully. He seems to think that no one would want to date a gorgeous Korean guy. How could I prefer anyone but him?

"Yes. And I'd prefer that you not call her a bitch or we may have a problem." The brute loosens his grip on my arm and focuses on my defender. Out of nowhere he takes a swing at him and my hero ducks just in time. When he comes back up he decks the brute in his face and a full out brawl begins. Once the bouncers have pulled them apart the brute has a broken nose and is bawling like a baby. My hero has a busted lip, but little else. I grab a napkin, go to him and gently press it to his lip. He winces, but he smiles at me.

"Let's go," I say. He nods and we leave the brute lying on the floor howling in rage. We hail a taxi and go back to my place, where I provide him with an ice pack for his lip.

"Thanks," he says, pressing it gently to his mouth.

"No, thank you for defending me against that jerk. I really appreciate it." I go to the cabinet and bring out a bottle of Bailey's and beginning drinking again. I'm drunk, but not completely wasted yet. I need to be after that excitement.

"Why are you so hell-bent on being drunk?" he asks, trying to take the bottle from me.

"Because I can't stand who I am otherwise." I say simply. I'm rather honest when I'm drunk. "I don't want to remember any of this in the morning. I just want to be so hung-over I stay in bed all day."

"What about you can't you stand?" he asks.

"Everything now. I used to be someone I admired. Now I'm just a whore and a godforsaken drunk." I take another gulp of my drink.

"You aren't a whore." he says. However, it is no use defending me against myself. Especially since I'm drunk.

"You don't know that. You don't even know me. I could seduce you right now and prove it."

"You couldn't seduce me, unless I wanted to be seduced. And I may not know you well, but I can sense things about people."

"What are you psychic?" I say, nastily.

"No. I just know that a whore wouldn't hesitate before going into a club. I know that a whore would've taken the first guy up as soon as he showed up. A whore wouldn't have hesitated to take that asshole's bait."

"It was a horrible pick up line."

"You are too picky to be a whore, then."

"Shut up!" I say. "You still know nothing about me."

"No, I don't. But I'd like to."

"No you don't. You just want to get in my pants. Which is fine, I'd like to see what you are working with myself. So just drop the act, skip the foreplay and let's go."

"I'm serious, I'd like to get to know you. Not so I can have sex with you. Not for any fake reasoning. I truly, honestly, want to get to know you. The real you. Not the one who claims to be a 'whore and a godforsaken drunk'."

"I'm an accountant. I work at a book store. I have a best gay friend. My ex-fiancé left me waiting at the church on our wedding day for my ex-best friend. That is all there is to know."

"That's not all there is to you, but its a start." He smiles a lopsided smile, his swollen lip impeding a full smile. I don't smile. I drink some more. He tries to get me to talk some more, but I refuse and after it becomes apparent that we aren't going to do anything but sit while I drink he gets up to leave. I stand, unsteady, and wobble over to the door. He kisses my cheek and I slam the door behind him.

There is really no reason that I should be mad at him. I'm not actually mad, I suppose. My night has just gone all to hell and I still feel like I'm not drunk enough to survive it. I pass out on the couch, my bottle of Bailey's in my hand.

I wake up, sixteen hours later, to a knock on my door. My head feels like it is full of cotton and my mouth tastes like an old gym shoe. My body aches from sleeping half off the couch for so long. I have to pee, really bad. I stumble to my feet and wince. Everything screams at me and the knocking produces a pounding in my cotton ball brain.

"Abra!" says a voice on the other side of the door. It sounds more muffled than it should to my addled head.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." I murmur and slowly shuffle toward the door. I don't unhook the chain, which I don't remember putting on last night, and crack the door to see who it is.

However, it is all in my head, because there is no one at the door. I'm losing my mind, I think. I stumble towards the bathroom as fast as I can, before I make a puddle on the floor. I make it in time, but I hear a knocking on the door again.

"You've got to be kidding me." I say. I flush and wash my hands, taking my time to the door. I have no idea who it could be. I glance at the clock and see that it is a little after seven. What the hell happened last night? I vaguely remember a fight or something. I remember drinking myself to sleep.

"Abra!" says the voice on the other side of the door.

"I'm coming, keep your pants on!" I shout. I unchain the door and yank it open. "What?"

I startle Noah, mid-knock. He holds his nose as he walks by me into the apartment.

"You reek of alcohol, Abe. What the hell have you been doing? Bathing in it?"

"No, I just had a few drinks last night." I pull my shirt up to sniff it and then hold my nose too. I do reek.

"I've been trying to call you all day. You didn't go to work, your Mom didn't know where you were. I was beginning to think something horrible had happened."

"You called my mom? Why would you do that? Now she is going to worry about me." I plop back down on the sofa.

"She's already worried about you. You haven't been going to work. You haven't been going anywhere but the bar. You are going to get fired, Abe."

"I can take care of myself, Noah. I'm fine."

"I hope so, Abra. I would hate for you to lose everything you've worked so hard for because of this stupid quest you are on to ruin yourself."

"I'm fine, Noah. I'm not going to lose my job. I haven't missed a day in three years, I'm sure missing a couple days isn't going to ruin my career. Go home, so I can take a shower."

He kisses my cheek and goes to the door.

"Be careful, Abra." With that, he closes the door and I am alone again.

I go plug in my phone and power up my cell. I never turned them back on, which is why I didn't hear the phone ringing. I have twelve missed calls. Two from my mother, two from Anna, three from Kevin, one from a number I don't recognize and four from Noah.

I have a couple voice messages as well, which I listen to. One of which is from the number I didn't recognize.

"Hey, this is Adam. We met at the bar the other night and I was just calling to see if you'd like to go out to dinner sometime. Hit me up, if you're interested."

I don't remember giving out my number to anyone. But it can't hurt to call him back. After all, I am on a "stupid quest" to ruin myself. I don't listen to any of the other messages, because I know what they'll say and call the number back.

"This is Adam." says the voice from my message.

"Hey, Adam. This is Abra. You called and left me a message. Apparently we met at the bar the other night?"

"Oh hey! Yeah, we did. Don't you remember? We made out for a little while and you gave me your number."

"Oh. Of course I remember. I was just checking to see if you remembered." I am totally bluffing, I have no idea what he is talking about.

"Well, I just wanted to see if you'd like to go out sometime. I mean, if you want to that is."

"I'd love to. Would you like to meet up tonight?"

"Absolutely. Where do you want to meet up?"

"How about the beach?"

