(note for my sister, or anyone else who doesn't like sex stuff: there is a little of that in this story)
Scratched lips and hateful eyes, begging to be punched or kissed.
"Chapstick," I say to her. "You should look into it."
"Eating shit," she says to me. "You should look into that."
I guess I deserved that. I could have started our conversation out a little more civil. But fuck her. She doesn't deserve civil any more than I do. We're both lost. Losers.
"Why are you here?" I ask her, opening the door and standing back, allowing her in.
"Because I didn't have anything else to do," she says, pushing past me. "I'm bored, I'm drunk, and you can eat pussy better than anyone else I know."
"Doesn't mean I'm going to."
"No, but I figured I might as well risk it, just in case you would. Like I said--I didn't have anything else to do." She smiles that evil sexy smile, the one that I dream about, when I don't see her for a while. The one I curse when I do see her. "Besides, you know you want to go down on someone. Might as well be me."
"You're such an asshole," I tell her, as I go to the kitchen to fill up my coffee cup. "You show up like this, fulfill your carnal needs, and then vanish again."
"Most guys would be ecstatic with that kind of relationship."
"Most guys aren't in love with you. You want coffee?"
"Yes, they are. And yes, I do."
"Most guys are in love with the way you fuck. I'm the only one cursed to actually be in love with you as a person."
"Six of one, half a dozen of the other."
I add sugar to her coffee, and just a little cream. The exact way she likes it, because I've always been really good about giving her exactly what she wants. "You're such a bitch."
"You've known this about me."
"I'm still amazed, though. You know how I feel about you, you know what it does to me when you stop by like this. And you do it, anyway. It's a whim to you, a fun evening. Most people, even though they would want the head, they'd be too guilty about the way it tears me up."
"Well, most people are missing out, then--you give really good head."
"Not tonight, I don't," I say, passing the cup to her.
She takes a sip and sighs. "Really good. You make coffee almost as well as you eat pussy." Dirty talk, trying to turn me on, stacking the deck in her favor.
I sit down on the couch across the room. "Enjoy it, then, because that's all you're leaving with."
She takes another sip and smiles. That evil sexy smile. "Do you really believe that?"
"I really want to."
"Doesn't count as an answer."
"Is it that hard to love me?" I ask her. "I mean, I know I'm not perfect. But we get along good, we have great sex, and whatever goals we have in life, they're pretty similar. So why not? Why not love me?"
"Is it that hard to love you? Yeah, man, it is. Is it because of anything you've done or anything you haven't done? No. If I was gonna love someone, you'd be the guy I chased. But that's not my thing, man. I've told you that from the very start, so I don't feel bad. Do I feel guilty about coming over for a quick lay, even though it hurts you? No. Because you don't have to answer the door. You could peek out, see it was me, and then wait until I leave."
I did that once, and I think we both know it. She knocked for a little bit, and then staggered back to her car and drove away. I spent the rest of the night wondering about who number two on the list was. Because she didn't go home. When she wants action, she wants action, which means she'll look until she finds it.
I told myself it was done, then, that I'd never have anything to do with her, ever again. But the next time she came over, I opened the door, because although the idea of giving myself to her was horrible, the idea of someone else doing it was even worse.
"Please," I say. "Please, just give me a chance to be something more in your life. Please give me a chance to convince you that love can be worth it. That's all I'm asking."
She lights up a cigarette. "No."
I sigh, and light up a cigarette of my own. "Take off your fuckin' pants, then."