A cold, rainy night in late autumn. The tavern was crowded. Sound of people talking, laughing, cheering; a few storytellers surrounded by their respective audience, some guests sitting at the bar. A typical night in Big ol' Tom's tavern. None of the storytellers had, nevertheless, attracted the old barista's attention—so far, that is.
That was until the heavy oaken double-wing doors opened once more. A man in his late twenties stepped in, coat soaked from the cold November rain. He looked around for a free seat—no particularly peculiar behavior so far. His eye caught the last free bar stool.
When slowly walking towards it, he overheard a few stories. A very specific one caught his interest.
“But, dude, she did give you head, right?” asked a listener to the teller of this special story.
“No,” replied a grinning elderly and clearly drunk man, “for she had no head.”
The crowd around him almost died laughing. Unable to understand the joke, the young man stopped his walk to the bar, and turned his head to the elderly storyteller, disgusted by his sick sense of humor.
Another customer—probably a regular, judging from the self-confidence he emanated—approached him, and put his hand on his shoulder.
“Don't mind him, son,” this customer said, drying his hand—wet from the young lad's soaked coat—on his own jacket. “He's got a sick sense of humor. Always tells stories 'bout 'Nam. Claims he's fought in the war although everyone knows he ain't never set as much as a foot there.”
The elderly drunk storyteller stood up at once and walked—better: lurched his way—to the two men who had apparently insulted him.
His voice reeked of cheap booze. “Like you got an idea how many of those fucking slant-eyed gook fucks I killed back there!”
Another voice came roaring from the bar. “That's enough!!”
It was Big ol' Tom who was leaning over the mahogany bar. “How many times have I told you that we won't tolerate any racist expressions nor any aggressive behavior in here, Patrick!”
The drunk man squinted at the owner of the tavern. “Cut me some slack, Tom! I'm one of your regulars! He started it, man!”
Not willing to argue, Big ol' Tom sent the doorman after his drunk customer. It wasn't much of a fight, though.
Finally, the young man sat on the barstool.
“Pretty much going on here tonight, huh?” he stated.
Big ol' Tom replied while filling a few pints with his exquisite draft, “Patrick. An old friend. Warned him too many times, though. But let's not talk about this, shall we? What can I do for you, son?”
“Do I get it right that this here is the place where stories are told?” the young man asked, catching some of the other customers' interest.
“That's what the sign in front of this tavern said last time I checked. Big ol' Tom's Tavern, it says, the place where stories are told. ” The old man himself put a freshly filled pint in front of his new guest. “Drinks on the house while you're telling.”
He took a first long sip. “Well, that's something I like. Sure, a good story. I got one.”
One of the other customers whistled to catch everybody's attention to the bar.
“Listen up, everyone! We've finally got someone telling his story at the bar tonight!” he shouted to draw more listeners.
Before long, a little crowd had settled around the young man sitting at the bar. He heard many requests to make it kinky and dirty. He surely did not have an issue regarding that matter.
He smiled, sighed, and took a deep breath before beginning his story.
“My story takes place a few years back...”
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It started with an innocent walk home after a company dinner. I can't recall what we were celebrating. A new boss, an older member retiring, or maybe it was the company's Christmas party? Had to be that, since it was in the middle of December.
I had kind of not really thought of any good plan on when or how to leave and getting back home. I just left at some point before I knew everyone was getting pretty much plastered and tiresome to hang around with. Just not my kind of evening. I mean... Nothing against a decent buzz as long as one can keep their shit together.
Another friend who left early gave me a ride to the bus station. I only realized I had missed the bus by a mere two minutes as my friend had already left. The next bus? Not before one in the morning, which meant another hour and a half to kill. As I already said, I had not lost a thought on how to get back home.
The night, however, was really mild for mid-December. Even though I only had my favorite zipper hoodie for a jacket, I felt pretty warm.
Screw it, I thought. I'll just walk home. What was it? Two miles? I knew the way along the woods like the back of my hand. Many had been the times I had taken this way to get home. A beautiful road along the woods, almost romantic, only lit by the moonlight. No streetlamps. A good three-quarters of an hour of time to lose myself in my thoughts.
