"Justin!"
He turned his face towards the voice, his mouth not moving to a smile when he saw his girlfriend jogging towards him. He sighed. He hated it when she said his name.
"Calisto, hi," he said, forcing a smile to spread across his face. He opened his arms to her and she fell into them, hugging him tightly.
"I haven't seen you in a few days, what have you been up to?" she asked, grabbing hold of his hand as they started to walk up Justin's driveway. He had been taking a walk, and apparently so had she.
"Were you coming to see me?" he asked, ignoring her question.
She grinned. "Of course I was, baby!" She shook out her long brown hair and smiled up at him. "I never see you anymore!"
"Well, we'll just have to fix that, won't we?" He smiled wide and grabbed her around the waist, picking her up and twirling around.
She squealed with laughter, her green eyes sparkling. He put her down gently and took hold of her hand again.
"Come on," he urged, pulling her towards the house.
He disgusted himself sometimes. He didn't know how much longer he could keep up this façade with Calisto. He was like a fucking cheerleader around her. That's what he knew she wanted. His deep side wasn't of concern, and if he showed it, it would probably scare her. She just wanted him to be fun-loving and wonderful. The way every boyfriend was supposed to be. It was too bad she didn't know what kind of boyfriend he actually was.
He gritted his teeth as he pulled her though the front door, pushing the thoughts of what he had done in the past few months out of his head. He wasn't proud of it, and he didn't want to face it.
"So, what are we doing?" Calisto asked coyly, grinning and draping her arms over his shoulders and standing on her tiptoes in order to plant a kiss on his lips.
Sometimes he kind of moved his lips slightly to give her the impression that he was kissing her back, but he never actually did. She must think he was a pretty crappy kisser. He didn't care.
She pulled back and bit her bottom lip innocently as she took his hand and started to pull him towards the stairs. He knew what she wanted, and he felt obligated to give it to her.
He followed her up the stairs, sighing inwardly. These meetings were so pointless to him. He derived no pleasure from this. He knew she did, and that's why he continued to do it, but he didn't feel anything. He always lay there on the bed, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as she bounced up and down on top of him, screaming her lungs out.
That's how it always happened, and that's how it would happen this time. She probably thought he was pretty crappy in bed, too. He shook his head. If she only knew.
She started kissing his neck and unbuttoning his shirt once they had made it into his room. He played along and worked on her button and zipper, pushing her pants down her legs.
Before long, he was lying in his usual position on the bed, his hands resting on her thighs to give her the impression he was paying attention to what she was doing. His blue eyes stared at the ceiling and his mind began to wander and he blocked out her screams and ceased to feel her body on top of his as she lowered onto him.
He sighed. He had done too much in these past few months. He was a player and he knew it. It wasn't that he wanted to cheat on Calisto or even that he'd wanted to have sex with any of those girls, it was just that they'd wanted to have sex with him and he wasn't going to stop them. He felt he owed it to them. Why, he didn't know, he just knew what he felt.
His mind wandered to his friend Joey's last birthday party. As usual, his other friends had hired a stripper for the man, and he had watched her do her show as any young man should, wide-eyed and with a mouth hitting the floor. He did that so the other men would get a kick out of it. He hadn’t really been watching the girl whose name he had later discovered to be Amber. He hadn't really been interested.
Later on in the night, after she'd finished her show and been paid by his friends, she had stuck around and positioned herself next to Justin, smiling girlishly at him and flirting harmlessly. All of his friends were drunk, but he hadn't touched a drop of liquor.
They hadn't even noticed the two disappear into Joey's bedroom.
He was vaguely aware of Calisto moving up and down on top of him, her fingers tracing his chest as she started to breathe faster. She had learned not to look at his face while they did this, she didn't like the expression.
Amanda. He remembered Amanda. The young girl in the bar in Minneapolis. The moment he had stepped into the bar, she had been at his side, smiling and running her fingers over his skin. She had forced him to dance, something he rarely did when he went out, and she was definitely hot for him.
His friends were drunk as usual by the time she pulled him out to the alleyway behind the bar. They hadn't even noticed he had been gone.
When it came to Justin and girls, he just didn't care. Girls weren't a big part of his life. He wasn't looking for a commitment, he wasn't looking to get married or start a family or anything of the sort. He was looking for love. He was searching for someone he could love unconditionally and who could do the same for him. All he'd found so far were girls willing to bang his brains out.
There were too many of those.
Calisto started to scream and Justin almost winced at the level of her voice.
Chantal had been a screamer. Screamers usually weren't an issue, but when you were in the middle of Central Park, it could turn into a real problem. Chantal was one to make him yell. She would grab his hair and make him look at her and yell at him until he said her name at an acceptable volume.
He had almost cracked a smile when watching American Pie, remembering that night.