We agree to meet at ten at the beach. I will bring my blanket, a few condoms and what is left of my Bailey's. Maybe tonight, I'll get lucky.

All of Her: Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

I skip out on work to go and sing "Christmas in July" karaoke at the gay bar. I, along with sixty other queens, dress up to sing "Santa Baby" while twirling around a candy cane striped pole. I've always thought of going, but never would before. Being self-destructive for stupid reasons seems to free a lot of things. Including my inner wild child, "Santa Baby" singing, stripper pole hugging slut.

I have been doing a lot of things that I wouldn't normally do. The break-up with Jahan has hit me a lot harder than I ever thought it would. Should I be surprised? Probably not. I know that I feel this way because of the guilt. The notice of her intended marriage was in the paper last week. The young man she is marrying seemed very nice looking in the picture. Though I could only see her eyes, her whole demeanor gave truth to her misery. I kept the picture and hid it away in my chest of drawers next to the poems she had written and the poem from Jahan Khatun she had borrowed. Cherished small mementos of our time together hidden away from sight.

Going to karaoke is one of the many things I have tried, including moping about the house listening to music. I still have yet to find a song for her. Of course I don't think there is a song to quite fit this situation. It probably doesn't help that I keep thinking about things from her point of view. It hurts to think about how much she hates me now. It hurts even more to acknowledge that it is my own fault that she does. I didn't have to sleep with David. I didn't have to end it the way I did. There are no time machines for me to fix my mistakes. Nothing to gain those moments again, so I will just have to move on.

I patiently wait for my turn on the pole, lounging at the bar. A couple of cute girls wink at me and make kissing expressions, but I mostly ignore them. I am waiting for Noah to show up. At the last minute I called him to come and sing with me. I was pleasantly surprised when he said yes. He has been very reclusive recently, a little down. I'm not entirely sure what is going on, but I think I have an idea. He hasn't mentioned his hunky boyfriend in a week.

When he comes in I'm a little startled by how bad he looks. Normally he is so clean cut and crisp in the way he dresses. Today he looks like he hasn't shaved, his light brown hair is bedraggled and his John Lennon glasses aren't even on straight.

"Honey, what the hell happened to you? You look like you got into a fight with your bed!" I say, attempting to not fall off of my bar stool and trip over my too tall hooker shoes.

"We broke up." He says simply. Then he orders a strong, multicolored, drink.

"What happened? I thought you guys were doing really well."

"He just doesn't want me anymore. I'm not who and what he wants me to be in, so I'm not what he wants." I rub his back as a few tears slip into his drink. He downs his drink in a couple gulps before ordering another.

"Shouldn't you take it slow, honey? Maybe you should go home. Watch a movie, eat some ice cream."

"I don't want to go home. I'll be alone when I get there and it will still smell like him. And you are one to talk about taking things slow. The once wholesome girl slutting it up over a douchebag and a bitch." He chugs his drink and orders another. He is right, but the he says it stings. He's never been so outright cruel about what I'm doing. I shouldn't talk, but it is one thing for me to be self-destructive. If he is self-destructive too, who will be my moral compass when I finally escape this hurricane's eye?

Instead of saying anything else, words are useless in these situations, I order a drink too. If he is going to be trashed, so am I. I match him, drink for drink, until we are both ridiculously drunk. We have the bartender, a sweet girl with a nice rack, call us a cab. When the cab arrives, Noah has to help me out because I can't stand up right in my hooker heels. We stumble in and without warning we are making out.

It seems so natural, as the cab takes us back toward my apartment, that we be completely engrossed in kissing and caressing. We don't stop kissing as we stumble out of the cab or stumble up the stairs. We stop for a moment so I can unlock the door and the whole time he is touching and exploring. I get the door open and we practically fall into the apartment.

He shuts the door behind us, a look of pure lust on his face and he kisses me again. We stumble towards my room. We lose our clothes as we go, lost in sensations that you only feel when you are drunk and utterly lonely.

We collapse on the bed, entangled. Everything smells like sweat and alcohol breath, kisses and the beginning of sex. We are completely naked and almost in a practical position. He has somehow managed to pull on a condom in our drunken revelry. Then he is on top of me, in-between my legs, kissing me and pressed against me. It feels so wonderful, dream-like even.

Suddenly, I feel him softening, no longer pressed to me. He actually looks a little horrified. He has just realized, through the drunken haze, that he is about to have sex with a woman. This was a bad idea. This was an awful idea. I start to cry.

"No, no. Don't cry." he whispers, pulling off the condom. He switches positions and kisses me again. I feel like I have dived headlong into a barrel of needles. All of which are stuck in my chest.

"I knew you weren't attracted to me. I knew and I still thought this would happen." I wipe away a stray tear. I am almost into a full crying jag and sobering faster than I'd like to. I don't know what we were thinking, making out in the cab. Coming up here and acting like we would actually ever have sex. We were too drunk to think.

"Don't you see," he says, wiping away another tear. "that isn't true at all. It almost happened because I am attracted to you. I am attracted to your personality, to your intellect and your pretty face. I'm attracted to your mind, when you choose to use it that is. I am friends with you because of that attraction. I have always been drawn to who you are. I can be attracted to you in a way that isn't sexual. Besides, sex scenes like this only happen in bad Madonna movies."

He kisses me again and holds me closely. I realize, in my tiny moments of reasonable sobriety, that I wouldn't have wanted to have sex with Noah. It could ruin the one friendship I would die without. And it isn't who we are at all. Not who he is, anyway. A one night stand with a gay man is not worth the loss of a friendship. And seducing said gay man isn't part of the plan.

Shyly, we look away so that we can get dressed again. We do sleep in my bed together, snuggled up. Its hard to sleep alone after you've been sleeping with another person for so long. I don't think I've quite gotten used to it yet. I barely remember what it was like to sleep alone. Knowing that tomorrow we are probably going to feel a little awkward around each other for a little bit, I snuggle closer to take advantage of the moment.

I wake up alone. A sweet note from Noah is lying on the counter as I go into the kitchen for some coffee. My head is pounding and my eyes are bleary from drinking. I read the note and smile. He says he loves me and that he is happy we didn't do anything we probably would've regretted later.

I get dressed for another day and even manage to go out for a little while. In the evening, I gather up my glow stick kites and head to the beach. I need some me time. A break from all my self-destruction to just watch the waves lapping at the shore and the kites dancing on the breeze. I drive slowly, taking in the dazzling sunset and the smell of the world around me.

