The Black Widow

Last night started innocently. I was meeting a new friend at the eighteenth street lounge for drinks, a mutual friend of ours introduced us.

We sat together and drank. Talked. Enjoyed the time with someone new and like minded. Champagne was my drink of the night. I smoked my entire pack of cigarettes with help from my new friend and some woman at the bar. Somehow, smiled pretty enough to have my gorgeous bartender top off my champagne now and again.

Pretty soon, I was indisputably drunk.

Things were still easy and cool. But, when the gorgeous buff persian came to return my hair clip, this is when the evening took the inevitable plunge for the worse.

You know, fortunately, or unfortunately, this one is engaged. And in my opinion he shouldn't be. Last time we hung out, I saw the license that said 1984, and I was born in 1978. If I am too young to get married, then he sure as shit is too. That's my opinion, but who am I to tell him what to do?

I am not like most women, who get huffy and offended when someone who is otherwise attached hits on them. But, I don't particularly like to encourage it either. Its the karma that gets me, aiding and abbetting. My new friend observes my obvious attraction to the other guy and starts to make tracks. "I'm outta here," he says.

What motivates us to take certain actions and reactions? Should I have let him go? I didn't.

Instead, I shifted my attention to this new boy. Shifted my energy of attraction. Shifted my ability to seduce over to this kind, platonic innocent interaction. Both are asking me if I need a ride home, or if I'll be ok with this other guy. For a split second I really celebrate this attention. I'm standing here in a bar, and two hot blooded men are both completely focused on me.

Gorgeous Persian hunk goes to his car, giving me a moment to focus again on new white boy. Comes back with my hair clip and asks again if I want a ride home. I know I am going to be all over him if I take him up on it. I should've known that I was a time bomb in a body at that point. Sent them both home, but in that moment, I wanted to bring both of them over. Somewhere in my brain I think that this would be the best way to solve the conflict. True to form this comes out of my mouth and my new friend starts making tracks again. I grab onto him, and feel panicked. No! I'll fall into the trap of carnal desire! Mustn't make out with engaged boys! I use all of my will power to say good bye to gorgeous Persian hunk. Pay my tab and let my new friend take me home, biting my knuckles the whole way to the car.

The decision to go home with the new white guy over the engaged Persian one seemed logical. It was the right, adult thing to do. And my decision making skills at this point are hazy at best. Even I didn't know or expect what was going to happen in a few hours, but man. I should've. I've seen this movie a million times before.

We go inside and smoke. I pull out these crabs that my older Persian brought for me. Start eating crabs and talking. Again. I found this safe space of non sexual time together. Found myself beautiful, enjoying his company, not trying to be sexy, or interesting or smart, not particularly trying for anything. I felt all those things already. We go out for a cigarette, after he's said he's leaving a few times. I know he doesn't want to, so I urge him to stay. We were both smart in that hazy plunge towards bad decisions, we both understood that this wasn't the place for it, for this sexual overture, at all. We respected each other.

So of course, as I'm getting sleepy, I invite him to stay. And of course, he wants to but doesn't want to.
This is an announcement. Autopilot entrapment has been switched on. The black widow has a fly in her nest, and is about to consume it.

I tell him that I understand his hesitation, and that the obvious right decision is for him to go home, but why can't two bodies just connect? That we would just sleep. And since I make a case for it, I am now invested. My energy is focused on it. Almost a sense of self worth starts to ride on whether or not he will stay. Will he buckle?

He is perceptive. He says, "I want to, but for some reason I want to keep it from you."
I sit silently. Looking down.
And then
"But of course I'll give it to you."

My face changed. I didn't know it until he pointed out that my mouth, one side of it, curled up to my eye, like the joker.
It was strong feedback.

Because that is what it was. I caught you. You've succumbed. You have now entered the twilight zone.

I get into pajama pants, and a red tank top as I get ready for bed. Pad around my apartment in baggy ladybug pajamas, then I think better of it and switch over to blue cotton underwear. I usually don't wear clothes to sleep, but when guest are over, I do. This whole time is smattered with hesitating almost departures by my friend. Honestly, now I just feel bad. I should have let him go home.
We lay down.

There's is something that happens to a mans body when he lays down with a woman. He on his back, me in the dip of his shoulder, still innocent, push my hair up, get comfortable, fidgit, adjust, and now, I'm falling asleep. He has me wrapped. He's thinner. I don't like the way he smells up close. He feels vulnerable. I want to honor this body, I hug him, but my mind darts to Reza.. A moment of remorse about the fact that I am with someone else right now. And two nights ago. And a few nights before that. What it means that he hasn't called. A pang of I wish this was him. Like birds flying, a few more thoughts, I am relaxed in and aaaaalmost asleep when

the CD starts skipping. Goddamnit.

He gets up to change it and then comes back. This time we lay on our sides, my back to his front. His hands want to roam, but they don't. He kisses my neck. Pushes into my ass. He's slowly moving, enough to keep me awake. I want to be touched, but I don't want to be licked, and I tell him so. He finds it strange. I flip around on my back.. And things progress even further. His hands start roaming my body. I shudder when he hits my nipples, that's all I wanted him to do... But after sucking on one, then the other, then back to the first, he continues to kiss down my stomach, approaching my blue underwear, licking around it, and eventually pulling it off. As he does, I say, "you don't want to do that" and he answers "I don't?" And I don't know what made me not care. I felt like he's probably ok, and hopefully I am too. I have these scenarios often, and stay good at keep things at a safe level of play, but when I get too trashed, I am a little more sloppy about it. And last nite was one of those nights.

He's slow and meticulous. It felt good, I tried to relax, almost got far a few times, and then of course, as usual, I didn't get off, because well.. I just don't with strangers it seems. After what feels like forever, he finally finally seems to gain enough strength to walk away from me. I'm naked and sleepy. I know when I get to this point I am cute, and implored him to just lick me a little more.. And he does, and tells me how I taste good. Looks at me and says, "that wasn't too painful was it..."

I shake my head, "no, it was really nice." As soon as he leaves I grab my vibrator and give myself a clean quick orgasm, it takes all of 2 minutes.

Its depressing to write this. I don't know what the deal is, as if the fact that I can get someone to that point means something? As if I am powerful? I feel awful. Sex drives me crazy.

I need a boyfriend, p r o n t o.