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The security guard said, 'I'm not bragging but I could have had a threesome tonight. Instead I'm with you and do you know why that is? Because I'm fussy, that's why.' This man is no good in the sack. Therefore it is understandable that Nikita would be looking down at his lovely body and ruined soul and weeping. He said, 'I thought you came already.' 'No, that was just me rolling over to get a cigarette.' He wouldn't make eye contact 'cause that's a bit too deep. He said, 'Suck me.' But even that was half hearted from someone burnt out with nothing to offer. He didn't touch Nikita and she had to ask him to make a cup of tea. No sooner was she out the door, than he rang up his mate and began the bagging. He had to ejaculate like it provided cock relief, switching on a fountain, putting petrol into a car, a rocket taking off and pissing. His mouth switched on and off like an itch as he shot off in front of them both. He did it to himself. Nikita wasn't bothered. It was a dirty sight like a derelict pissing into the corner of a toilet cubicle. She was crying because after four months of having a crush on him, he had become yet another disappointment. He may have thought she was quietly weeping because he was too intense. But she was simply wanting favours and he was taking her to where there wasn't any. Poor Nikita wept because he was hopeless in the sack. So when he next approached her at Blue Heelers with his grey puppy dog eyes and boyish smile, she knew what was behind the guy and all the hype. She got a bit too drunk and warned off all the other women. 'Been there, done that! Oh, he might look cute, but don't go there! That guy can't fuck!'
The next guy was a long-term tourist from down the track. She met him at Discovery. He was wondering whether he had discovered her. He said 'I like mystery and variety. I become bored easily.' He was now a Darwin socialite who enjoyed the company of many people, in fact many men and women. He hated to be alone. So Sunday evening after the big weekend, he had some time to fill in between weariness and sleep. He took Nikita's number. The mystery deepens as she is penetrated. 'I want you,' he says, 'I want you.' She was thinking of his heart and if she wanted it or not. If he mistakes intensity for attachment, he is stupider than she thinks. She keeps an open mind. It's best not to underestimate him. She wonders if he has discovered everything about her. If through licking and fingering her cunt, he had maybe found her essence or all that he needed from Nikita. We needed sex more than mystery and often mistook one for the other. So he never rang her after sex, and there was no way she was going to ring him.
Yet it was she who had to have him, even after she saw him flirt with every other woman in the place, even if just to reject him. She got him and then didn't want him and this had to be done in front of an audience. You think that men are complex? Nikita was more fickle than a different drink in every shout. She walked out with her head high and a smile that said, that after losing everything you were invincible. The next week he rang her on the Sunday. She liked that. It was a great fuck with a lot of eye contact. His wide masculine jaw in her palms and the devil's blue eyes on loan in his skull, looking into her as he sucked each of her fingers down. Tomorrow she thinks she will marry him, in love again for the third time this week. She would marry anyone who gave her a reason to. She would adore people who adored her. But the fling is over now, Nikita. Now you must be sensible and let go of these intense moments. Unless you are living like the insects, birds and flowers, a lost romance is the closest you will ever come to death, at least this weekend. Every beginning has an end. Once in love you have begun the great sad story. You cried out for your dead mother inside your heart, when you heard his heartbeat like a motor. The next day you find out that you fucked the village idiot, but you don't care who knows about it. |