As part of my drive, I pass through downtown with all its bright lights and its gypsy colors. I have always loved the smell of downtown. So many different restaurants and so many people. It is a carnival for the senses, really. And I drink it in until I feel a little woozy.

The crowds are leaving the beach as I arrive. I watch as a young couple kisses and hold hands all the way back to their car. I sigh, wistfully. I wonder what their life will be like. Will they last? Will they break up or divorce? Will they have children? Will they always love each other? I suppose only time and whatever supreme being governs the universe know.

I sit, for a short time, watching the last of the fiery sun slipping below the horizon. With a heavy heart and a few kites, I head down to the beach. Etched in the sand, just out of reach of the water, is heart with two initials. I think of the young couple holding hands as they walked to their car and smile again.

Just a little way from where I usually set up the kites is a young man, about my age, smoking a cigarette. He is seated with his knees pulled up and his arms resting across the top. It isn't cold, but he is wearing a sweatshirt with a hood. Beside him is a portable radio playing Frank Sinatra. I smile at him and tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. He smiles and raises a hand in greeting.

I turn and look at my outfit. Jeans and an old "Batman" t-shirt. Bitterly, I wish I had worn something different, something sexier. However, I have to work with what I have. Plenty of women have gotten men while wearing worse, I'm sure. Besides, he's a guy, if he doesn't like Batman I'm going to have to ask for his man-card. Wait, I'm a girl. Can I even do that? I shake my head and put on a game face of some sort.

I plant my glowing kites and spread out my blanket on the sand. I try to look as sexy as possible while I am doing this, but it is hard when I'm trying not to fling sand in my face. I glance his way and see him staring at the kites. I follow his gaze to the candy colored dancers.

This is the first time I've gone kite flying without Clark. I realize this with a little throb of loneliness. I shouldn't be trying to get a random stranger on the beach. God knows what kinds of diseases I could pick up. Or I could end up raped and dead, my kites uprooting from their places and flying away. I can't help it though. I really need to step it up. If I'm going to slut it up, I need to go all the way with it. No more dancing around it.

Besides that, I'm still a little horny from my almost encounter of the sexy kind with Noah.

Timidly, I go up to him and ask if I can bum a cigarette. He smiles and hands me one. I've never smoked in my life so I'm not sure what the hell I'm doing, but here goes nothing. I try to place it seductively between my lips and lean into him for a light. I suck a little smoke into my mouth, without pulling it into my lungs, and slowly exhale. It tastes pretty awful, actually and I have no clue what to do from here.

"That's a neat idea." He says, pointing toward the kites. "Did you think of it?"

I nod and pull a little more smoke into my mouth. I think I may get the hang of this quicker than I thought. Just have to remember not to actually breathe it or I'll choke.

We are quiet for a little bit. He takes a drag off of his cigarette and I take a pull off of mine. I want to say something, but am unsure of what to say. So I use body language to say it all. I lean into him again, brushing my hand against his leg. I do it so as to seem accidental and, when I catch his eye, I blush to add a grain of truth to it. It is awkward for a few more minutes, until I almost can't stand it.

"You're pretty cute, you know." He says, taking another drag off his cigarette.

"Thank you. You're pretty cute yourself." I smile my best sexy smile and scoot a little closer to him. Out of the blue, he puts his arm around my shoulders and leaves it there for a minute. I think he does this to see if I'll stop him. I obviously don't. In fact I scoot closer into him, with his arm around me.

"You're very forward." He whispers, nipping my earlobe. "I like that in a girl."

I don't say anything, just give him a saucy smile and a wink. I glance toward my blanket and then back at him. I press myself closer to him and use my lips to caress his cheek. I can see that my behaviour is exciting to him, so I try harder. I nibble on his ear and then kiss down his neck.

"I have a blanket, if you have the protection." I whisper, running my fingertips up the inside of his leg, stopping just before I reach anything incredibly important. With another wink I stand up and begin strutting my way back to the blanket and kites. He stands up to follow me, moving a little awkwardly. I giggle to myself and pull off my shirt, revealing my purple bra.

As he walks toward me, I have time to observe his build and other things about him. His hair is a lovely shade of blonde and he is fairly muscular. He pulls off his sweatshirt to reveal six-pack abs with a soft blonde patch leading toward bigger and better things. Emphasis on the bigger. He comes up to me, both of us shirtless, and he kisses me. We taste like cigarettes, but I don't care.

He unhooks my bra, expertly, and I let it drop to the blanket. He takes a moment to explore, before tugging at my jeans. We both step out of our bottoms and lie down on the blanket. He pulls a condom out of his shorts pocket and gives me a quirky smile. I notice his light blue eyes light up when he smiles and I smile too. He kisses me again and for a moment I feel a blind panic. I am about to have sex with a complete stranger. Someone whose name I don't even know. Can I really go through with this?

I feel him move into me and realize its too late. I am going through with it now. I have to. He is gentle and sweet, I find that I am actually enjoying myself. Just over his shoulder I can see the moon and my kites dipping and soaring. I dip and soar with them. His radio is still playing. Everything seems so strange from where I am lying. I look into his face and he smiles again. He kisses me and then nibbles at my neck, my ears and further down. He doesn't ask what I like and I don't ask what he likes. We work instinctively and are rather satisfied with the results.

We end up spending several hours on the beach. Hardly any of that time is spent watching the kites dance. After we finish, again, we have another cigarette. It is late and soon the sun will rise, we've spent almost the whole night here. We kiss goodbye, the only parting we give and I begin to pack up my blanket and kites. He grabs his radio, his clothes and our trash. Before anyone else arrives, he is gone. A one night stand faded into darkness before morning comes.

Once my kites are all packed into the car, I decide that I want to stay and watch the sunrise. I grab my blanket and make my way back down to the beach. I find a decent spot just down from where I spent my night and I set up there. I watch as the sun is born and a notice that there is tear slipping down my cheek. I pull my knees up, wrap my arms around them and rest my cheek on my knee. Its so lonely, where I am right now. I've ruined one person's life in my quest to ruin my own. I almost ruined a beautiful friendship too.

To prove to myself that I am a whore I have slept with a random stranger I ran into at the beach. I don't have to look at the blanket I am sitting on for the evidence of it. I can still feel the experience. Its really stupid, this downward spiral. From the outside I can see that. But now I can't stop. I feel so completely worthless right now.

I don't cry, though. I refuse to. I pull myself together and grab my blanket. I drive home and go straight to bed. I am too tired to do anything but undress and then I am far away from here. Snuggles comes to sleep with me and we curl up under the covers.

