Neglect

I haven’t heard from Toppy in weeks. He’s done this before. I send him e-mails. He doesn’t respond. I send him text messages. He doesn’t respond. He knows this is what I hate the most. Neglect. To be treated as if I don’t exist. I am invisible at work. I don’t really have friends. I hang around the dark corners of bars, drinking Guinness and trying not to draw attention to myself.

I’m a regular. But I don’t make conversation with the bartender. Usually. For some reason tonight he insists on talking to me. He’s handsome, not particularly tall, probably mid-twenties. I always enjoy watching him when he’s not looking. His hair is blond-gold. He has peach fuzz over his face. I think about how lovely it would be to rub myself over that fuzz: first my face, then my breasts, then lower down.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I’m  a fool to imagine he’s attracted to me. I’m wearing my office clothes still. I see no point in adding to the laundry pile. I hear him chatting up some dish who looks about his age, maybe a bit younger. I drink my dark beer and return to my book. I’ve developed a crush on James Joyce. I’m reading Ulysses for the third time. The man is magic with language. I lose myself. When my beer is gone, I order another, then another.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough,” the bartender says.

I look up, surprised. I haven’t been counting. But it hasn’t really been that many. I’ve just lost track of time. The bar is empty.

“It’s past last call, hon. Shall I call you a cab?”

I explain that I live just down the street. I drop Ulysses.

The bartender picks it up.

“One of my favourites too. I start reading it every year on June 16.”

I blush.

“You know, you’ve got a very pretty face when you blush,” he says.

I’m a little tipsy but not enough to have lost my inhibitions completely unfortunately. I down the last bit of foam in my pint and scramble to leave.

“Hey, if you wait for me to close, I can walk you. I live nearby too.”

He gives me a wink. He’s so gorgeous.

“Ok,” I say as I fumble with my wallet.

“It’s on the house, love. You’ve been here so often, your tips have been great. I’ll let you have a few on me.”

I clear my throat.

“Gosh that’s so sweet of you.”

There’s a pause as he looks into my eyes.

Fuck, I want this man. What a fool I am. Of course he would never be interested in a woman my age, a clerk, a spinster, a book nerd. He has no idea what a slut I am if ordered to be so and I have no intention of revealing that part of myself to this boy. He’s beautiful. A golden idol. Just for once, I pray to some imaginary god in the sky. Let me have this boy. Let me have this moment.

It’s pouring outside when we leave. I slip on the stupid cobblestones. My neighbourhood is being gentrified. There are even old fashioned lamp posts, for heaven’s sake. He catches me. We turn towards each other. And we kiss. As the rain falls.

We barely make it to my apartment. We keep kissing every few feet. His name is Jay, he tells me in between kisses. He’s a grad student. Another kiss. He’s studying comparative literature. I unlock the door.

Obviously we have to take off all our clothes. They’re wet.

We are still standing in the tiny corridor with my old shoes, a neglected umbrella and junk mail. I manage to steer us over to the bed.

We kiss and we kiss and we kiss and we kiss. Until my lips are sore.

He lies on his back. I caress him gently with fingertips, palm, cupped hand.

I lick his neck. I rub my face over his. I drown in his beauty. I am aroused by the roughness of his cheek against my body. He kisses me all over.

I run my fingers through his golden hair. I kiss down his body until I am between his legs. I stroke his cock with my tongue. Soft, wet caresses along the shaft, around the rim of the head of his cock, around & around. I lick his balls.

Wrap my hands around his cock while I take it in my mouth to make it wet and hard.

I taste the salt of his precum. I rub my face all over his cock. I can’t get enough of his gorgeous cock. Not overly large. Just right. I can fit the entire head in my mouth. This makes him groan. His balls tighten beneath my fingers as I squeeze gently.

I keep licking and stroking while his cock is in my mouth. He comes with a moan. I swallow every drop. We kiss again. I love that he isn’t shy about tasting himself on my lips.

He asks me to lie on my back. He licks my nipples, turning them into stiff little points of desire. He cups my breasts, kisses the side of my neck until he gives me goosebumps, He makes me cry out. He puts his lips against my lower lips, dips his tongue into my cunt which is already so wet for him,

He places a finger on my clit, and asks me what I like. I have a hard time answering at first, but  he insists. I ask him to be slow & gentle.  He scoops the wetness from my cunt and slides it onto my clit. Over and over again. He puts his face over my cunt, slips his tongue inside. Two fingers frame my clit. I can feel it swelling. I’m soaking the bed.

He fucks me gently with his tongue and fingers until I come. He kisses me.

I can taste myself on him. We take a break. I’m so fucking happy. He tells me I’m beautiful. There’s a light in my eyes. His are brown and sparkling. I want him again. He’s hard. Again.

I lie on top of him on the bed and stare into those dark, intense eyes.

Ever so slowly, I take him inside me. He knows what to do. He just lies there, letting me find the right rhythm. My clit is rubbing against his pubic hairs. It feels so good. I lift myself up and back down. Up. And. Down. Up. Again. And. Down. It feels so fucking good. I come and gush all over his cock. I slump against him. He kisses me, then has me turn over onto my back.

He enters me again. I’m wet with his cum. Soon he’s coming inside me. He falls asleep in my arms. I can’t even remember the last time a man has fallen asleep with me like this. I hear the rain and I let myself fall, fall into a deep sleep, for the first time in ages.

When I wake up, he is gone. We didn’t exchange cell phone numbers. I wait a day. Feel like an idiot because I feel hurt. There’s an emptiness in the pit of my stomach that feels like hunger, but it isn’t. We hadn’t made any promises in words. But the way he touched me. The way he kissed. And then to fall asleep with me like that. As though he trusted me.  It just felt like more than a fuck.

Another day goes by. I can still smell him on my sheets. I think of going back to the bar, but I’m too fucking embarrassed. And ashamed in a  way that doesn’t satisfy me. I don’t like being tricked into being used. But did he use me? We both had fun. Why am I like this? Why do I need the beautiful ones to be romantic, to be tender with me? Why do I let my heart get involved?

I wait until the weekend then I go to the bar, but he’s not there. I tentatively ask the server at the bar if she’s seen Jay, but she shakes her head. A regular overhears. She says he quit. These boys come and go, sweetheart, she says. I turn beet red. I stumble out of the bar. What a fool I am to think that someone as beautiful as that, as sweet as that would want more than a couple of fucks, one night with the lonely, desperate older woman.

My cell phone beeps. There’s a text from Toppy. There’s a new man he wants me to go see. I’m to be ready in half an hour. Why the fuck not?