Dash Daily Prompt
Dash blue Sapphire nights,
An ocean of fear and doubt,
Troubled sailors drown.
I had a dash of love last night, when it was only meant to be sex, and maybe not even that.
An actress high on life because she “smashed” the set yesterday, texts me saying she wants to celebrate, and I’m in luck because it’s going to be with me.
Don’t get me wrong, I was trembling like a teen before her final exam. I got showered, shaved, and dressed… Damn it… No underwear! I left it all at the seaside… No problem, I’ll go commando.
I get to the hotel, and she tells me to wait because one of her friends from set has asked to go and smoke a cigarette… So here I am, at the centre of this ridiculous reception, waiting.
Well, I don’t wait.
I pull out my notes and start revising them, getting things in order. Before I know it, 10 minutes have gone by… must be a slow-burning kind of cigarette, like a cigar or something. Which wouldn’t surprise me from this straight dry whiskey drinking actress… One of a kind.
I text her telling her I’ve run out of dance moves to the cheesy reception music. She finds it funny and texts me the room number, 713.
Off I go…
The door opens slowly and empty, like from a horror scene. But the quiet, deep bass music coming from behind the door, and the scent of candles burning, change the mood entirely.
I look behind the door, and there she is; dressed in black and white, looking perfect.
Her curly hair, shoulder length -her eyes blue, like a lost river.
She wore a black one piece with belled trousers, open back and a skin-tight interlacing front, ribs exposed. Over that was a white, thin, silk blouse, left open and revealing her slender neck and shoulders. She looked straight out of a red carpet party.
I pull out the weed, and we start to smoke from the pipe… Very classy.
On the second puff, she arches backwards, pressing her head against the window with the spectacular view as a backdrop. Her chest elevates, her lips part, her hair moves away from her perfect collar bones… The arch in her back is impossible, she’s clearly trained in the art of seduction… She’s a master, and I’m lost in her game. In hindsight, I should have called her out and told her “wow, this weed surely turns you into a contortionist” But I was mesmerised. The entire night was an erotic display, and I was the only spectator.
She turns the music up, using the speaker that I brought. She moves away after our hands flirted and caressed each other in all the wrong places.
She dances -an arousing combination of Dirty Dancing and Sia’s Elastic Heart. It was sexy, but it wasn’t turning me on. Why? Because I had no idea what was going on!
Then she starts undressing. Revealing and covering. A striptease when all I wanted was to know her a bit more, sleep in her embrace, breathe her scent, taste her sweat… But instead, I get this performance, which is ludicrous. We had barely spoken, and nothing motivated the night to be going there. But I guess when one moves, the other must follow. So I did.
After the third song of this game, I come close. She plays with me, and I play back. She pushes me, I come forward, we dance, and we giggle. Then she pulls away.
“No. I don’t want this” comes out of her pressed lips. I’m gobsmacked, for starters, I have no idea what she means. I agree I don’t want this either.
I move away, and she comes and grabs me, puts her hand between my thighs, and it feels like heaven.
I turn around, kiss her cheeks… she pulls away.
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?
She dashes in, and dashes out, like a cobra. And I’m moving at the speed of a sloth.
We end up spooning, and as that happens, she starts crying. Let me be clear, not even ten seconds prior, she was giggling and enjoying my touch “You drive me crazy” she kept saying… And then, we lay down, and the second we’re spooning, waterworks… I ask if everything is OK, but I recall she’s an actress… At this point, I feel like she’s just getting a kick out of making me think that any of this is real, but I do not believe it… It’s all a show. And I can’t call her out on it… If I tell her to stop acting and she’s acting, then she’ll get mad because she didn’t fool me, and if she’s not performing, then I’ve hurt her feelings because they’re genuine. She’s created a perfect trap, where she will always have control… How terribly lonely.
Her answer to my question, “are you ok?”
“I’m releasing” is her answer.
Releasing? A second ago you were saying this was the happiest day you’ve had in a long time! That it was the fruit of your efforts from the past few years culminating in this one moment… And now you’re sad, stumbling on your phone trying to put ‘happy’ music on because you’re down??! Somebody, please explain this to me.
I hug her, not sure what else to do. She says she likes my touch. But then she moves away.
Her: What do you want?
Me: Now? In life? From you? What do you mean?
Her: No! not now.
She pulls away again.
Time goes by… More seduction, more excitation, more kisses and more of everything, but nothing of substance.
Her: What are you thinking?
Me: That I don’t know you, but I’d like to know you better.
Her: Ok, good night, go.
Me: What? Why?
Her: I’m sure that answer works with others, but it’s the wrong answer.
Me: I didn’t know this question could be answered wrongly…. and I’ve never responded that to anybody… Why do you think I’m playing?
Her: No, of course not. I was just expecting to hear something else.
Me: Well, I’ve never been good at telling people what they want to hear.
Her: Give me a massage.
What a fool… What a blind idiot. How desperate am I to not feel alone?!
Me: Do you mind if I sit on you to do it?
I asked as I’m completely naked at this point and she’s wearing a g-string so thin and small, I could floss my teeth with it.
Her: Yes, I want to see you while you massage me.
So I start, slow and not too deep.
Her: I want you to fucking break me. I want you to fucking kill me! Fucking destroy me!! Press as hard as you can!
At this point, I’m pissed off and don’t hold back. I put all my weight into it but am concerned with popping a rib or something. So I hold back, slightly.
She starts to moan, I begin to groan. She puts her ass in the air, and as a fly to the light, I can’t help but go there, I kiss her and lie over her. We start rubbing against each other (again), and it feels incredible… but I’m not sixteen anymore, and it’s been two hours of this craziness.
She asks me to get the weed ready again. I do it, I don’t think I’ve ever been so compliant… and felt like such a pushover, but I had no idea what was what or where was up. Her mood swings kept me guessing and rather than be active, I be reactive. It’s a great defence mechanism she has built for herself.
Finally, she turns to me, and says, “I don’t want you.”
Phewww I felt relieved, ’cause I would have been in a whole lot of trouble had she said anything else.
She asks me to cover her, and I do. She wants to sleep, and I caress her back for a while. Then I get dressed, and gradually bring the music volume down, so I can take my speaker without waking her up -not that she would have cared, or asked me to stay, but who knows, I might have stayed… I don’t know…
I feel I dodged a bullet, and at the same time, I missed a chance to help someone, but at what cost? Some souls are not mine to heal… I’ve got enough with keeping mine out of trouble.