Sadness. Loneliness. Fear. Anger. Pain.
She had no idea what she's feeling, but she knew it's one of those things. Maybe all of them mixed in one. She could feel a shooting pain in her stomach, like someone is repeatedly pushing a knife in the same place in her abdomen. Her mind was crowded. Not with thoughts, but with feelings. She had no thoughts on her mind. She stopped thinking about things a long time ago.
Maybe it's nothing. Maybe there's only emptiness inside of her. Maybe she's broken.
She orders another tequila. She knows she shouldn't, tomorrow is the first day on her new job. But she licks the salt, empties the knee cap, and puts lemon in her mouth. She doesn't even make a squirmy face people usually do after drinking tequila and feeling the sour taste of lemon in their mouths, so the waiter eyes her, but she ignores him. Instead, she orders another tequila.
She looks around the bar. She sees him looking at her. Glancing, really, with the corner of his eye. He looks tired. His suit is lingering from his body like he's a skeleton, his eyes are a little bloody, and his ashy brown hair is messy. He looks like someone important, but sitting on the stool by the bar, he's only another customer. He's one of them. And he seems to enjoy that fact, that for a split of a second, no one is expecting anything from him. Like he has to work miracles on daily basis.
He looks sad, but he tries to hide it when he catches her looking into his direction. He's broken as much as she is, maybe more. Maybe in more ways than one.
He smirks at her. That smirk reminds her of him. That smirk ruined the mood. It wasn't his fault, she would see his smirk on the every person that would smirk into her direction. She was sure the man across the bar was nothing like him. He didn't look like him, he didn't sit like him, he didn't dress like him. The man had something behind his eyes, he was radiating with goodness, and in a way, that annoyed her a little. How can someone so good be so sad? She found it unfair, so she thought maybe he's faking it. Being sad or being good, doesn't matter. But how can someone fake the goodness behind their eyes? Eyes are a mirror of the human soul, correct? And that kind of sadness, it can't be faked, she knew that better than anyone. So maybe it is what it is, the world being an unfair place, were bad people smile, and where good people cry.
She didn't want to think about him, but the man's smirk trigered her memory of him. She could feel the scars he left in her mind. He never touched her skin, but sometimes she wished he did. She thought she can handle physical pain better than emotional one. She thought she can hide bruises better than the feeling of unworthiness. But she never found out, because he never touched her skin, he only bruised her mind. She could hear him whispering into her ear every second she spent awake, and sometimes, she could hear him in her dreams. She thought moving away will wash him off of her, but she was wrong. He was everyhwere, and it was only today that she became aware he's going to haunt her forever. She would kill herself if she wasn't so afraid he would find her there too and pull her down to spend and eternity with him in hell.
She had another knee cup of tequila. She looked up and saw the man standing up from his stool and walking towards her. He sat on the empty stool next to her. He didn't even ask was the seat taken, because he could see she doesn't care if anyone is sitting next to her or not. She can't see above the walls she built around herself. She doesn't want to.
The man was handsome. He had a body of a man, but face of a boy. She wondered how's he from the inside. A man, or a boy? His eyes looked old, but his smile and his skin were like a baby's. But she didn't care was he handsome or not, she didn't even notice them on the street anymore, when every one of them had something wicked inside of them. A little devil that would take over them. Or maybe it was her fault. Maybe it was she who made them act the way they do around her. Maybe she's the devil who deserves to be punished and talked down to. Maybe she did something in the previous life, or will do something in the next, so she's paying for her deeds in this one.
„I'm Stefan" – the man said before lifting a bottle from the counter and taking a sip of beer.
His name echoed in her ears. Stefan. Stefan's a nice name. Sounded almost angelic. But then again, the devil was also once an angel, God's favorite.
She looked sad. No, she looked more than sad. She looked devastated. But so did he, and he did not want anyone to bother him about it, so he didn't ask her what's wrong. Everything was wrong.
But she looked beautiful. Extremely beautiful. Movie beautiful. Beautiful people write songs about. Her presence was singing a song that lured him to her.
She looked like an angel who lost its wings.
She had a long brown hair that was falling all over her thin back. Her eyes were big and glossy, the same color as her hair was. He didn't care about the shape of her body much because the lines of her face captured his attention.
„I'm Elena" – she said while turning her head to face him, locking her big, beautiful eyes on his.
He looked so little under her look. He was ashamed, just like the stars are ashamed of the sun, so they hide whenever the sun comes out.
She stretched her hand out, and he shook it. He noticed she has no energy in her slim body.
„Do you want another one?" – he pointed with his finger at her knee cup.
She knows she shouldn't. She passed her limit three drinks ago. Tomorrow is an important day.
But she nods anyway, and he asks for one more tequila and one beer from the waiter. The waiter smiles and nods at him, eyeing Elena. She's ignoring him, and Stefan is too busy with studying Elena to notice.