Funny thing is that my thoughts instantly traveled to my ex-girlfriend, Emanuelle.
Oh, Emanuelle... What great experiences we had shared... Just the mere thought of it makes me dream again...
We had taken that very stroll home countless times during warm summer nights. I also remembered the time she merely saw the nice friend who walks you home in me. That was before we were together. Why would I do that, you may wonder. We just lived five minutes apart, by foot that is—practically neighbors—and she was that kind of girl you wouldn't let walk home in the dark alone. See what I mean? That was until one day our good night hug routine became more than just a formality between friends.
One of these nights, she wouldn't let go of me, and, well, I wouldn't let go either. Our warm embrace felt like... like... coming home, yeah that's what it felt like. Can't find another way to describe it. And after what felt like forever, our embrace turned into a shy kiss. A shy kiss turned into a more daring kiss. A more daring kiss turned into curiosity, and curiosity led to a rather wild night.
We were only together for a little more than a year. But within that time, I truly fell in love with her like I never had with any girl before. She just felt like the one I belonged to. For a moment there, I really thought I had found me the girl of my dreams; the girl I wanted to spend my life with. But from one day to another, things went south. Just like that.
I should have known better when she asked me if I was willing into an open relationship. Of course, I was surprised by her request, but not quite shocked, though. I told her I needed a moment to wrap my head around it.
Later, I agreed under the condition that, one, we would tolerate each other's adventures as long as it wasn't like every other night or so, and, two, we would be honest about it with each other, be allowed to ask any question whatever uncomfortable they were, and get an honest answer to it. Why not? We were young, inexperienced, naïve, adventurous. The thrill of it was very appealing to both of us. I couldn't have been more wrong. What an idiot...
This worked out pretty OK for a while. She had her adventures, nothing too serious, though—all within agreement. I didn't feel like she was cheating on me. In return, I got to ask anything I wanted. Fine by me. It even turned out that I got pretty turned on by listening to her stories.
They weren't many, though. She had like two escapades in like six or seven weeks. Or did she have three? Doesn't really matter anyway.
And then, one day—I was out at some rock show at an open-air festival I can't really remember, for the girl I had in view distracted me too much from the actual band playing—I thought I'd allow myself a nice little adventure too, so I'd have a nice little story to tell as well. So... I... uh... hooked up with her. Nothing too serious either, though; just some touchy-feely stuff, no actual fling. Again, nothing too serious.
And, yeah, I told Emanuelle about it. And guess what... She wasn't so amused, no, she was, like, really pissed off about it. So... Big fight. Sure, she gets to fuck around, but I gotta stay true? Don't think so. Well, she broke up with me after first telling me that she needed some time to herself to think, and letting me wait in my little misery for a few weeks. 'Cause I really was miserable, you know? Me ready to give up anything for her, basically just wishing she'd be the one I'd spend my life with, yeah?
So much for the open relationship... As I said, I should have known better from the very beginning on. What a shame. But, hey, that's the way things were.
Of course, I tried to move on. A rather hard task, considering that I had really believed we would work things out together. I had just put way too much effort into a relationship that was bound to fail from the moment she asked about that relationship... uh... upgrade. And of course, moving on had consisted of trying to find me a new girl. Wasn't even as hard as I had initially been afraid of, but equally easily breakable, unfortunately. Just for the record, the first girl I tried to date after Em had broken up with me turned out to be the one I had cheated her on with. So no serious relationship after our break-up it was.
And her? She as well hadn't waited too long to find her a substitute for me either. She still was with him for all I knew, but wasn't exactly what you'd call faithful and honest. I had heard more than just once that she was still fucking around as she had wanted while she'd been with me, but her boyfriend was just too damn naïve to see through her, although he knew perfectly well.
So there I was, walking home, thinking of that sweet time we shared. That was—like what?—three years later or so? We hadn't really seen each other since. Maybe in the mom-and-pop store, in a bar, or downtown somewhere, crossing each other, saying hello, and avoiding being awkward by immediately breaking eye contact and simply keeping on walking, pretending to have shit to do. Don't blame me, right? She acted just the same.