I don't wake up until noon when my phone rings. I answer, even though I am half asleep.

"Hello?" I murmur.

"Are you still asleep? Its noon!" says a voice I don't recognize off hand.

"Who is this?" I ask, trying to wipe the sleeping dust out of my eyes.

"Noah. Who else would be calling you right now?" He sounds like he is in a better mood than the other night.

"I don't know. I'm still asleep."

"Well, stop being asleep and come out to lunch with me. There is a new restaurant that just opened right down the street from your apartment. You won't even have to drive. They serve breakfast all day, so you can have waffles or something if you want. My treat."

"I'm sorry, I can't wake up right now. You've reached Abra's voicemail leave a message." I hang up and fall right back to sleep. However, my friend is quite persistent. My phone rings again. I can almost hear Noah yelling at me to answer.

"Fine," I say. "I'll get up."

I answer the phone and sit up.

"You can't stay in bed all day, you know. The world is waiting outside your door." he says.

"Thank you, Mr. Guru. Anything else you want to chant at me?" Grumpily, I slip into my Kermit slippers and drunkenly careen my way to the bathroom. I don't even bother to hang up before plopping down on the toilet.

"Come on, Grumpy Gus. Its a beautiful day. I have a beautiful friend I'd like to spend it with. That friend being you."

"Okay, okay. Let me shower and I'll meet you at the restaurant." I flush the toilet and hang up.

I look in the mirror to see if I look any different after last night. Nothing seems to have changed, physically. I look like myself. I wonder if the girl in the mirror feels the cracks widening. I wonder if she realizes just how far we are falling. She looks at me blankly. I think she doesn't know. I bitterly wish I could be her. Be anyone but myself right now.

He was cute, but was he worth my soul?

All of Her: Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

I don't call Noah to go out with me. I don't call Clark. I don't call anyone. I am going to go out, by myself, and I'm going to get drunk as hell. I may go home with a stranger or I may go home alone. I don't know yet.

I dress in a soft pink top with small white and gray pearls stitched along the neckline. I put on my favorite pair of white jeans and a cute pair of gray knit ballet flats. I dab a drop of perfume behind my ears, on my wrists and then take another drop to run through my hair. After this I pull my honey blonde hair into a slightly off kilter half-up style. I accent my eyes with shimmer mascara and use a touch of sparkling pink lip gloss.

Once I have finished dressing, I make sure that Snuggles has food and water. I turn off all the lights except the one above the stove and I lock the doors. Because I was unable to drive myself home yesterday I am sans one mode of transportation. I wouldn't want to tempt myself with driving anyway. The last thing I need is a wreck while I am driving drunk. Taking a deep breath, I begin my trek to the bus stop down the street.

I take the bus downtown and it drops me off just down the block from "Alice's Wonderland." I walk calmly up the street until I am standing under the glittering lights of decadence realized. I try to take a deep breath, but it hitches in my ribs somewhere. The ache of betraying Jahan, of the bitterness David has given me, reverberate through my bones. Or maybe that is the thrumming of a bass line. I won't let any of this stop me. I am going inside and I am going to forget for a time.

When I open the door the music and the smell of alcohol hit me full in the face. I try not to stagger, but trip over my own feet. I am caught by cute guy with shoulder length, wavy, black hair with one strip of blood red. He smiles as he helps me right myself and then he holds the door open so that I can walk inside.

The lights are dazzling and the dance floor is packed. The gentleman who assisted me at the door, smiles again and points toward a couple stools at the bar. I just stare for a moment, completely out of my element. Gently, he places his hand on the small of my back and guides me to the stools.

"Set the lady up with whatever she wants, on me." He smiles and hands his card to the bartender. He turns and winks at me then saunters off to the speak with the DJ. Completely bewilder, I look at the bartender.

"What'll it be miss?" He smiles as he wipes out a glass.

"I don't know. What do you recommend?"

"Do you like apples? I have a sweet new drink with a kick. It has apple liqueur in it, though."

"Sounds interesting. What kind of drink is it?" I lean forward a little with my elbows resting on the bar.

"I call it 'George Washington's Apple'. Its got whisky, sour apple vodka, apple liqueur and a spritz of soda."

"Will it get me drunk quickly?" I ask, leaning forward a little more.

"I suppose that depends on how fast you drink it." He winks and mixes up the drink in a tall glass. He pours it over ice and hands it to me. "Cheers, girly."

I take a sip and close my eyes. It is sweet and sour, with a vague alcohol taste. I don't wait for the ice to water it down and I down it as quickly as I can. The bartender's eyes widen as I try to catch the breath that just got knocked out by the alcohol rush. I smile a flirty smile and ask for another. This one without ice. I throw it back like I've been a drunk my whole life.

After two more of those and an appletini with a sugared rim, my drink total is up to five. I feel pleasantly tipsy and the room tips with me. I decide it is time to dance and flirt, so leaving the safety of my bar stool I float to the floor. At least, it feels like I float. For all I know I could be drooling and stumbling all the way there.

I happen to catch the eye of the cutie that helped me in the door and I motion him over. I ask him to dance with me and he obliges with a quirky grin. While we are dancing I have the opportunity to really look at him.

He looks like a Korean movie star. His eyes look like they were painted on a porcelain doll. I've never seen such beautiful eyes. They are the color of a lime's insides. Of course this could be the alcohol talking. I am pretty tipsy right now. Maybe a little more than that.

His lips are kind of feminine. Perfect Cupid's bow upper lip. A perfect bow in general. One corner lifts in the cutest way, giving him that quirky grin. He's a little feminine though, but not so much as to be unattractive. Not that he would be unattractive to me anyway. I like his look. I love his hair. Its so soft and for some reason he is letting me run my fingers through it. I twist the red strip around my fingers and giggle when I let it go.

"What's your name?" I ask, noting a slight slurring to my speech.

"Jae." He smiles and puts his hands on my hips. "And your name?"

"Abra. What's a cute, nice, guy like you doing in a place like this?"

"Trying to find a piece of Wonderland, I suppose. What is a beautiful, and naive, girl like you doing in a place like this?" Our hips move in rhythm with the music and I am feeling drunk, not just from the alcohol, but from his eyes and the way he talks. His dancing isn't so bad either.

"Why do you, why do you say I'm naive?"

"Because you had no idea what to expect when you walked in here. And the tripping at the door didn't help to prove it otherwise."

I lean my cheek against his chest as a slow song comes on. He smells good and he feels so right underneath my hands and face. When the song ends and the next begins I pull away and go back to the bar stool.