He wishes this feeling would stop. This emptiness inside of him. She left and since that day there's a big hole inside of him. Nothing can fix him, nothing can cover up the bruises she left. Bruises both of them left.
He wants to turn back the clock. To pin point the moment when he stopped making her happy. When she stopped wanting him, loving him. He wants answers. He wants more than coming home to an empty apartment and a card on the coffee table. He wants more than her telling him how sorry she is, how sorry both of them are. He deserves more. At least she had a decency to leave his mothers ring before she ran away.
The waiter had put drinks in front of them. Elena takes a knee cup in her hand and stirs the tequila in it. Stefan watches her carefully as she licks the salt from the edges of the cup. He takes another sip of beer. It tastes like..
It tastes like nothing.
Like all the other things taste like nothing these past few months. He was tired of feeling like a robot. He was tired of his daily routine. Wake up, go to work, have few drinks at the bar, drive back to an empty apartment, go to sleep, repeat everything tomorrow. He wanted to feel something. Anything. Good feeling, bad feeling, he really didn't care, but he was tired of feeling nothing.
Maybe she can help him to feel something.
„Do you want to get out of here?" – he hears himself asking, disgusted by his own question.
She turns her head to him in a hurry, and he expects a slap on a cheek, or a glass of water sitting on a bar thrown to his face, but instead, she simply nods.
He stands up and gives her a hand. She takes her bag from the counter and follows him as he leads her to the exit.
He's confused, and scared, and surprised. By his actions, by her actions. He has no idea what he's doing. He has never done something like this before. He had never picked up a stranger at the bar and took her home. He slept with a decent amount of women, but not since she left, and never like this.
He was disappointed in himself. He was disappointed in her too.
But there was something about her. Something that made him think she can help him feel something.
He opened the bar door for her. She was a little bit surprised, since no one has ever opened doors for her. She didn't even know people still do things like that. He lead her to his car, it was black and luxurious, but she couldn't tell which brand it is in the dark. He opened the car door for her too, and she slipped in and made herself comfortable in baige, creamy leather seats.
He started driving. He didn't say a word, and neither did she.
That feeling in her stomach disappeared, but she had a feeling it's moving to her throat.
She had no idea what is she doing. She has never done something like this before. She hasn't slept with anyone since him, and before him, she slept with only one other man. This wasn't like her, this didn't seem like something she would do.
„New beginnings" – she whispered to herself.
She needed something different. She needed something Elena unlike.
Plus, there was something about him. Something that made her think he can fill that void inside of her.
He parked in front of a tall building. He stepped outside and opened the car door for her. He grabbed her by the hand and lead her to the entrance. The doorman opened the doors for them, smiling at both of them, but Elena could feel his eyes on her back as he closed the doors behind them.
They went into the elevator and Stefan pushed the button with number 14 written on it. She looked into the mirror that was covering the elevator wall, and she flinched. Stefan noticed that, but he acted like he didn't.
Disgusting. She looked disgusting. She felt disgusting. Maybe she was disgusting, like he always said. Maybe he was the only one who ever told her the truth.
The elevator stopped on the 14th floor, and he stepped outside, but this time he didn't grab her hand to lead her his way. She kinda wished he did, and she didn't know why. She followed him on her own.
He didn't say a word for the whole time, and neither did she. The only thing she knew about the man in a suit is that his name is Stefan, he drives a luxurious car, and lives on a 14th floor of a modern building. She didn't know anything else about him. His last name, what he does for a living, does he have a family in town, was he married, is he married. It made her feel dirty. It made her feel different. That was the point after all, to be not like herself.
She liked the idea of being someone else.
Someone better, someone worthy. He often told her she's not good enough, that she's a waste of space, that she only wastes oxygen.
Maybe she can be that person for Stefan, even for one night. Maybe he can make her feel.. better.
He unlocked the front door and stepped aside so she can come through. She came into his apartment, gasping at the sight in front of her. Big living room connected to the kitchen. Everything was black and white, and it looked elegant. It was nothing compared to her tiny apartment on the other side of the town.
She turned around and bumped into him. He looked down at her, his look fixated on her lips.
„Do you want something to drink?" – he asked politely. She could feel his hands trembling near her hips. She wondered is he unexperienced as she was in these kind of situations.
She shook her head.
„Where is your bedroom?" – she asked while looking him in the eyes.
He swalloved and pointed down the hall with his look. She grabbed his hand and started leading him towards the direction of his bedroom. There were four doors in a long hall, so he pointed at the first door at the left with his look, his hand sweating in hers. She could feel his hand getting warm in hers, and the warmth started spreading through her whole body.
Both of them stepped in, but she couldn't see anything in the dark. She turned around and cupped his face with both of her hands and pulled his head down until their lips met. She could feel his tongue parting her lips, so she had let him.
She could smell beer in his breath, but his lips tasted sweet. Soury sweet. His lips made hers sting, but in the same time, she didn't want to detach them, because he was sending sweet and relaxing feeling down her throat.
He made her feel something. After all this time he made her feel something. