leah boston 2018 she doesn't take it well. she's chucking hysterics in my direction, trying her best to nail me between the eyes. she's not that kind of woman, she tells us both. "how could i?" "my first woman and she's married." "oh, fuck. what will your husband think?" i can't hold back. a deep scoff escapes my throat while i help myself to the pack of salems in her prada, digging for a lighter even though the fire in her eyes could set my whole hand ablaze. "i'm married to a woman," i mumble. one of her cigarettes is dangling from my dry mouth and i'm struggling to get a spark going. i catch my reflection in an ornate mirror and suddenly my attention is pulled to her sobbing behind me. i turn to her, my face cloaked in a similar sort of distress. "i seem like i'd marry a man?" i don't know why i find this quite offensive, but i do. was i shite? eva boston 2017 her perfume smells like it came from walgreens. the odor is disrespectful, and i feel blessed when the scent of sweat begins to drown it out. i'll take putrid over just plain cheap. the way she's nipping at my neck makes it seem like she hasn't eaten in days. she's starving, and i'm just picking about. she notices the gold band fused to the skin of my ring finger. her round eyes full of naivety have suddenly gone dark. she takes my finger into her mouth, the jagged edges of her uneven teeth dragging the ring over my knuckle, over my nail. there's a pause, and i'm horrified she's going to choke. she spits it somewhere onto the rug in a clump of her saliva. hm. bit gross. | kara new york 2016 "you told me you loved me, ari. that you're leaving her- please. don't do this to us, please." pfft us. the way her is mouth is curling around her theatrical wailing is oddly comical. dreadfully unattractive, but somehow amusing nonetheless. christ- the begging. i'm doing my best impression of a compassionate human- my show-stopping performance as someone who gives a fat shite. "but i do love you. oh, darling, c'mere," i’m lying in my most luxurious of tones- a smooth velvet wrapped in cashmere. i bring her into a comforting embrace, my hands caging her safely against my body. she's in a state of frenzy. oh, come the fuck on. josephine new york 2016 we're suddenly afraid to look each other in the eye. unlike us honestly. the first few times we'd gone through this, we were masters of nonchalance. picking up where we usually left off, ordering a meal and watching television as if we weren't trying to suffocate each other with each other's mouths an hour earlier. best mates. i know i should collect my explosion of clothing from her floor, but moving away from her warm body seems like a strange concept. instead, i ask to bum cigarette and she tells me she's fresh out. it's a monster in the room, the lingering smell of us. ha us. it's best if i go. "i'll tell my wife you say hello." a horrible bloody joke. it falls flat on its back, right where it belongs- with the wind knocked out of it. "love you, joey." she scoffs at me, lighting up a smoke she’s plucked from her drawer. fucker. "love you too, ari." | . . ✫ . · ✧ ˚ ✧ · ⋆ . * * · · · · ✧ · ✧ ˚ ⊹ . ✧  ˚ ✧ · . ˚ + · · ˚ . ⋆ ✫ · . ✧ ˚ ˚ . · . ˚ ˚ · ⊹ * ˚ * . . ✫ . · |
