Clarice.
Outside the world's still burning.
So I kiss her and I fuck her and her moans and her warmth makes my head spin and I moan her name over and over again.
And she whimpers, shivers, moans as I go faster without waiting for her to tell me to. Clarice doesn’t say a word, but she’s moaning and bucking her hips up at me and throws her head back, hollow eyes staring up at the ceiling, her lips shaped a perfect ‘o’, while I speed up even more. “F-fucking hell, Clarice. Oh fuck.”, and Clarice says nothing.
A match is struck inside of me and I can feel the fire starting to flame up with hot white sparks and fireworks in ever single colour of the world, but it’s not that far yet.
Clarice closes her hollow eyes and moans louder, but never mentions my name, and I want her to feel this too. She moves with me perfectly and she makes the fireworks start to go off and my entire being feels like it’s near exploding as I go faster than I ever thought was possible and Clarice opens her eyes and looks straight at me with her mouth agape and I want her to feel this too.
Feel. This. Please.
The mindblowing friction causes a heat that is almost unbearable, yet feels so fucking good, and I tell her to look at me, because I want to look at Clarice’s face as I’m near reaching my release, but it’s too overwhelming for me to even keep my eyes open.
“Uhnn, fuck Clarice, f-..” I look down at her and I’m flying and her eyes are wide open with surprise because I have never called her Clarice before and I’m floating and riding it off and it’s amazing and incredible and all my muscles are clenching tight and then they’re not anymore and it makes me weak and it makes me fall on top of her.
She shifts her body from underneath mine and starts to plant tiny kisses on my right temple. Grabs hold of one of her bed sheets and pulls it over us, caresses my cheek with her fingers.
She’s comforting me and I know why. It’s because I’m crying.
And I don’t know why.
I don’t know why and I feel like an idiot and I swallow it all the way back up.
It’s so easy for me to regain my composure.
It’s easy because I know I’ll leave for Los Angeles tomorrow and I’ll never have to look at Clarice’s sad and sorry eyes ever again.
“Wow. That was incredible.” I say, smiling like I’m some kind of jock that gets to fuck girls all the time.
She knows I have to leave her before she falls apart again, because she knows I can’t stand seeing her fall apart again. She usually makes me leave before it happens, but not today.
I lean back up at my elbows and start to look around for my clothes when she takes hold of my arm.
“Please lay with me for a while. Please. I need this. Please.” It doesn’t even sound like she’s begging me. It sounds like she’s asking me something completely normal, something she has the right to ask for. And she does, too.
But I’m a prick and I’m terrified of being around her when she falls apart again, so I tell her I have to leave. Because I have to get up early in the morning. Because I’m leaving with my band. To Los Angeles.
She’s so good with people disappointing her. She nods her head like she understands. Like she buys it. Like I’m not an asshole.
Clarice has the biggest heart in the world, except for she’s selfish.
So we get up and get dressed and I give her a hug and tell her I’ll be back before she knows it.
Clarice looks at me with not-so-hollow eyes now.
Because Clarice has a plan and it makes her feel less empty.
“I won’t be here when you get back.” she tells me, in all seriousness.
“Oh, well send me a postcard from where you’ll be, then.” I’m grinning and I’m completely dodging the entire situation and I’m completely pretending that I’m failing to see the reality of it. But she knows that I fully know what she means. Because I am in too deep now. And she knows it.
Clarice’s face falls and she slaps me hard in the face with one flat hand, her not-so-hollow eyes glimpsing dangerously and her mouth forming a perfect straight line.
I turn on my heels and walk out the door, leaving Clarice in a house with the lights out and the curtains open when it’s after 1 AM. I have to leave right now, because Clarice is starting to fall apart again, because her eyes are filling up with tears and I have to get up early in the morning.
Clarice is the first girl that has ever slapped me across the face. I am the first guy Clarice ever had sex with and Clarice is the only person in the world I think about more than I think about myself.
That is what I keep thinking about when I lie in bed that night and also the next morning, when I carry my suitcases to my car that is parked on our side of the driveway. I think of Clarice slapping me one across the face as I hug my mom and shake hands with my old man and get in my car and back all the way up across the street and make my way to the airport.
I half-expect to find a missed call or a text from her on the display of my mobile as we walk through the luggage hall of LAX.
But there are none.
I know I left Clarice in a mess, but I don’t really mind.
I don’t have feel responsible about Clarice’s state of mind.
