“Grayson is an ass,” I stated.
“He’s so damaged and dark. Intense. I think I like the danger of it,” she said softly.
“Oh, I can definitely see him as one of those dangerous bad ass types,” I laughed.
She gave me a measured stare and giggled, “Don’t knock the alpha male types, they’re delicious.”
“Oh sure,” I laughed. “There is nothing wrong with bad boys, unless you have self-esteem and confidence. Then you’re fucked, and you’re smart enough to know you’re fucked. I know, because I’ve fallen down that dark hole before.”
“Yeah, but, I’ve always loved those dangerous damaged men. I wonder why, you know?”
“Daddy issues?” I laughed at my reflection in the mirror, “Mine was mommy issues, really.” I glanced over at Morgan who was sniffing and staring down at her hands. I nudged her and smiled. “I think the truth is that we are in love with the fantasy of being that one person who could inspire, arouse, or affect someone who is so untouchable to the rest of the world. It makes us feel special; like we’re the diamond in the rough, the one in a million, the one that everyone else couldn’t be, and do what everyone else couldn’t do. Imagine being that significant to someone? To never have to doubt that he loves you, or needs you, or more importantly, wants you more than any other.”
“I totally agree with you,” a strange small voice said from behind me.
“Yeah, me too. I’d give a limb to feel like that,” said another voice.
Lifting my eyes to the mirror, I noticed the group of women behind me, nodding their heads in agreement. I smiled at all of them; we were all striving for that same desire, weren’t we?
“The question is,” a tall, older brunette began, “is that a reality? Does love like that, desire and passions like that exist?”
Morgan shook her head next to me, “I don’t think so. If it does, I’ve never felt it.”
Some of the women agreed, some didn’t. I just shrugged and sighed, “For me, I’ve learned the hard way that I can’t ever expect a man to make me feel that way. I have to make myself feel that way. I want to be the one person who could inspire, arouse, and affect me. Because, let’s be honest, no one is going to be with me longer than me.”
The way those women reacted to what I said, I thought I was going to be carried out of that bathroom on their shoulders with them chanting my name. I had never been more proud of my ovaries and uterus for all of womankind.
Morgan and I walked back to our table laughing with our arms hooked like teenage best friends. Fran was still on his soapbox, while a slanted Jeremy hovered over a dark amber drink, smiling at the table, and nodding his head. Fran stopped mid-rant and smiled at me, “There you are. I ordered a red wine for you. I hope that’s okay.”
Smiling at him, I nodded and sat in the seat next to him. The four of us ordered dinner together and our dinner discussions went from one extreme to another, never touching on anything personal. Throughout the dinner, I couldn’t help but feel as if I was separated off from the three of them, even though we all shared in the conversations. They seemed so far removed from my life and my experiences that I felt as if I were from another universe. Of course, my mind wandered to Kade and that kiss. What made it so earthshattering? Was it my attraction to him? Was it because he was mean and degrading, and I wanted to prove to him what and who I really was? I always did have a big issue with people who underestimated me. I loved to prove them wrong. Then I wondered what was it that made Kade so damaged. Was he just as damaged as me?
After dinner, Fran, as promised, took me to the best bookstore I’d ever been to. Well Red was a bookstore/wine house, where you could buy books, sit and read them over a glass of wine; a little spin on the bookstore/coffee houses of the city. We sat there for two hours, sipping a glass of red wine and read. I left with a stack of new books, and he left with a smug, proud smile on his face. Nevertheless, I let him keep it there, since the bookstore was perfect and I guess I was thawing a little towards him.
Chapter 6
Kicking my foot through the pile of clothes on the floor, I watched them fly up until I spotted my pants and pulled them on. The rest of the material belonged to the naked woman sleeping on my bed, the one that still had my reddened handprints on her ass. I’d already let her sleep fifteen minutes past the time I would let anyone stay in this room (incidentally, that’s usually fifteen minutes), and that’s only because I left her to search my house for the strongest whiskey I had. A fifth of the bottle was gone already. Do you know how many shots are in a fifth of whiskey? About twenty-drunken-five shots, so I should have been out cold.
I kicked my foot against the bed, the mattress moved about half a foot off my box springs, and I took another swig. “It’s time to go, um…” I’d completely forgotten her name. “Hello, love?”
The body stirred quietly on the bed and the woman’s eyes peeked out from under the covering of my sheets. I scooped up the clothes that belonged to her and dropped them right in front of her face. “I’ve got work to do, so you have to shove off now.”
She sat up, and the sheets fell away revealing a pair of large breasts that I didn’t even bother to look at, let alone touch, thirty minutes ago. I tossed her purse onto the bed and leaned against the far wall where I’d already opened the door for her highly anticipated (only by me it seemed) departure. Resting my body against the frame of the door, I gestured my hands for her to move along and hurry.
The whites of her eyes became bigger, but I didn’t feel remorse. I felt completely nothing. All right, I lied. I felt like throwing her body out of the window, because she wasn’t moving fast enough.
The woman dressed quickly, trying to do so seductively, but I was too busy pretending to look at my phone and the empty inbox of messages I had, to watch her. I’d already had my fun with her, well just one certain part of her, and that’s all I needed. She was the one that propositioned me, at the grocery store, no less. I was just a willing dick. The only reason I said yes was because of her dark black hair that allowed me to pretend she was someone else. Sick, yes? Yeah, and that was why I was holding said bottle of whiskey to my lips. Open. Insert liquor. Forget. Repeat until you could look in the mirror again.
“Will you call me? Maybe we could go out some time,” she smiled, walking to my front door.
“Love, I don’t even remember your name, and I don’t plan on asking you for it again.”
“You’re an asshole, you know that?”
“Yes, and you’re the whore who let me stick my dick in you and spank your ass,” I said, closing the door on her surprised expression. I would say I cared, but I hated lying.
Anything other than sex is off limits. Out of bounds. Most women (read as every fucking last one of them) have wanted something from me that I couldn’t give them. It was not the typical excuse of me wanting to fuck without strings either. I would give an organ away for one fucking normal day, where I could pretend to be right in the fucking head and whole enough to be in a healthy relationship with someone. I would love to find one person I could be comfortable to be myself with, but I was lost and I couldn’t. I didn’t cherish taking someone along with me through my hell, skipping along, clueless to my madness. Even Lainey, which was why I wanted her to hate me; she would anyway if she ever got the chance to know me. I was one sick fuck.