I order six Buttery Nipples, a Sex on the Beach and a Cotton Candy twister before Jae comes up and stops me. At this point I can't see straight, think straight or even speak straight. He helps me off of my stool and begins to lead me outside. At first I fight back, trying to go back for another shot of something or other. After a futile effort on my part, I give up and allow myself to be practically carried out. Once we are outside, I realize just how attracted I am to this man. I notice how tall he is and how he carries himself. I find that I am burning up, not just from the alcohol.

"You are so so so so beautiful, you know." I stammer. He smiles and I want to melt a little.

"You are beautiful too. Probably more so when you aren't wasted." He places his hands on my shoulders to steady me.

"I? I drunk? Never, sir. 'Tis only a trick of the flashy lights. Truly. I have never been more sober in all my life." I pull away and try to strike a pose. I almost fall on my face before he catches me.

"And a pitiful liar too. Do you have someone who could come and pick you up?" He has doubled in my vision. Now there are three hot Koreans holding me up.

"No pick ups, only let downs. No lovers, no friends. Do you want my lover to be?" I lean into him, my head and my heart dancing a tango on a sinking ship. I feel sick. "I think I need another drink. I'm not drunk enough."

"I think you are plenty drunk." He says, preventing me from walking, or falling, back to the club. "I think I'll call you a taxi."

"No taxes on dances." I grab his hand and try a tarantella. I fail miserably. Partially because I'm drunk. Or, maybe entirely because I'm drunk. Then, without warning, I kiss him. It isn't the most amazing kiss in the world, but it isn't the worst all things considered. To my drunken surprise, he kisses me back. His arms come around me and he kisses me like David should've kissed me when we were together. With passion and meaning, with a zest for love and life.

I lose track of how long we kiss, but he does break it off and calls for a taxi. He rides with me to my apartment, even having the taxi driver pull over for bagels, which I am suddenly dying for. He helps me up the stairs to my apartment and he carries me inside. He sets me on the couch while I contentedly munch on a bagel. Snuggles meows at this dastardly intruder and then proves that he is the worst watch-cat ever by purring and wrapping himself around said intruder's leg. Jae squats to pet him and then comes over to sit by me.

Suddenly, I feel very nauseous. I stand up and stumble to the bathroom. He follows me. I crumple in front of the toilet and begin throwing up. Shockingly, he comes up and holds my hair out of my face.

"I swear to dog, I'll never eat bagels again." I sputter, in-between bouts of retching.

"I'm sure you won't." He says, a little chuckle under his breath barely audible above my vomiting.

"Its not funny." I whimper.

"No, it isn't. But maybe next time you won't have four 'George Washington's Apples', an appletini, six Buttery nipples, a cotton candy twister and a Sex on the Beach. You should be happy that I'm not having to rush you to the hospital."

"I'll try to the remember that when my stomach falls out of my mouth and into the toilet."

Once I have completely emptied my innards, he washes my face and carries me to my bedroom. He slips off my shoes and pulls the covers over me. He kisses my cheek and gently rubs my temples, which are throbbing now.

"It was nice to meet you, sleep well." He kisses me again and is gone before I pass out.

The next morning I can't remember a damn thing. I vaguely remember a beautiful Asian man and dancing. I remember drinking interestingly titled drinks. I remember throwing up. But that is it. And I have the worst hang-over in the world. There has to be an easier way to forget the past. Clearly drinking it away isn't going to work. Except in the short term.

I stumble out of my room and into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. There is a bag of half eaten bagels lying on the counter. What the hell happened last night? Seeing as how I am still fully dressed I didn't sleep with anyone. But where did I get bagels and why? How did I get home?

Instead of trying to figure it out, I lie down on the couch and let Snuggles curl up with me. My head is pounding as the coffee brews. I swear I am never doing that again. At least not until the next time I fuck something up royally.

Maybe I should try again tonight. Except this time only have one or two drinks. And take someone with me so that I don't hook my way home. Not that there is any proof that I did that last night. Or maybe I should just give up the whole goddamn scheme and call it a day. I can't, of course, but it is nice to think about. I'm already too far gone to stop now.

I spend my day sleeping off my hang-over and watching bad soap operas on TV. I decide it would be better to go out again tomorrow or the next night. I should really give my liver and kidneys time to recover from the bender we went on last night. The cat seems happy with this decision.

I dream of the cute guy from the bar and wonder if we did anything last night that I can't remember. Did we even talk? I have no idea. I remember how nice the bartender was with each drink I ordered though. Of course that was probably just because I was spending money.

Wait. I didn't spend any money last night, did I? I don't remember. How else could I have gotten all that alcohol though? I must've spent something. However, when I check my purse I discover that I am only missing five dollars. And in its place is a receipt for a bag of bagels. Well that explains the bagels. I still have no idea why I got them. All I know is that when I look at them I get queasy. I think I should avoid them for a few days.

About ten o'clock my phone rings. I don't recognize the number, but I pick up anyway. My thinking isn't exactly clear right now.

"House of pain and inconsistent memories, how may we help you?"

"Abra, its Alice." My eyes snap open and I feel a righteous indignation building up underneath the blinding pain in my head.

"What the hell do you want?"

"I want to talk to you. Now. Where can I meet you?" She sounds like she actually believes I'll meet up with her.

"Why would I want to meet with you anywhere?"

"Because we need to settle a few things."

"Look, for you things may be unsettled, but for me I'm as settled as I'm going to be and I don't care to have anything more to do with you or your asshole husband."

"Pull your head out of your ass and meet me at the park in fifteen minutes."

"I'd really like to oblige, but I can't hear you because my ears are so full of shit from my head being plugged up my ass. Thanks for playing though. Buh-bye." I hang up. As I begin to walk away from the phone it rings again.

"What do you want with me, huh? Want to humiliate me some more?"

"No. I want to talk."

"You can kiss my ass, we're done talking."

"No, we're not! We're nowhere near done talking. I know you slept with David. I know what you are trying to do and I think its pathetic." She is spits each word out as if it is poisonous.

"What am I trying to do that you haven't already done?"

"That's low, even for you."

"Really? Low, you say? Hm, you know what's low? Low is, oh I don't know, stealing your best friend's fiance away from her on her wedding day. That's pretty low, don't you think? Or encouraging your best friend's boyfriend, fiance, significant asshole to sleep with her and propose to her even though he isn't in love with her. That's pretty low too. You know what's really low though? The fact that you have the gall to be upset with me for sleeping with your husband when you've been sleeping with my boyfriend for Lucifer's dark angels only know how long. So suck it the fuck up and get over yourself." With that I hang up, again. This time she doesn't call back.

