This is how I feel

“Would you stop sleeping around with other people?” Thursday suddenly asked out of the blue.

“Sure, if you leave your husband.” He quipped, while tracing his finger on the cactus by the dresser.

His phone suddenly flew from the table to the wall beside him, cracking against the wall and made a lifeless thump on the carpet.

“Maybe next time you could throw it on the carpet instead?  A phone is no match for a wall you know.” he moved towards his phone, the screen now displaying a crack by the corner.  The touchscreen was now hopelessly unresponsive.  He put it back in his pocket and approached the door.

“I’m sorry… I’ll get you a new one.” she mumbled.  Obviously, she was still keenly trying to keep her anger in check but the damage was done.

“No worries.  I’m sorry too.” He took one last look at her and closed the door behind him gently.

That was three months ago.

He wasn’t responding to her messages afterwards.  At first because he couldn’t even if he wanted to.  His phone was pretty much useless.  Now, he simply didn’t bother at all.  He was determined to put his life back in order.  That meant not seeing anyone anymore.  Admittedly, he was a bum.  He was with one girl after another, seeking comfort in their arms.  He had left his job in a hurry and the girls he used to date took him in.  They all knew what he was doing, and they didn’t mind.

He would bounce back from this, they all thought.  He didn’t.  He felt worse and he got worse.

“BK”

That was Thursday’s bat-signal.  After three months of silence.  He had a job now and he was creeping back into society.

He found himself going to Burger King after an hour, which was their old arrangement.  It became a habit of hers.

“BK :)” was a booty call.

“BK :(” meant she wanted to talk because she was sad.

and “BK” just meant: “meet me at burger king after an hour.”

He had other bat signals for the others and he didn’t save their names or their numbers on his phonebook. He simply knew who they were.

Thursday was different.  He actually fell in love with her.  The only one who was married, of all people.

He entered the restaurant and saw her at her usual spot.  She was in her usual attire composed of a v-neck, leggings and a pair of running shoes.  Most likely, she had just finished one of her late night runs.

Thursday put down her glasses when she saw him coming.  She tilted her head a bit and smiled.  Her bone structure shined from the lights.  Her skin was glossy from the run.

“Thursday.” he nodded and he sat down beside her.

“You look fat and dirty.” she said. He just shrugged and smiled at her.  He didn’t shower nor make any effort to look good.  He wasn’t used to it anymore.  He also wanted to turn her off, somewhat.  The four-day stubble, the longer hair and comfortable clothes seemed to do the trick.

Thursday hugged him, regardless.  They both smelled like sweat, only Thursday’s was a lot more pleasant to the nose.  He had a more neutral scent that smelled of oatmeal cookies for some reason.  She loved smelling him before and it seems like she still does.

“Stinky and pokey I see.” she sat up straight and sat more comfortably.

“So… what’s up?  How is life?” he said.

“Same same, did you get your phone fixed?”

“I bought a tablet.  It’s my big-ass phone for now.”

She snickered at thought of him answering calls or messages with a 10 inch tablet.  He just looked at her and smiled, snatching some of her fries.  Thoughtfully, she gave him a ketchup packet and watched him.

An hour passed.  They just talked and joked and laughed as if nothing happened.  It was just hard to stay mad or anxious most times.  They were like that.

After laughing at some random topic Thursday suddenly asked if he could come up to the unit.  He hesitated for a bit and agreed.

“Don’t throw the tablet, I just got this okay?” he jokingly said, clutching his backpack tight.  Thursday laughed at him.  She had always loved his humor.

Her condo was still the same.  Neat.  Immaculately clean and organized.  She was a cleanliness-freak which explained a lot about her personality. He was a like a wrench to the whole design.

He set his bag down and plopped on his favorite couch.  She went to the kitchen to get some water.  It had been months since he had been there, he thought.  A lot of good things have happened here.

“I really wanted to talk about what happened last time…” she said.

“I know.  I was just waiting for you to bring it up.”

“You don’t seem angry though… which is helping.”

“You know me.  I don’t really stay mad.”

She took a pillow and sat down on the rug and she just looked at him.

“I missed you.  I know you don’t normally reply but you didn’t show up either.  I was beginning to think you hated me.”

“Well…  I am here now, right?  I was… busy.  Soul-searching crap and all.  When you stopped sending messages I did get lonely too, you know.”

“Why didn’t you send any messages then?”

“No load.”

“Bullshit.”