But often enough had I thought of her. I had missed her real bad, and sometimes still do. To be honest, sometimes, she still is the reason why I can't really bond with anyone, I guess. But still... However good the memories of her and our time together were, and however often I absent-mindedly thought of her—every time I did so and still do, actually—that dark shadow of the way she ditched me still hangs over these precious memories, churns up my stomach, twitches my belly, and leaves me with a bad feeling in my guts; even now so.
That time, however, was different. Was it the little alcohol I'd had? Much unlikely so. Or was it some kind of anticipation? Perhaps an expectation? I don't know. I just walked home and thought it would be funny to meet her. Maybe even to walk her home, for the old times' sake. That thought made me smile a bit.
But let's be honest, what were the odds? Considering that she had moved away from her mother's to another town two years before, the chances of her paying a visit to her mother, and thus of bumping into her this very night were rather slim.
I had almost reached the edge of the woods already—a quarter mile from home, one half at max—when I decided to sit down on that bench at the very end of the woods and enjoy the view of the night sky for a while before I'd finally make it home. When would be the next time I'd enjoy it so much, I thought. Winter would be coming soon. Winters were cold at my place, not the most attractive conditions for a night under the stars, not that there were many of them to see through that gray, thick, hibernal cloud cover that usually hung there.
Guess what, that bench was already taken.
----------------
The young storyteller addressed his next question to his audience. “...and guess by whom?”
He took the last sip of his pint, which immediately got replaced by Big ol' Tom, and ran his index finger over the bar, looking at the crumbs of consumed chips and peanut curls.
He was already digging his face into his freshly filled glass as one of his listeners suggested, “I bet it was Em, huh?”
The young lad took the glass off his face, pointed the index of his hand holding the glass to said listener, said, “Bingo!” and rubbed the froth off his upper lip with the sleeve of his sweater.
The pint landed on the bar again, and the young man proceeded in his story.
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“Come to see the stars as well?” I heard a well too familiar voice I hadn't heard in a while say.
I sighed, “Guess so.”
I was kind of surprised, but also a little pissed off to find her there. I pressed my lips together.
“So what are you doing here, Em? Late. Dark. Alone.”
She chuckled before she replied, “Thinking of long-gone times.” She turned her head. “You do appear in these memories as well. And you?”
“Missed the bus. So I thought I'd take the stroll home, like...”
Emanuelle cut me short, “...we used to. I know. Thinking of these past times as well, I see. It's funny how sometimes things are connected to each other like the tight web the fabric of life and fate are made of.”
“Don't make it sound more romantic than it really is, Em,” I replied rolling my eyes.
She still stared into the dark nothingness of the night. “Why so bitter?”
She clumsily got back on her feet. That was when I saw the half-spilled bottle of cheap booze lying to her feet. She stepped to me—pretty adroitly for half a bottle, actually—and looked at me through tired eyes.
She chuckled, took a deep breath, and let it out audibly. “I got to admit... I was kind of hoping you'd show up... waiting for you, you know?”
I quickly shot back the look, but didn't bother to let my eyes linger on hers.
“Is that supposed to be some sort of declaration or so?” I nonchalantly provoked her.
She hit my shoulder. It was too much of a knock to be meant playfully.
“You should know me better, dumbass,” she whispered.
I resumed my walk home; slowly at first, so she could catch up. I indeed knew her too well to think she'd let me walk away just like that.
We walked a few minutes in awkward silence before I decided to break the ice. “So, um... tell me... What have you been up to? It's been a while, you know.”
Her tone left no doubt that she was a bit pissed off as well. “Oh yeah? And what about all these times you just walked on by me, not even daring to look at me. Really?”
“Sure. Like you were acting any differently... Know what? Let's talk about something else, shall we? Otherwise, I'm afraid this discussion is not headed in any constructive direction.” I suggested.
“Okay, so how about the obvious?” She let her words sink in before proceeding, “I hear you got yourself a new girlfriend? Well... new... Newer than me, that is.”
I hesitated. She must have meant Laura, the adventure she had once used as a pretext to dump me.
“Uh-huh,” I just stated drily.