To be honest, I can't help but want her to call again so I can rant some more. It feels nice to finally say all the things I've kept bottled up since this whole mess started. When you think about it, it is truly unfair that she hasn't let me do this sooner. I wish she would call back. Of course, I have caller ID so I could technically call her, but its so much more satisfying to have her crawling back for another heaping helping of bitch.

I am so riled up that I can't sleep now. I pace around the floor wondering if she'll get up the nerve to call me again. I practice what I'd like to say to her, the sniveling coward. It is one thing for her to steal my man out from under me and claim to be my friend, but heaven forbid I utilize turnabout to do the same. How could I have been so completely blind to all of this?

Out of the blue I decide to bake a pie. I don't really care what kind of pie. I just want to make one. Something to keep my mind off Alice, off of Jahan, off of everything. At least for a little while. I scour my cupboards for pudding mixes and discover I have a pistachio pudding and a chocolate cherry. I opt for the pistachio and busily set about making a crust for it. It is so much fun that I completely forget that my ex-lover and my ex-best friend are probably having sex right now and I'm just making a pie so that I can get fat. Or not.

After my crust is done baking I fill it with pistachio pudding and put it in the fridge. I pop in a Cary Grant DVD and get a bowl of Vanilla Latte ice cream while I wait for my pie to firm up. Why can't all men be suave and sophisticated like Cary Grant? Why can't I find a sweet, funny, intelligent and handsome man who will completely sweep me off my feet?

After that movie is over I pop in "Gone with the Wind" and decide that it is already one in the morning, may as well watch a long movie. I end up falling asleep just as Miss Melanie has her baby and Rhett swoops in to save the day.

I dream of Clark Gable and Cary Grant whisking me away in a horse drawn carriage through a burning city with a Godzilla sized bitch-o-saurus named Alice chasing after us. At the last minute we are saved by a talking pistachio pie that leads us to a night club in the middle of a desert. The desert, of course, is located inside a giant beating heart and there is a handsome Asian man across the ventricles beckoning me to dance with him. He kisses me and the heart explodes into a thousand beautiful pieces and I wake up alone, and utterly bewildered, in my apartment.

That is the last time I eat Vanilla Latte ice cream and watch "Gone with the Wind" before bed.

All of Her: Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Jahan sneaks away from her father's house many times a week to stay the night with me. Her brother lends her his car, not knowing that she is using it to carry on a homosexual affair with me. An affair that revolves around her rebellious love for sex, alcohol, pork and shellfish. An affair that involves the complete removal of her burqa and niqab. An affair that causes me more and more guilt with each passing day.

We never go out in public where she could be seen. Though she admits that only her mother has seen her without the burqa and niqab since she turned thirteen. We carry on in secret, falling deeper and deeper into a pit that I don't think we can escape. Her drunken revelries and sexual exploits are all that matter to her in the abyss.

"You know I would never be able to do anything if I married." She says, out of the blue, as we are eating dinner.

"Why is that?" I ask, nonchalantly munching on my food. I already know the answer. This is a conversation we have had several times already. With each variation my guilt punches me in the stomach harder and harder.

"The more I talk to him, his name is Alec, have I told you that? Anyway, the more I talk to him, the more I realize how deeply in love with the Quran and Allah he is. I would never be seen in public, except completely covered. I would be nothing but a child bearer to him. A sexless sex toy. I wonder if I would even be allowed to continue to read?"

"Maybe he isn't half as bad as you think he is." I say. She looks shocked that I should defend this faceless evil named Alec.

"Maybe you should marry him then." She says, in a snarky tone. "How would you enjoy being used like a doll for his wants and desires?"

"I wouldn't like that, but you don't know if that is the way he is. You told me once that the Quran encouraged respect of women and that your mother chose to be covered so that she would remain pure and set apart for Allah. If that is true, and he loves the Quran and Allah so much, maybe he will respect you as you ought to be respected. Maybe he would not demand that you be covered. Maybe he would actually try to please you sexually. You don't know him well enough to judge him."

"And you don't know him well enough to defend him." She sets her fork down, a little forcefully. I wince at the sound. This is the first time I've tried to argue with her. Normally I would just let her rant and then let her seduce me. Normally I would pretend for a moment that I am in love with her and that we can hide this forever.

"Well, you are always speaking so cruelly about him. I can't help but feel sorry for him. From what you've told me it seems that he is trying to be kind."

"I don't understand why you would want to defend him at all! You do know that my parents are trying to force me to marry this man? That would be the end of us, the end of my life as I know it now."

I keep quiet, though I want to continue to argue. I don't want to argue, really. I just want her to see some other point of view. I take another bite of my food, signalling an end to the discussion. She doesn't seem to think it is over, however.

"I know that you are not like me, Abra. I know that you still hold warm thoughts and memories for men. I can see it sometimes. But you don't know men like I do. You don't understand them like I do. You haven't had to live with them like I have."

Again, I do not respond. I let her rant. After she is done, she puts back on her coverings and doesn't even bother to kiss me goodbye. She leaves, slamming the door. I clear away the dishes and clean up. I feed Snuggles and wonder how I will ever get out of this mess without hurting her. I suppose there isn't a way, unless she decides to leave me.

It is a week before she comes over again. I find that I have missed her intensely as soon as I see her through the peephole. She doesn't bother with hello or how have you been? She pulls off her veil and kisses me. I have taught her too well and she takes me on the floor of the entryway.

We don't say a word the entire evening. We eat a simple meal and I let her do as she pleases. Every now and then I will look up and see her gray eyes staring at me intently. She looks at me, looks through me. I feel as though she can see the guilt building inside of me. She says nothing, though.

She leaves quietly, while I am in the bathroom preparing for bed. When I come out she is gone and I am alone with my cat.

The next night she comes over again. This time we carry on a lively conversation on poetry and she lets me read some of what she has written. I blush to see that she has written poems dedicated to me.

"Can I keep some of these?" I ask, holding one particular poem to my heart.

"I will have to make copies first, but yes you can." She smiles and kisses me.

She stops as she prepares to leave for the evening.

"I've been thinking that we should run away together. Find a place where we could get married and live happily ever after, like in a fairy tale. Wouldn't that be lovely?" She looks at me, her eyes sparkling.

My blood runs cold and my heart comes to a screeching halt. I blink, once, twice.

"You can't be serious." I say. "Think of everything you would be leaving behind. Besides that where would we run? What would we do?"