Chantal was a waitress at a diner a few blocks from the park. He had gone there late at night for a cup of coffee, and she had wanted to give him more than just a black liquid to wake him up. She had requested that he walk her home, and in doing so, they had to walk through the Park. She had always thought the grass of Central Park was soft and comfortable. He couldn't help but agree.
"Oh, Justin, that was good." He snapped out of his reverie as Calisto collapsed onto his chest, letting out a groan of pleasure.
He reluctantly brought his hands to rub up and down her bare back softly, simply nodding his head in agreement to her earlier statement. He didn't even remember climaxing.
Justin sighed, his hands crossed over his stomach as he lay on her little shrink couch. "She did. I just laid there, I wasn't even paying attention."
"If you weren't paying attention to her, what were you paying attention to?" Jasmine wrote down a little note on her pad of paper which was resting in her lap.
She was the typical movie therapist, black wide-rimmed glasses over her light grey eyes. Her hair, which she usually allowed to flow down her back was pulled up tightly into a bun, the reddish brown waves not visible with it pinned up like that. Her caramel colored skin was flawless and even gave her a more professional air.
"I was thinking about what I've been doing in the past few months," he replied, turning his face away from her penetrating eyes.
"And what, exactly, is that?" She adjusted her knee-length black skirt and smoothed her hands over the breast of her sport jacket. He glanced over at her, his eyes drawn to the break in her white v-neck shirt under the jacket. He tore his eyes away before they traveled any further.
"You know what that is," he replied, looking back up at the ceiling.
"Were you thinking about the girls?"
He simply nodded.
"Which girls?"
"Not you if that's what you're wondering," he shot at her, his jaw set.
She didn't miss a beat. "Why would you think that was what I was wondering?" she asked, still appearing professional.
He sat up on the couch. "Because you are one of those girls," he said quietly.
She put her pen down and reached up to shake her hair out of the bun. The waves cascaded over her shoulders and she folded her glasses in her hands.
"Do you want to make yourself more comfortable, Justin?" she asked, unbuttoning the buttons on her jacket.
He sighed. 'Here we go again.' He smiled. "No, Jasmine, I'm fine."
She had always said that this was part of the therapy, when she took her clothes off and made him do the same. This was supposed to make him sane. This was supposed to make him get his feelings out. He knew it was bullshit, but he didn't care. If she wanted to fuck him, he was going to give it to her. He kind of liked screwing the therapist, anyway. It made him feel vulnerable and powerful at the same time. Vulnerable because she was so much older than him and, above all, his therapist. And powerful for the same reasons. It was strange how two completely opposite things could be true for the exact same reasons.
He had never experienced what it was like to be on top. He never wanted to take an active role in whatever sex he had with anybody. He provided his body, and he felt that should be enough. Besides, he did some of his best thinking when he was inside a woman. It made him realize things, and it made him remember.
Remembering wasn't always a good thing.
Jasmine was already on top of him, preparing to do her version of therapy. He hadn't even realized his shirt and pants had come off. He had to stop dropping out of consciousness like that.
His mind began to wander as it had earlier that day when he had been in bed with Calisto. He remembered Allysa. Allysa the model.
He had been in Cancun, as had she. He met her in a club one night. He and she were the only people on the premises who weren't stone drunk. They had decided to leave and go someplace quieter. He was hoping she would actually talk to him, tell him things that would amaze him. He had hoped for too much. The moment they had sat down on the beach just out of reach from the surf, she had proven it to him. She closed her eyes, latched onto his arm, sighed, and rested her head on his shoulder.
The first words out of her mouth were, "So how long has it been for you?" and his heart had sunk right through the wet sand.
He had smiled and said what she wanted to hear. "Too long."
Justin opened his eyes to look up at Jasmine. For some reason, every time they did this, he always closed his eyes. He supposed he just didn't want to look at her.
He had closed his eyes during sex only one other time. But it was for a reason. It was raining and he couldn't open his eyes.
Brittney was a cheerleader. He had been at a basketball game at the University of North Carolina, watching the Tarheels tear up and down the court. She was the head cheerleader on the squad and had her eye on him from the moment he had walked into the gymnasium. After the game had ended, she had slipped a piece of paper into his hand and winked, hopping off to the locker room.
He had glanced down and read her scrawled letters: "Meet me out back in five."
He had sighed. He always sighed. He stood and dragged himself out back, knowing full well what she wanted and what would happen. It had been pouring, but he hadn't cared. His jacket had become soaked and he stood there like a wet rat, basking in the rain.
She had bounced out of the locker room a few minutes later and before he knew it they were on the grass behind the parking lot.
He had to close his eyes. It was raining too hard to leave them open.
"What are you thinking about?" Jasmine asked, climbing off of him.
He opened his eyes, realizing it was over. He just looked at her. She picked her panties up off of the floor and began to get dressed.
"I see. Well, we'll have to discuss next session." She glanced at her watch. "Looks like our time is up."
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