Silence followed.  He just looked at her now, who was staring back at him.  He wanted to avoid this kind of confrontation, really.  The right thing to do was to end this, but he couldn’t keep away either.

“I feel stupid trying to keep this together.  It feels like I am the only one who wants you.” she took a sip of water and set it back down on the side table. “I understand I was the one who made the rules and all… There; I’ll say it first so you don’t bring that shit up on me anymore…” she paused when she noticed that he was fidgeting now, a hand on the side of the pocket.  She stood up and handed him an ash tray.

“Thank you.  You’ve always been the more considerate one.” he said, asking permission to light up and offered her one.  She took a stick and lit one up.

“Fuck the rules…” she took a deep drag and let it out.

“I can’t say that I understand how you feel really.  You and me together like this escapes me.  I ain’t rich or handsome or anything.  I am messy and vulgar, and I smoke and I seem to have every little thing that irks you.  I laid out my cards about my other women and still, here you are.  It defies logic, really.”

“Do you really want to know how I feel?” she asked.

“Please, enlighten me.  Put me in your shoes.” he replied.

She stood up and put out the cigarette.

“I’m not to good with words… but do you trust me?”

“Yes, I do.” he replied, lighting another cigarette up.

She walked over to her dresser and produced a razor.  Apparently, her husband owned it.  He just looked at her, curious and anxious at the same time.  Thoughts ran through his head on what she might do with it.  Slash her wrists perhaps?  Slit his throat?  His love for the dramatic gave him all sorts of images he didn’t want to think about at the moment. She got some shaving cream and a clean towel and went towards him now.

She knelt down in front of him and unbuckled his belt.

“Seriously?” he asked.

“Trust me, please.” she said.  Her eyes were saying a lot of things now.

Having a girl go after your privates with a razor was very uncomfortable but he obliged, choosing to trust her.

She pulled down his pants and underwear and put them away beside her.  He watched her.  She was looking at it.  “Hairy.  God, you really aren’t as neat as you used to be.” commenting on the growing forest.

“You still smell nice though, oddly enough.” she took his member in to her mouth and sucked on it like she always did.

He moved against the couch in anticipation.  It was awkward sight: she had a razor on the other hand as she was giving him a blowjob. He knows he had hurt this woman, and yet he can prevent his hard on from taking over.

“It is harder to shave it when it is all soft, you know…” she said, looking at him.  Her face was a mix of anxiety and sadness.  She applied the cream and started shaving him carefully.

“How can I put it?  There is this fear that takes over.” close to the skin, the blade went, slicing through his pubes in a delicate fashion.  True enough, he was afraid.  She could cut him if she wanted to, and yet she didn’t.

It was a mix of fear and want. He could feel the slight tug and the cold touch of the blade as he was shaved.  His hard on was very strong as she maneuvered the blade around the stem of his cock.  Catching all the hair, cutting them in the process.

“It is a mix of fear and anxiety.  To know that this person can hurt you in ways that you can’t recover from.”  she kissed the tip.  Their eyes meet.  The blade stopped, the sharp side pointing at the stem now.

“It is like a blade running through the most sensitive regions of your soul and yet… it excites you…” she clutched his penis firmly and let it rest, facing him.  She pulled at the flesh on the ball sack, and applied some more cream and continued shaving him.

“It leaves you wondering when the hatchet will fall.  You wonder what he will do to you next, and yet, you trust this person not to.” he has never shaved his balls before.  Trimmed them to a comfortable length, yes… but never so close to the skin.

“It drives you crazy.  In the end, you don’t get hurt.” there was something about her voice as she said her piece.  It was like halfway in between a whisper and a conversational tone.  A monologue in a radio station like some DJ on her love program.

It was sending shivers all throughout his body.  He tried in vain to stop himself from squirming.  He couldn’t really understand what she was trying to do.

The message was clear though.

She finished with his entire nether-region, including the hair around his ass. It was a bit overboard, but he felt like he could understand her more now.  She gently cleaned him up with the towel and went straight to the kitchen sink.

He was looking at himself now… no wounds. It felt sensitive and nude.  He felt exposed and vulnerable.  He looked at her now in a different light.  There had been times that the knowledge that she was married didn’t matter… many times it did.

This one was one of those moments that it didn’t matter… and his hard-on didn’t go away either.  All he could do was stroke the part where his pubes used to be… and it kind of felt like a cactus.

“Your turn.” she said, handing him the razor, towel and cream.

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