“It's the girl you had your little adventure with, right? Kinda foreseeable. But, yeah, that's what I get for being a little whiny bitch, right?”
Her self-criticism surprised me a bit and also raised my interest, so I asked for more details: “How so?”
“ Well... That time after our break-up wasn't easy. Not for me at least.” She paused. “I saw you replacing me rather fast. With all that fucking you're the one bullshit you've been feeding me?”
That caught me off guard. It's true that I had never wasted a thought on how she'd feel seeing me with the exact girl she had been jealous of. Apparently, she wasn't aware that this relationship had only lasted a few months. Okay no... Weeks at best.
“Woah there! These weren't lies at all, and you know that. You know I really loved you from the bottom of my heart. Agreed, being with Laura isn't exactly the best way to ask for an apology, but what did you expect? I moved on. And besides, you can't forget how hard I tried to win you back.”
“Yeah, got a point there. You did take risks, you did play the all-or-nothing card, and I just sat on my stubborn ass, and put you off with the too little, too late excuse. It was very stupid of me. Guess it's a little late to ask for forgiveness.”
It was hard to read her face. I couldn't really tell if she was trying to play with me or if she was truly trying to apologize for one of her major teenage mistakes. One part of me was really curious about finding out while the other part of me so desperately clung to this shadow that still hung over Emanuelle and tried to get me out of this situation as fast as possible.
I decided to make a daring move to find out more about her intentions. “No it's not. I can forgive you; that is if you can prove to me you're ready to, but you can't make the past undone. I will never forget how you broke my heart.”
“You make it sound so dramatic. Well, dramatic it indeed was—at least as far as I'm concerned. I certainly don't know how it was for you, but I can imagine it must have been quite painful to have your heart torn apart like that, although you had done nothing wrong. I was stupid. I really was. I should have considered all the implications from an open relationship from the very beginning on, not only the cool stuff about it.”
“Nope, that time was really not cool. I couldn't understand you. I blamed myself for having screwed up something that we had build together with so much effort. Eventually, I became mad at you. Took me a while to accept that we were just a teenage couple that had grown into different ideals that didn't match, and it probably was for the best for us to go separate ways. Sure, it wasn't an easy decision to make, but we both know we would only have hurt each other sooner or later.”
We had arrived at her old place. It was just the way I remembered it. Only as we stopped before the front door, I realized we had been holding hands since quite a while. I was confused. What now? What would be her next move? What would be mine? Had she just been playing with me? Should I just say good night, turn around and go? Yes, just that, nothing more. Or maybe a hug at max.
We looked at each other. Again, an uneasy silence set in.
Before Emanuelle leaned in to hug me, I nervously broke the silence: “It was nice catching up with you. Real nice. But I should be going home now.”
“Why?” she asked, “Don't you want to come in?”
“No,” I replied, “I'm tired, Em.”
“You can spend the night here if you like.” She tilted her head, and chuckled nervously, what caused a crooked smile to flash across her lips. “Just for the old times' sake, you know.”
I didn't hesitate, for I had already made up my mind earlier that night. “No, I can't. I have a girlfriend, and you know that.”
I admit that it was a bluff. A bad one even. But I just wanted to make it out of this situation as quickly as possible.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, you're such a bad liar.”
Shit! She didn't hook. So another plan needed it was.
“And you... have a boy... friend,” I stammered trying to sound as accusing as possible, but failing rather miserably at it.
Turned out the rumors about her fidelity were true as she replied, “Yes, and?”
Oh boy, did she make me angry. I really had to keep it together not to wake up the whole neighborhood. “And what?! That's exactly why our relationship broke. And after what you did to me you seriously ask me to spend the night with you while knowing you've already got someone screwing you? Seriously? Are you fucking kidding me?”
She wanted to slap me, but her hands were too shaky. Adrenaline? The alcohol the smell of her breath testified to? “Come on, Dan, that's three years ago! How can you just be so resentful?”
“You broke my heart, Emanuelle! You should have known better, you really should have.”
She tried to shove me away. “Oh yeah? Should I?”
