Tuesday, November 10, 2009
based on a true story (AKA "The Break-Up Song")
The sound of some annoying song chirped from her mobile phone. At least that’s what he thought when it erupted in digital melody sometime around midnight.
Her heart sank. She already knew who it was. But she put on a show for his benefit anyway, dramatically sighing as she sat up to check the message. She held the sheet over her breasts, but he pulled it away and began sucking on her left nipple.
The message glowed ominously in the bedroom dark.
“Please let me know if you’re ever in need of a cuddle-buddy over there.”
She’d been receiving messages from her ex for weeks now. To call them ironic would be a terrible understatement.
From the moment she’d sat across from him in the Thai restaurant and shakily but resolutely informed him that enough was enough and it was time for them to take a break, she’d wanted him back.
And she tried. Phone call, emails, text messages, you name it. She barraged him on a daily basis, asking to get together. For dinner, a movie, sex.
He was kind of shell-shocked the entire time. Granted, the relationship had gone to shit, and it was mostly his fault. Between the stress of trying to maintain his precarious position at work on top of keeping a very Jewish, very marriage/baby-obsessed girlfriend even a little happy had taken a heavy toll.
Their rambunctious sex life (there was the now-infamous 8 times in a 24 hour period, which she’d bragged to her girls about for months) had shriveled down to cold, silent dinners punctuated with stilted, tear-filled arguments about why the fuck won’t you just marry me already, you fucking bastard?
So when she brazenly announced a ‘break’ the moment dinner arrived in the middle of that vast restaurant filled with chattering faces all around them, he kind of checked out.
In his mind, they’d turned a corner. He’d come to grips with the sexual weirdness that had taken hold of their relationship, a sad combination of personal neuroses, sex addiction and childhood trauma. Add her need for him to make it official all but drained any ounce of passion from his side of the fence.
“Oooh look! Baby. Baby. Baby. Baby…”
It had become a scary mantra whenever they got within the vicinity of a human under the age of five. Her eyes would go all glassy and blank, and she repeated the word in a dull monotone until he would finally snap and say something about it. Which, of course, would be fodder for the next round of silence and bitter arguments between not fucking at all anymore.
But he had it all figured out. The secret was getting out of his box. He'd already tried letting women in, but that was disastrous. Like a bad horror movie or something, where a poor girl is trapped in a house of horrors and ends up scarred in her death-defying escape.
If he just said fuck it and gave life a chance, anything was possible. Any kid of his would be the coolest. She was a closet freak, so sex would never have to be an issue.
This all occurred in the two weeks or so since she'd finally given up and now. He must’ve had some kind of goddamned revelation she thought to herself as the lazy nipple-sucking had now moved south and he was licking at her clitoris under the covers. Getting oral had never been a big deal for her, but it made her feel powerful that someone so important was lapping at her pussy while she deflected text messages from her ex.
She’d had some help getting over him. After that one fashion show on Wilshire she went home with (REDACTED) and his friend to their bungalow at the Chateau Marmont on the promise of cocaine and Patron.
She got so fucked up that she played dumb and had sex with both of them that night. After (REDACTED) fell asleep from some pills she couldn’t identify, she blew his friend in the living room before eventually fucking him, too.
Here she was, in the bed of a famous (REDACTED) who at the time was enthusiastically gobbing all over vagina, while the man she truly loved was trying vainly to get her attention.
“Hey, you down there.”
(REDACTED) stopped what he was doing and looked up at her from under the covers.
“Yeah?” He replied quizzically.
“Where’s the blow?”
He reached over and grabbed a mirror with a sizable pile of white powder and passed it to her. She chopped out three really fat rails.
“Wow. Is one of those for me?” He smiled at her sweetly.
She leaned over the mirror and snorted all three of the rails in one rapid swoosh.
Looking up at him with a smile, she said “No. Now fuck me hard and fast from the back. When you’re going to come, pull out and shoot it all over my back, OK?”
He gave her a funny smile.
She turned around and leaned forward on her knees, pushing her ass high up into the air.
“Do you want me to suck it or can you get hard?”
She looked back at him with a serious face.
His cock was already standing at full attention.
She repositioned herself and said to no one in particular, “Well, have at it then.”