Such
a Sad Affair
By
CarrieGlitter
My
veins are on fire. The itch, the hunger, it won't go away. I scratch
at them, tearing at the flesh, no good. I slam my arm against the
wall in a futile attempt to stop the burning.
"You alright?" Jack asks.
"Fine," I mumble over my shoulder. I look out the window, there is a quiet desperation in the streets of Berlin. The city reeks of junky yerning. Here, it would be so easy to get a fix. In every club, every bar, every street corner it's there. I've had to call on willpower I never knew I had but I've been able to stay away so far.
Jack steps behind me, he's so close I can feel his breath on my ear. (Put your arms around me Jack, please.) I need him to be closer.
Brian used to do that. During my darkest junky days and my blackest withdrawal night Brian was always there. His arms held me up, they gave me strength I never knew I had. Through the vomiting, the convulsions, the hallucinations, he never left. He was so perfect at taking care of me. But that was a problem too. He couldn't handle not taking care of me. I had become healthy enough to live WITH him, but all he wanted was for me to live for him.
I feel Jack's hands on my shoulders and for a split second I think he's going to hold me, but all he does is slide my shirt off. It doesn't surprise me really. I mean, he's a good guy and all, he just doesn't understand. Emotions aren't really his thing.
I stand passively and let him undress me, any touch is better than none at this point. As his lips brush across my neck I almost lose it. All I can think of is Brian, and I feel bad because of it. I'm using Jack, I know that. In his heart and mind he could never replace Brian, but when the lights are off and I hold his body in my hands, it's very easy to pretend he's someone else.
"Turn off the lights," I say. The room goes dark and I hear the sounds of him undressing and climbing into bed. I stand by the window a few moments longer, staring into the lonely city. On the sidewalk a streetwalker is being picked up by an old man. What ex-lover will he be dreaming about as he slides inside of her?
Jack's hand grabs mine and he pulls me to the bed. I can see that grin of his in the dim moonlight. It's sly, almost feminine, and confident beyond belief. If he only knew. He thinks he's surpassed Brian in my eyes, in truth he's merely replacing him.
As I lay back he climbs on top of me and starts tracing kisses down my front. His lipstick smears off like some cheap whore's and leaves red streaks on my chest, right over my heart. In the darkness, it almost looks like it's bleeding. He brings is face to mine and attempts to kiss my mouth but I pull away, throwing him back on the bed.
His lips are the only thing about him that break the illusion. His lips are nothing like Brains, and when they touch mine I'm no longer able to pretend. Instead I just climb on top of him, burrying my face in his neck. His feet slide up my legs as he wraps his thighs around my waist. My hands play over his nipples, twisting and pulling at them. His soft moans drift to my ear. I feel his hand slide between us as he starts playing with his erect cock.
I grab the lube off the table. I've had enough with foreplay, it takes too long, I just wanted to cum. It seems to disappoint Jack but he'd get over it.
I slide inside of him, my hips slapping against his pelvis as he raises his ass up to me. With his free hand he tries to pull me down on top of him but I resist. I don't want that much contact, it would make it too much like intimacy.
His make-up is running down his face, his normally smooth hair is now matted and tangled. He looks so cheap, so dirty, and he doesn't even care. Brian always looked perfect, even in the heat of passion he would never let himself be seen like this. I close my eyes to block out the sight, I try to shut my ears off from his moans. My body pounds into him, blow after blow making his hips rock up and his head fly back. A cry escapes my lips, a sound like a dying animal, and I cum inside of him. I hover over him, catching my breath, and hear his own cry as his spunk lands on my stomach. I climb off and immediately head toward the bathroom.
"Are you sure you're alright, Curt?" he calls after me as he turns on the bedside lamp.
I turn to face him. He looks so content, as if praising himself for a job well done. I'd like to tell him exactly what I'd thought about our love making, but instead I force a smile onto my lips. "No, I'm fine. You were great."
I get into the shower and immediately wash every trace of him from my body. I try to hold back my emotions, but I break down eventually, my tears falling to the shower's floor and washing down the drain.
When I'm done, I go straight to the medicine cabinet and take out a bottle of sleeping pills. Four, not enough to kill me, but enough to knock me out for a good long time. What I want more then anything right now is sleep. Only that can quench the fire in my veins and deafen the sound of my breaking heart.