Kiss Me Hard; Damn You!

"I don't like it here.
It smells of death, of sterile people and hearts. As sterile as I once was. Every white gown, every stethoscope, every needle portray the scariest objects I could have ever imagined.

The medicines, that are supposedly helping me, burn my insides with an amazing strength. My deepest want is to be able to grab a hand, the hand of the person that I love most in the whole world. I want to hold on to her...

I'm unable. I'm not strong enough to confess my weakness, and I shall never be.

I mustn't. She will not know. That rose should not wilt beside me. Hopefully, she will not wilt at finding out who he is.

It burns so much.".

It was positively peculiar to have these sensations, with this person.

These sensations were so rare, so blessed, so adored.

But they belonged to her moments with another man.

Not this man.

The young, shy, beautiful man had become almost a permanent client. At the beginning, it was surprising to find him in every hotel room Sebastian told her to go to. Afterwards, it was gorgeous.

She found out his name was Julian. And that was about all.

Everything between them was a strange, overpowering lust, that took advantage of them very often. Rose didn't find it, for a while, too weird that she had only one client, but a loyal one. Sebastian knew best.

Sebastian.

About Sebastian, she felt guilty. Every orgasm she cherished with Julian, the more a painful sentiment of guilt built up on her. She felt guilty, not for having sexual intercourse with another man, but for making love with another man. For enjoying every muscle, every tendon, every scent of that man, of developing, besides a feeling of lust, deeper by the second, a spring-like impression of love.

One morning, after an unhourly meeting with Julian, after they made love, she watched him sit up on the edge of the bed into the young light, as nude as he had been born. His sculpture-like back was perfectly finished until down to his bottom, only partly covered by black silk bedding. Every quality about him seemed idyllic, every way of his being appeared flawless in the bright light, while he did nothing more complicated than smell the special scent of some new books. This fascinated Rose even more.

She was painfully intrigued with the darkness of his manly beauty, with the fog of suffering that seemed to be laid upon his fore-head. His eyes, transparent as could be, tried to tell a story, but they weren't allowed by a mind too powerful to belong to this world. Inside her, down in her core, she could feel the fact that this man was going to be her beautiful tragedy.

The hooker, whom she was, couldn't look herself in the mirror much anymore. She had disappointed herself by falling childly in some kind of spring of love with a man she barely knew. She was guilty of forgetting about Sebastian, her one true love, who hadn't had a private visit with her for at least three months. Julian was now a permanent client, the only one. It was her tragedy to be split up between the love for two men.