I didn't directly react to her physical aggression. “Yes, you should! And now just go to bed, and leave me alone.” I pointed to her bedroom window to emphasize my point, before adding: “And if you so desperately do need a fuck, then call your boyfriend!”
She wasn't used to someone resisting her. She never had been. The mixture of rage and desperation on her face gave away her insecure handling of the situation.
Her facial expression got all distorted as she fought the urge to cry. “Fuck! Do you have any idea how hard it was to get over you? I fucking knew I had made a horrible mistake! But by the time I would have come crawling back, you were already screwing that Laura bitch! You're just thinking of yourself, aren't you? And me?! I fucking loved you! I missed you! Of course, there's Jack! But he's just a substitute... and a bad one on top of that! He could never give me what you gave me: true love! Someone I wanted to spend my life with! He's just a toy.”
I didn't know how to react. All I wanted was to end this situation, whatever the cost. Emanuelle was not exactly dead to me, but not really far from it either. It was up to me: give it another shot, and end things smoothly with her; maybe even be friends again, who knows? She was a nice girl after all. Or ending it there and then. Either way, there was nothing to lose, as I had already wasted far too much effort on it three years before.
So what should I say? It just came blurting out of me. “Now you go to bed, or I'll call the police. I swear I'll do that!”
“Yeah? You'd do that?! And what are you going to say to them, Mr. oh-so-ballsy?!”
“That you're trying to drag me into your bed against my will. I think the common expression for that is sexual harassment.”
I saw a tear pop out of her eye and rolling down her cheek. That was the moment I realized I had apparently overstepped some kind of boundaries I hadn't been aware of. I took her in my arms. She sobbed, rubbed her cheek on my chest. What the hell was I actually doing? I should have let her cry alone in the dark. I should have gone home, turned my back on her. Yeah. Coulda, shoulda woulda... Instead, I promised her to put her to bed. Again, What the hell was I actually doing? Nice going, Dan, I thought.
I got to admit, though, that our close embrace felt all too familiar, warm, intimate. The smell of her skin filled my nostrils as I dug my nose into her sandy blond hair. Again, I was experiencing this sensation of coming home while I saw the shell Emanuelle's shadow had laid over me over the years slowly cracking. It was hard to resist, to keep my fake badass attitude towards her. Her spell hit me again, bewitched me beyond confusion. What next?
Oh man, I really had her thinking she had convinced me into getting laid. She led the way upstairs guiding me to her bedroom through this house that had once been like a second home to me. I was in real deep shit. How in the name of... had I gotten myself into this? But more importantly, how was I gonna get out of it? Shit!
The sexual heat she emanated was filling the air, alluring my body while a million reluctant thoughts raced through my fully alert mind, as to break free from her spell—in vain. My sheer willpower couldn't stand against these long-forgotten memories of sublime carnal pleasure my body was about to re-experience after all these years of abstinence from her.
Once the bedroom door closed, she started undressing, even giving me a little seductive show. She was very good at it. The sway of her hips, the sultry glances she threw me as she licked her lips, the way she ran her hands over her sides down to her thighs. Did she do this to her boyfriend as well? Did she tease him like she teased me? Or was she still in love with me? Or was it just her ritual to seduce another conquest?
These questions stirred something in me, something weird, something sordid, yet twisted. I had to get out of this. The shadows of past events slowly came creeping back to me again. I wasn't looking at a former lover of mine. She had turned into a nymph, a demon... my demon. I desperately wanted to escape the room, leave, but my legs would not move an inch. Mouth open and dry; my eyes barely blinking, they drank in the sight of this temptress slowly blinding me with the promise of fulfilling my deepest sexual desires. I knew she could.
She sat down on the bed and patted the free spot on the mattress for me to join. I licked my lips and excused myself to the bathroom. At least, my mouth still worked properly. Having excused myself, I was forced to actually go to the bathroom so I wouldn't create an awkward situation.
I closed the bathroom door behind me, leaned with my back to it, and slowly sat down on the floor. I kneaded the root of my nose with my index and my thumb. I mumbled some gibberish—nothing really important, though. What was I supposed to do? I needed to figure something out, and I needed to do it fast!