It had all started out rather playful between the two of us, a constant push and pull game that even looked like a light sort of friendship at times. Then we would tear each other down again with bitchy remarks, insults or simple death glares. She would drop a mean comment and I would bitch back. Until one day I didn't.
We were about to head out, standing in the locker when she picked on me for something she didn't even know about me, like she had done many times before. I wanted to respond, say something smart in return but instead I simply surprised her - and myself - by pressing my lips to hers.
I think I just wanted to see how she would react or maybe I didn't think at all.
She tasted so good and then she even responded to the kiss, probably just to gain control of the situation, to demonstrate she was in charge, but who was I to complain?
Just when I thought I was about to lose my mind she forced me back to reality by breaking the kiss and slapping me hard across the cheek. Then she turned and left me standing in the locker, admiring her sexy ass. Stupid me, that was all I could do.
That was a few month ago and, call me crazy, but I just had to do it again.
After shifts, during shifts, in the locker, the ladies' room, hell, even in her office! She would slap me every time but never refuse me, she always returned my kisses. Guess I'm a little masochistic but I really didn't care about my red cheeks, or the pathetic feeling of joy I got from these little moments.
I still don't know how it happened - we don't really discuss things - but one day it went further than passionate lip-lock. She had offered me a ride home after shift, when my car had broken down and when I was about to exit the car she pulled me back into a fierce kiss until we were ripping each others clothes off and made out in the car like teenagers.
That was the first of many times. She'd call whenever she was pissed off at something, a case upset her or she was just generally moody and I'd come over and let her use me as her anti-aggression-fuck or whatever you might call it. And when I was down or simply needed to let off some steam, she'd be there to literally fuck all this shit out of my brain.
But we never talked about it, always acted as if none of it ever happened because it wasn't really us. Off work we were two different people who just happened to share the same fantasies. And I never minded, until today.
Something happened, I have no idea what. I'm lying in her bed, my body still sweaty and sore from the happenings of the last hour, and I'm crying.
I curse myself for that but I can't help it. I had looked into her eyes and everything came rushing down on me.
Maybe it's her, or me, or the 17 year old girl, sprawled naked on the motel-bed, covered with bruises, blood and sperm. Something inside me cracked and I rolled onto my side and started crying.
And now I can't stop. I don't want her to see me like this. I feel ashamed for showing my weakness in front of her. It's awkward and uncomfortable. I want to run away but I'm shaking so badly I can't move.