patrice

[NoN] Fiction 4 : Get In The Car

I had just gotten out of my relationship with the gender confused guy. I was ready to accept anyone with a vagina.

I met her at a fetish party. She was alone at a table. It was obviously her first time there. From across the place, in the dark, she seemed to be the cutest girl in the city. She wasn't.

It was the first time I approached someone by myself. The night went well, we danced. I don't remember if we kissed that night but, when it was time to leave, the first sign of crazyness appeared. She ran towards me, grabbed me and with her arms around my waist, held me saying she really wanted to see me again. REALLY needed to.

I giggled, made my way to the bar and somehow ,without falling, wrote my number and left the club running half naked to grab a cab.

We had a date at a caf, it didn't click. We had nothing in commun, she was studying in construction, I was (not) studying (???) We decided to meet each other again. I didn't care. I accepted. I brought her home. She had nice abs. I had something positive to focuss on.

While we were making out, she started to compliment me about something.
Fact : I hate compliments.
My parents never gave me any and I am now unable to take them. If I give someone a compliment I deeply mean it. It usualy comes out of my mouth really wrong, I blush and look like I'm hiding something.
There's the unspoken rule with sex that if your partner compliments you while you are moaning with pleasure, you are suppose to say something nice back.

- Heum You have great abs.

She went on with compliements. I went on with feeling like shit and blushing. My blushing wasn't beacuase I was flattered from what she was telling me, I was blushing because I was ashamed I couldn't respond. I am also practicly unable to lie and if I am forced to, it usualy turns out horibly. I started to giggle and moan stronger : to fool her into thinking I couldn't talk because of what she was physicly doing to me.

I had sex with her once. She invited me to her house. She cooked. It was healty. We made out in the kitchen. She pushed me on the fridge's door. I had magnets on my butt. We watched a movie. Our bodies just didn't fit. We kept moving on the couch to find a good spot, we didn't. When we went to bed there was a baseball bat next to her pillow.

- Why do you have a bat in your bed?
- In case someone breaks in.
- Break in your one and a half, in longueil on the fifth floor?

All I was thinking is : Shit, what if that bad is to beat me up in my sleep!

I didnt have time to give it much thought. She started her thing without any kind of warning.
I love older woman, but I have a phobia : I fear papery skin. I am totaly grossed out by the skin of old women that is all thin, dry and fragile. She was thirty three and she already had that type of skin.
There was no way I was going to put my head down there. NO WAY!
To add to my pleasure, she sweated like crazy. I am already someone who sweats so by the two of us her bed became tottaly gross.

Within two weeks she had taken the habit of calling me every morning and night. She was telling her friends she had never been that happy, she started to buy clothes like mine. I started to think something might be wrong.

The final night of our relationship I took her to another fetish night, we had made plans for me to go sleep to her place, afterwards.
She didn't say a single word to me the whole night. We had just spent the day together, we had had some fun. I didn't get why she was ignoring me. I didn't really care. I'd find someone else. When I was ready to leave, I told her I was going home. She didn't see it that way.

- You can't go home, she screamed. You said you were coming to my place.
- Well, you ignored me all night, why would I go with you?
- You said you would come. You HAVE to come.

Something was officially wrong. I left the club, rushed into a cab. There was traffic so the cab didn't leave right away. The cab driver and I saw her jumping down the stairs, running towards us screaming. She got to the car's door and started hitting it. The cab driver obviously got panicked, I felt safe in the cab. He wanted to call the police, I wanted him to drive. He drove off, she ran after us hitting the car, yelling for me to get out and come with her.

She called non stop on my cell all night. I close dit. The next morning, my voicemail was full of her begging me to go back to her.
She texted me later saying some guy had beaten her up that night. I didn't believe her.
I saw her a week later in the metro with a broken leg. I felt a bit responsible.
She now comes to almost every party I go to.
We ignore each other.