"No, I'm not serious." She laughs. "I had you going for a moment though, didn't I? I would love to run, though. Free of my burqa, my religion, my demanding parents. It would be nice, though, don't you think?" She laughs again and finishes putting on her niqab. She kisses me and leaves before I can say anything else.

"I can't continue doing this," I tell myself. I feel as though I have stuck my head in the lion's mouth and the only way to get it out is to have it bitten off.

I go out to get groceries and run into David. He has let his hair grow out a little and he looks as handsome as ever. He tries to talk to me and, at first, I ignore him. I grab my items and go through the line as quickly as possible, but he follows me.

"Come on, Abe, talk to me. Can't we at least try to act like civilized adults?"

I turn a venomous gaze on him, making him go silent for a few moments. However, he proves more persistent than I thought he would be. He follows me to my car and after I have put my groceries in it he grabs me by the arms and pushes me against the car.

"I just want to talk, Abra." He says.

"It doesn't feel like you 'just want to talk', David. Let me go." I try to shake free, but it doesn't work.

"Not until you agree to talk to me. Please." I nod, unwillingly, and rub my arms after he lets me go.

"What do you want to talk about?" I ask.

"Anything. How have you been? What are you doing now? Did you get that job at the accounting firm?"

"I'm fine, no thanks to you. I am getting groceries, as you can see. And yes, I got the job. May I go now?"

"Why are you acting like this? All I am doing is trying to be friendly." He throws his hands in the air in frustration. When he does that I notice a glint of silver on his finger.

"You are married now?" I say, stunned. It doesn't feel like it has been nearly long enough for him and Alice to have married.

"Yeah, we eloped to Vegas a few weeks ago." He has the decency to look a little ashamed. He runs his fingers through his hair and then looks at his ring.

"Then we have even less to say to one another. I hope you and Alice are happy together." I try to open my car door, but he closes it again. When I turn around he kisses me. I try to pull away, but find myself melting into it instead. His hands move down to my hips and he presses against me. I feel like I am on fire, even as I try to smother the flames.

"I miss you." he whispers, his forehead resting against mine. "I miss you so much."

"I miss you too." I say, even as I try not to. He kisses me again and all I can think about is his body and mine intwined. I hate this. I hate him. I want him so much. I have been burning for him since the night of Sophie's homecoming dance. I have been trying to substitute his touch with another's, but I can't replace him. I can't forget him. I can't forgive him. And, God help me, I am still in love with him.

He takes my keys, locks my car doors and pulls me into his car. We don't drive very far, just down to a secluded part of a near-by park. His kisses get more urgent and I find myself completely pliant. He pulls down my pants and lets his hands wander where they will. Without thinking I begin to undo his belt buckle and unbutton his pants in a move that looks practiced. We are in the back seat then and he is inside me. I suppress the tears that I know are about to break lose as I give in to what I have been wanting. What he has been wanting.

When he is done, he allows me to finish. Always the selfish lover. I put my clothes back on. I feel disgusting. I feel used. I feel like the doll that Jahan mentioned. I feel so guilty. Because he's married now, because I am with a beautiful woman who loves me, because I never really wanted this. I am so ashamed of my behavior that I don't wait for him to drive me back to my car. Without a word, I get out and walk. He trails me in his car.

"Get in the car, Abra. What are you doing?"

"I can't David. Just leave me alone. You've had what you want, now just let me go." I keep walking, my arms crossed over my chest.

"Please, Abe, just get in the car. Tell me what's wrong."

I stop and look at him. He brakes, throwing it in park. He comes over to me, tries to take my hand.

"What's wrong? David, we just had sex, in your car. In a park no less! And you ask me what's wrong?"

"We've had sex in my car many times, why is that such a big deal?"

"Because we were together then! You weren't married to someone else! You weren't just using me, at least I didn't think so at the time. She may be able to sleep with you when you are with someone else, but I can't. Not without a heavy conscience. Not without regretting every moment as it is happening."

He looks at me, bewildered. How dare he play dumb right now?

"What's wrong with you?" I scream, hitting him in the arm. "You love Alice, so you cheat on her with me? You love me so you cheat on me with her? Why did you even propose if you loved her so goddamn much? What the hell is wrong with you? I hate you! I hate you!"

He raises his arms to defend himself and I hit him until I can't hit anymore. I hit until I am more bruised and broken than he is.

"I did love you. I still do." he says, lamely. "I love her too. She's the one who told me to stay with you. The one who encouraged me to propose. Then, at the last minute she said she couldn't stand to watch us get married. That she loved me too much to let me go."

"Excuses, excuses, David. If you truly loved me, you wouldn't have left me waiting in the church rectory. You would've been a man and told me the truth. All this time and you still can't tell me the whole truth."

"Fine, you want the truth? The truth is I've always been in love with Alice. She is my first love. She gave herself to me and I gave myself to her. Yes, I lied when I said that you were my first. I was only with you because you were so damn pathetic. I felt sorry for you. You loved me so much and I guess I just wanted to make you happy. Alice even encouraged this, because you were her friend. But it went further than either of us thought it would and when it came time to follow through with the promises I made to you I couldn't. I couldn't do it. I couldn't because I loved Alice and I have never truly 'loved' you."

I stand there in shock. My heart has stopped and there is a roaring in my ears. My stomach is in knots and I feel like I'm going to throw up. I pull away from him, tears streaming down my face and I walk back to my car. He doesn't follow now. He lets me go.

I get to my car just before my stomach hits my mouth. I sob as I throw up. I sob until I am completely limp. I can't even drive myself home. I pull my cell out of my pocket and call Noah. He gets there a lot faster than I thought he could. He loads my groceries into his car before helping me in and taking me home. I am quiet all the way home, though Noah asks over and over what is wrong. I can't bring myself to tell him.

He helps me inside and I collapse on the couch. I feel like a wilted flower in a raging desert. He tries to coax me out of my silence with ice cream and alcohol. He tries everything he can to get me to talk, but I just can't. I can't.

Finally he gives up and just holds me. I don't resist. I let him hold me, I let him smooth my hair and kiss my forehead. I let him ramble soothingly for I don't know how long. As the day drags into night he begins to try, again, to get me to talk. He fixes me something to eat, but I can't eat it.

He carries me into my room, as I have lost all the will to move, and helps me change into pajamas. He then tucks me into bed and lies down next to me. He hums a lullaby, while he holds me. I begin to cry again and he lets me. I don't know how long it takes, but eventually we fall asleep. My face swollen from crying and his shirt soaked from my tears.

