Clairvoyant Disease

With a shudder, as he fell back onto the bed with me still on him, I woke up. I panted out of control. The feeling of his lips was still lingering on mine. His soft hands, why must I remember how and warm they were as they roamed over my body? It seemed like paradise, but it was really a flat out nightmare covered with cherry topping that I could still taste.

I was a mess, in more ways than one. My clothes were literally drenched in sweat and other bodily fluids, my hair covered half of my face and my sheets were all over the place. I had to look around a few times to convince myself that he had never entered my room; that it never happened. I slowly started putting two and two together. My bed hadn’t been against the wall in a long time, there was no fluffy quilt, I was still dressed and completely differently from the dream… it really was all a dream. A dream I desperately tried to forget but it was all so good: his kisses, his touch, the sweet way he said I love you... I was repulsed by the idea. He could never love me! He’s incapable of feeling something like that for anyone who isn’t himself. I only wander where did my words come from? Why did I tell him I’ve always wanted to hear that? Why did I say I love you, too? Why did my brain play this sick joke on me? Why did it have to be so real?

I peeled myself from the bed, sitting up and stretching my arms over my head as I continued to look around the room. I licked my lips and took deep breaths to fully calm myself down. I gathered the strength to leave the comfort of my bed and step into my bathroom where I could take a very much needed shower.

As I encouraged the suds to wash away the feeling of his hands there was a loud knock on my bedroom’s door. I rolled my eyes and groaned loudly. That did take a bit of my sexual frustration away. It had been so long since I last allowed a man to touch me; the single thought of him doing so had altered my hormones. I wrapped a big magenta towel around my soaped body and carefully rushed out.

“Dude, stop!” I yelled as I opened my door. We stared at each other, the attraction was mutual, no matter how much we disliked each other, over the years it became clear that we wanted each other with a passion that seemed painful and that we had managed to not go through with it was a shocker to some and a lie to most. For some reason, most of our friends thought we fucked like rabbits on a daily basis, claiming that it is impossible to hate someone so much as to put sex behind.

He was in boxers, his muscles glistening with a thin coat of sweat provoked by the L.A. heat and his dislike for air conditioners. He eyed me, up and down, tilting his head. I hid half of my body behind the door, mostly to prevent myself from dropping the towel and jumping over him, no amount of annoyance could take the fact away that it felt good in my dream and I can imagine it feeling better in real life.

“talk Sanders!” I smirked and shook his head;

“Issa’s been calling all fucking morning,” I rolled my eyes;

“I’ll call her when I get my new cel,” I went to close the door to be stopped by his massive soft and talented hand;

“what happened to the one you bought last week? Your pimp take it away?” his only purpose is to piss the living hell out of me, unfortunately, that’s not a talent he has. I chuckled and swallowed hard;

“my cel fell into a Bloody Mary last night and I don’t have a pimp, you should really ask your date about hers, though. If I’m not mistaken she works the corner of Duquesne Avenue,” I pointed at the beaten looking redhead that stumbled her way out of his room with his t-shirt on. He looked over his shoulder at her and when he was about to turn to me I slammed the door on his face and smiled when I heard her ask who the hell I was?. He’s never going to have anything serious with any woman as long as I’m here, even he know that. Still, whenever I leave, he brings me back. The truth of the matter, it sucked to not be important for him. We’ve been close to many things before. I knew exactly what his lips tasted like and how they felt against mine. I remember how his hands can dance on my skin and bring chills that make my entire body shake like magic. I can still feel him, so deep, so strong… we never went on, we never got that close again.

I was dying to go and rip him away from her, have him for myself for an hour, just a meaningless hour. He wouldn’t stop me, I’m sure of that. He would throw that girl out as if nothing happened and stay with me. He’s always wanted it, I’m usually the one to stop it, but now, I need him so bad. I’m sure the ending of that slow beginning a while ago must be so good…