Tainted Love
Tainted love
My eyes roamed the crowed room, flitting over the eccentric and the odd that congregated in this dingy late night bar and settled on the tall man propped up at the bar, dressed in back with pale skin and painted arms. I watched as he lent down to the young girl with long hair and a short shirt stood next to him to speak into her ear over the pounding music and my stomach seemed to flip as I wondered whether she was his type. I tipped forgetful ice cubes from my empty glass into my mouth and focused on the painful cold until they numbed my tongue. The man from the bar slipped into the seat opposite me, laying our drinks down on the table, “You took your time” I observed, watching him closely for his response. His mismatched eyes met mine and his mouth twitched, threatening to smile “yeah, some hot girl started flirting with me at the bar.” Marilyn can be a real ass sometimes. It’s all his whoring about that’s made me so insecure and he seems to enjoy adding fuel to my fearful fire. I took a large gulp of my drink and looked away over his shoulder.
It started off on the stage, Marilyn and I. The crowd liked to watch him kissed me or touch me or dragged me around by my hair. Always rough and brutal, he would be the one to initiate physical contact and the one in charge of how far things went. As time went by our antics extended to our private lives and became more passionate, sensitive and serious. But for me it really started long before the public performances. Marilyn was easy to fall for. “Get a grip Jordie,” Marilyn’s low growl hauled me back from my thoughts “possessiveness is really unattractive.” I tried to push ugly thoughts about Marilyn and the girl away and as we talked about the band and our recent gigs I felt myself starting to relax. But when I noticed Marilyn’s attention wondering and his eyes unashamedly crawling over the young girl again as she passed our table on the way to the toilet nausea washed over me and prompted me to swallow the rest of my whiskey. Resurrecting my walls and pushing my anger back down inside me I slipped on my jacket. “I’m not really feeling it tonight, I’m gonna head back to the hotel” I informed Marilyn in a steady but flat voice. His hand moved to stroke his soft black hair as he looked up at me, suddenly unsure as I stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow” I said quietly before starting to make my way across the bar towards the empty night.
This is how things get between us after too much time passes without intimacy, Jordie getting needy and me getting cruel. I became engrossed in my glass as the girl passed by again, willing her not to stop; it had all been for Jordies’ benefit and I had no interest in her. It gave me pleasure to exert control over his emotions and some days he was as fragile as spun sugar. I liked to wind him up and watch him go. He would he back at his hotel room now searching for leftover drugs that might be lying around or emptying the minibar. Unlike me, quiet Jordie didn’t lose his temper but instead turned his anger in wards and went into self-destruct mode. I waited a little while longer in the bar, I intended to go back to Jordie’s room but didn’t want it to appear that I was in any rush to do so.
Outside the hotel room I knocked loudly and waited impatiently to be let in but the door remained closed and the room silent. I began to root in my pockets for the spare key that Jordie had surrendered earlier in the week and after finding it slipped it into the lock and entered the room. He lay on the double bed, fully dress atop the white sheets with a half drank bottle of whiskey in his arms. I sat down on the bed and proceeded to unlace his cumbersome black boots, slip them off his feet and drop them noisily to the wooden floor. Jordie’s eyes ghosted open and I moved closer to him unwrapping the bottle from his arms and placing it on the bedside table. Lying on the bed in his dress with his dreadlocks snaking around his pales face I wanted to touch him. I gathered him up and hoisted him into a sitting position so that I could hold him but he remained like a rag doll in my arm. Lifting his face to mine I looked into his unfocused eyes, as deep and dark as the ocean and felt anger ripple through my body. I hated it when he hid from me in alcohol or drugs or just deep down within his own unfathomable depths. I slapped hard around the face but despite the reddening handprint he did not respond. Gripping his soft hair I cranked his neck at an impossible angle and bite down hard on the sensitive point where his neck joins his shoulder. There is something about Jordies unresponsive body that turned me on and when he finally stirred in my arms I relax my grip on his hair and trace a line on kisses up his neck to his cheek. “You hurt me” he whispers into my hair. “I know I did” was the only reply that I could give.
It started off on the stage, Marilyn and I. The crowd liked to watch him kissed me or touch me or dragged me around by my hair. Always rough and brutal, he would be the one to initiate physical contact and the one in charge of how far things went. As time went by our antics extended to our private lives and became more passionate, sensitive and serious. But for me it really started long before the public performances. Marilyn was easy to fall for. “Get a grip Jordie,” Marilyn’s low growl hauled me back from my thoughts “possessiveness is really unattractive.” I tried to push ugly thoughts about Marilyn and the girl away and as we talked about the band and our recent gigs I felt myself starting to relax. But when I noticed Marilyn’s attention wondering and his eyes unashamedly crawling over the young girl again as she passed our table on the way to the toilet nausea washed over me and prompted me to swallow the rest of my whiskey. Resurrecting my walls and pushing my anger back down inside me I slipped on my jacket. “I’m not really feeling it tonight, I’m gonna head back to the hotel” I informed Marilyn in a steady but flat voice. His hand moved to stroke his soft black hair as he looked up at me, suddenly unsure as I stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow” I said quietly before starting to make my way across the bar towards the empty night.
This is how things get between us after too much time passes without intimacy, Jordie getting needy and me getting cruel. I became engrossed in my glass as the girl passed by again, willing her not to stop; it had all been for Jordies’ benefit and I had no interest in her. It gave me pleasure to exert control over his emotions and some days he was as fragile as spun sugar. I liked to wind him up and watch him go. He would he back at his hotel room now searching for leftover drugs that might be lying around or emptying the minibar. Unlike me, quiet Jordie didn’t lose his temper but instead turned his anger in wards and went into self-destruct mode. I waited a little while longer in the bar, I intended to go back to Jordie’s room but didn’t want it to appear that I was in any rush to do so.
Outside the hotel room I knocked loudly and waited impatiently to be let in but the door remained closed and the room silent. I began to root in my pockets for the spare key that Jordie had surrendered earlier in the week and after finding it slipped it into the lock and entered the room. He lay on the double bed, fully dress atop the white sheets with a half drank bottle of whiskey in his arms. I sat down on the bed and proceeded to unlace his cumbersome black boots, slip them off his feet and drop them noisily to the wooden floor. Jordie’s eyes ghosted open and I moved closer to him unwrapping the bottle from his arms and placing it on the bedside table. Lying on the bed in his dress with his dreadlocks snaking around his pales face I wanted to touch him. I gathered him up and hoisted him into a sitting position so that I could hold him but he remained like a rag doll in my arm. Lifting his face to mine I looked into his unfocused eyes, as deep and dark as the ocean and felt anger ripple through my body. I hated it when he hid from me in alcohol or drugs or just deep down within his own unfathomable depths. I slapped hard around the face but despite the reddening handprint he did not respond. Gripping his soft hair I cranked his neck at an impossible angle and bite down hard on the sensitive point where his neck joins his shoulder. There is something about Jordies unresponsive body that turned me on and when he finally stirred in my arms I relax my grip on his hair and trace a line on kisses up his neck to his cheek. “You hurt me” he whispers into my hair. “I know I did” was the only reply that I could give.