I wake up with a sore throat from all my screaming, crying and vomiting. I can barely talk above a whisper. Noah is still asleep, his arms wrapped around me, protectively. I feel like crying again, but discover I have no more tears to cry at the moment.

I try to move without waking Noah up, but when I begin to stir so does he. He snaps into full awareness when he sees my puffy face and still tear-bright eyes.

"Are you able to tell me what's wrong now, hon?"

"Maybe once I've had a drink." I croak. "My throat hurts."

"I can imagine from all the crying you did. Of course, I can only account for the crying you did in my presence. God only knows how long you were crying before you called me."

"It felt like forever." I whisper. We go into the kitchen where Noah makes me cup of warm tea.

"What happened, Abe?"

"I ran into David at the grocery." I say, taking another sip of tea.

"Just running into him was enough to make you this catatonic?"

"No. I didn't just run into him. Noah, David and Alice got married. In Vegas, apparently." I wait a moment, trying to gain some courage for the next part.

"I'm not surprised. Since they have been doing this for who knows how long, it is only to be expected that they would get married rather quickly."

"That's not it, though Noah. I had sex with David. In his car. And he is married to Alice. I had sex with him and I'm in a relationship with a beautiful, and rebellious, young woman. And the only reason he was ever with me was because I was so pathetic he felt sorry for me. I'm still so pathetic, Noah." I burst into tears and lean against his shoulder.

He has no words for what I have done. I have no words for it either. I feel so disgusting. I need a shower. I need something to scrub this out of me. I need something to make me forget.

I pull away from Noah. He has even teared up a little and I feel even more guilt.

"Go home, dear. I need a shower. And Jahan may be coming over tonight. I couldn't stand for you to be here when I tell her."

"Are you sure? I can stay however long you need me."

"I can't ask that of you. Besides, there are some things I have to do on my own. You can't always be here to pick up the pieces."

Reluctantly, he leaves me. Once he is gone, fresh sorrow comes. I manage to drag myself into the shower, but only half-heartedly clean myself. I can't summon the strength to do anything. Instead, I slide down to the floor of the tub and hug my knees to my chest while I cry some more.

Eventually I pull myself together enough to get out of the, now cold, water. I dress slowly in jean shorts and a Minnie Mouse t-shirt. I slip on my fuzzy Kermit slippers and pour myself another cup of tea. I try to eat something, but can't bring myself to. I feed the cat instead.

Around eight, there is a knock on the door. I know it is Jahan, but I still peek through the peephole. I open the door slowly as she comes in. She takes one look at me and stops unwinding her veil.

"What's happened?" she says, her hands coming up to caress my swollen face.

"Don't worry about it." I say, brushing her hands away. She seems to make the sincere attempt and finishes undressing. Though she is standing before me naked, I do not feel any stirring. I feel no lust or desire. My only thought is to get her a pair of my jeans and a t-shirt.

"What is wrong? You don't even want to have sex with me?" She takes the jeans and shirt, ruefully. She seems hurt by my behaviour.

"This sexual and religious rebellion can't last forever, you know."

"Where is this coming from? What happened today?"

"We can't continue like this." I say, trying to make her see, make her understand. "Eventually you have to face who and what you are."

"It can last as long as we want it to!" She exclaims. I have never seen her angry. I have seen her in a passionate fury, but never angry. Not like this. It is coupled with fear, I can see it in her eyes. She is afraid for me, of me. She grabs me and tries to kiss me. I shove her away, but she tries again. And, again, I shove her away.

"Why don't you want me, Abra?"

"I don't want our relationship to be like this!" I finally say. I feel so defeated. Since she first told me that she wanted me I have fucked this up. At this point, there is no way she is walking away unscathed.

"You don't want us to be about sex? Fine. It doesn't have to be. I love you for more than the sexual pleasure you give me."

"No, I don't want us to continue hiding everything. It can't last forever, Jahan. One day it has to stop being rebellion."

"How do you want it to be then? Do you want me to out myself to my family? Give up everything to be with you? I will do that. Do you want me to spit in the face of everything I've known? Fine, I will do that. Is that what you mean? Do you want me to burn my burqa and shred my niqab? Consider it done. It will no longer be rebellion. It will be my choice. Will that make you happy?"

"No. I don't want you to do any of that for me. Or anyone else. If you choose to reveal yourself let it be for your sake alone. Not mine."

"I gave myself to you. Told you I loved you."

"I know." The guilt is overwhelming. Not just for the loss of her innocence, but for everything.

"I want to be your lover."

"But I can't be what you want, Jahan."

She looks confused and hurt. She looks furious and so in love. I imagine I looked the same way when David abandoned me at the altar. I imagine I looked that way yesterday when he told me the truth.

"Can't we try?"

"No."

"Why not?" she demands.

"Because I have been unfaithful. And I always will be unfaithful to you. No matter how I wish I wasn't."

"What are you talking about? Unfaithful how?"

"I am still in love with my ex. I had sex with him. I'm sorry. I didn't want to do this. I swear, I wanted an easy parting."

"You had sex with your ex." She is in the same state of shock I was. She slowly takes off my clothes and begins to put on her own.

"I did." I say. I want her to hate me. At this point I deserve no less. I hate myself even more.

"I should go." She says. She sounds like a zombie, winding her niqab. I grasp her shoulders so that those tear bright eyes are looking into my own.

"I do care about you, I do. Please understand."

"So that's why you've never said 'I love you' to me. You don't love me. You've been using me. You saw me as a doll to be played with. I thought you were different. I thought you loved me. I hate you!" She tears out of my grasp and flies toward the door.

"No, I never meant to use anyone!" I follow her. This isn't what I wanted, but it is what I deserve.

"But you did. And now, I hope you are happy. I hope you are happy with a man who doesn't love you and only uses you for your body. I hope that you regret this moment for the rest of your life." With that she leaves, slamming the door behind her. Out of my life forever.

The next day there is a piece of paper slipped under my door notifying me of Jahan's intentions to marry Alec. Have I ruined her life? Could she ever love Alec? Or will she be a slave as she predicted?

I have felt nothing but guilt throughout this relationship. I used a beautiful girl, without meaning to. Cheated on her. Broke her heart. Corrupted her. Drove her to enslave herself to a man she doesn't love for a religion she no longer believes in.

All for what? For a man who never actually loved me, who only used me. All because I couldn't fall in love with her. I feel as though I have destroyed a stained glass window. Or a rare rose garden. I can't forgive myself.

Tonight, I need to get drunk.