Because Clarice is not my family, not my friend and not my girlfriend.
So I don’t worry about it. Not too much.
And she whimpers, shivers, moans as I go faster without waiting for her to tell me to. Clarice doesn’t say a word, but she’s moaning and bucking her hips up at me and throws her head back, hollow eyes staring up at the ceiling, her lips shaped a perfect ‘o’, while I speed up even more. “F-fucking hell, Clarice. Oh fuck.”, and Clarice says nothing.
A match is struck inside of me and I can feel the fire starting to flame up with hot white sparks and fireworks in ever single colour of the world, but it’s not that far yet.
Clarice closes her hollow eyes and moans louder, but never mentions my name, and I want her to feel this too. She moves with me perfectly and she makes the fireworks start to go off and my entire being feels like it’s near exploding as I go faster than I ever thought was possible and Clarice opens her eyes and looks straight at me with her mouth agape and I want her to feel this too.
Feel. This. Please.
The mindblowing friction causes a heat that is almost unbearable, yet feels so fucking good, and I tell her to look at me, because I want to look at Clarice’s face as I’m near reaching my release, but it’s too overwhelming for me to even keep my eyes open.
“Uhnn, fuck Clarice, f-..” I look down at her and I’m flying and her eyes are wide open with surprise because I have never called her Clarice before and I’m floating and riding it off and it’s amazing and incredible and all my muscles are clenching tight and then they’re not anymore and it makes me weak and it makes me fall on top of her.
She shifts her body from underneath mine and starts to plant tiny kisses on my right temple. Grabs hold of one of her bed sheets and pulls it over us, caresses my cheek with her fingers.
She’s comforting me and I know why. It’s because I’m crying.
And I don’t know why.
I don’t know why and I feel like an idiot and I swallow it all the way back up.
It’s so easy for me to regain my composure.
It’s easy because I know I’ll leave for Los Angeles tomorrow and I’ll never have to look at Clarice’s sad and sorry eyes ever again.
“Wow. That was incredible.” I say, smiling like I’m some kind of jock that gets to fuck girls all the time.
She knows I have to leave her before she falls apart again, because she knows I can’t stand seeing her fall apart again. She usually makes me leave before it happens, but not today.
I lean back up at my elbows and start to look around for my clothes when she takes hold of my arm.
“Please lay with me for a while. Please. I need this. Please.” It doesn’t even sound like she’s begging me. It sounds like she’s asking me something completely normal, something she has the right to ask for. And she does, too.
But I’m a prick and I’m terrified of being around her when she falls apart again, so I tell her I have to leave. Because I have to get up early in the morning. Because I’m leaving with my band. To Los Angeles.
She’s so good with people disappointing her. She nods her head like she understands. Like she buys it. Like I’m not an asshole.
Clarice has the biggest heart in the world, except for she’s selfish.
So we get up and get dressed and I give her a hug and tell her I’ll be back before she knows it.
Clarice looks at me with not-so-hollow eyes now.
Because Clarice has a plan and it makes her feel less empty.
“I won’t be here when you get back.” she tells me, in all seriousness.
“Oh, well send me a postcard from where you’ll be, then.” I’m grinning and I’m completely dodging the entire situation and I’m completely pretending that I’m failing to see the reality of it. But she knows that I fully know what she means. Because I am in too deep now. And she knows it.
Clarice’s face falls and she slaps me hard in the face with one flat hand, her not-so-hollow eyes glimpsing dangerously and her mouth forming a perfect straight line.
I turn on my heels and walk out the door, leaving Clarice in a house with the lights out and the curtains open when it’s after 1 AM. I have to leave right now, because Clarice is starting to fall apart again, because her eyes are filling up with tears and I have to get up early in the morning.
Clarice is the first girl that has ever slapped me across the face. I am the first guy Clarice ever had sex with and Clarice is the only person in the world I think about more than I think about myself.
That is what I keep thinking about when I lie in bed that night and also the next morning, when I carry my suitcases to my car that is parked on our side of the driveway. I think of Clarice slapping me one across the face as I hug my mom and shake hands with my old man and get in my car and back all the way up across the street and make my way to the airport.
I half-expect to find a missed call or a text from her on the display of my mobile as we walk through the luggage hall of LAX.
But there are none.
I know I left Clarice in a mess, but I don’t really mind.
I don’t have feel responsible about Clarice’s state of mind.
Because Clarice is not my family, not my friend and not my girlfriend.
So I don’t worry about it. Not too much.