The fucking whore

My heart was racing faster than ever. I feared what would happen if it crossed a certain speed limit. Right here, lost in this moment, yet completely aware of every infinitesimal detail, I feared the time, not when my racing heart would push the limit and burst out of my chest, but when it would stop running wildly, stop desiring and most of all, stop fearing. I feared the time when this moment would come to an end. And now that I can see the end looming closer with every beat of my heart, I'm angry on myself for wasting my time in fear of things which are and have never been in my control at all.

Desperation overpowered me. I put everything of myself into this moment to make it memorable and strong enough to make it difficult to move on from, with a flickering light of hope still burning, somewhere...

I had closed the window to all my senses. What was truly alive for me was his hands cupping my cheeks, his tongue moving with mine, his body pressed against mine and his uncontrolled enthusiasm which was driving me crazy, making me want too.

I pushed him onto the wall and pressed my body urgently into his, curving one of my legs over his waist. I moved my hands towards his sweaty neck and to his hair. I bit his ear and then moved on to licking his lips with my tongue. Sensing my desperation, he pressed his body even closer to mine, holding my waist, moving his mouth rhythmically against mine. I could see all the barriers breaking down, the protective shell around me disappearing into the air, the line of limits blurring away. I could see me crossing all the borders today.

We kissed. Deeply. Passionately. Our bodies intertwined, it felt like one body and two souls. It felt like heaven.

Slowly, he started moving his hands upwards, under my t-shirt. I hesitated, pulling my mouth back from his and place my hands on his stopping him from moving any further. He looked at my hand and then at my face. He raised on eyebrow at me and I bit my lip.

Why was I holding back now, I thought. This is stupid. I love him. I want him. He wants me too.

He pulled his hand back and started to retreat. No, that wasn't happening. I panicked. And without thinking twice I grabbed his hand and pushed him on the bed. I started undoing the buttons of his shirt and then the night flew by in darkness, the sound of our breaths and moans punctuating our bliss and togetherness.

Morning came so suddenly, last night felt like a vivid dream. Sunlight was warming my naked back. A stream of emotions were coursing through me - happiness, dizziness, a sense of freedom, a little embarrassment and a silly happy grin which was stuck on my face stubbornly. After half an hour in bed, reliving, savoring and fixing to memory each and every moment of last night, I started to search for my clothes. They were strewn everywhere. Oh. My. God. Thank God he wasn't in the room.

Just when I was collecting my clothes, a glint of silver caught my eye. A silver photo frame was poking out from beneath his cupboard. I picked it up and what I saw finally switched the silly grin off from my face.

It was him, standing hand in hand with a pretty, unknown girl. Their eyes locked on each other, their smiles reflecting their happiness. My face heated up, tears clouded my vision and my hand started trembling. I knew a big flood was on its way and started to dress hastily, wanting nothing else but to leave this place this instance. I picked up all my things and ran towards the exit. Just when I was passing the kitchen, his voice echoed, "Good morning, babe!"

A wave of fury ran through me and before I could help it I was walking towards him, my body shaking with anger and balling up my fist, I gave him a neat punch on his face once, twice, thrice. Satisfied, I turned my back on him, for forever. But he grabbed my wrist and shouted in my ears, "What the fuck, bitch?"

I yanked my hand from his grasp and bellowed back, "Shut the fuck up, you dog... you two-timing asshole!" and stalked off leaving him gob-smacked, cupping his cheeks in pain.

Just when I was entering the lift, I saw her - Her eyes shocked, barely concealing excitement behind them, her lips red, so were her eyes, her hair were messy and impossible. It might have been any other girl he used for benefits, using thoroughly and throwing away once she had served his purpose. It might have been the girl in the photo, smitten by the womanizing bastard. It might have been the same girl from last night; desperate, horny, trying to prove how awesome she could be in bed. It could be the girl who lost her virginity to the fucker whom she would never see again. Or it could be the slut who knew the guy was no good but still gave in. I felt tainted, contaminated. I fixed the girl who was looking back at her from the mirror into my memory - "the fucking whore" and walked towards the staircase away from the lift, the bitch and the creepy claustrophobia.