He imagined he could hear the delighted squeals of his woman.
The stunningly handsome young man sat on a stool in the kitchen wondering, again, why he had not acted before. True, the relationship was still fairly new, but he had so wanted it to work this time. Unfortunately, his ability to pick the wrong sort of woman seemed to continue to work against him.
He glanced at the clock in the kitchen. It was almost midnight. She had called several hours earlier to inform him that she was catching a last minute tutorial at the university where she studied. It was another lie in a long line of lies. There was always something to go to at the last minute. There was always one more assignment. It was a lie on a lie on a lie. And he had tired of it.
She was stunningly beautiful; tall and lithe; with an hourglass figure and the style of a 1950’s movie star. She was intelligent and cultured and oh so sophisticated. She was also the best sex he had ever had. It was completely uninhibited, almost animalistic, and it would last for hours. Quickie was not in her vocabulary.
But now, the sex was not enough. It was all or nothing now – and he wanted nothing more from her. Strangely enough, he felt very little sadness about what he felt necessary to do. In fact, there was a release to his decision, a lessening of weight that had been a burden for too long. Ever since the detox and his subsequent year long stay in rehab, all he had wanted from life was an ease of living. He had money, that wasn’t a problem. But he had drama and difficulty and hassles, they were the problems, and he wanted no more of it, just like he wanted no more of her.
His musings were interrupted by her entrance. She could never just walk into a room, it always had to be a grand entrance. As usual the door flew open, banging against the wall and further marking it. She would toss down her handbag, immediately begin on how busy her day had been and how tired she was. She would hastily kiss him and then put her laptop on the table and plug it in to recharge. She would put the kettle on and squeeze his arm as she again strode past him on her way to the shower. He wondered why she needed a second in an hour. Surely, she always had one at his place before coming home. So caught up in herself was she that she failed to notice his bags by the kitchen counter.
He shook his head. Enough was enough. He stood and walked over to her laptop. He placed the second, third and fourth fingers of his left hand on the screen. With a thought, the small, technological beings who shared his body raced out of his finger tips and connected him to the laptop’s memory core and hard drive. After a few seconds of searching, he found the file he was after. The obscure password of her email meant nothing to someone who could circumvent such programming. With a thought, he called up the most recent email from her boyfriend, complete with its’ explicit descriptions of their lovemaking session previous to that.
Leaving that on her desktop, he picked up his bags, walked out of the apartment and down to his waiting taxi. He had decided some pampering was required and had chosen a luxury hotel in the city as his next stop before making a decision on his future. He would order some food, get some booze and maybe even go out to a club. Then again, maybe he would stay in, call an escort, get drunk and watch some rugby. Either way, without her around, it was a win-win scenario.
The above excerpt is from a work written by Damien Timms and is protected by International Copyright lodged in Australia and the USA and may not be reproduced in part or whole without the written permission of the author.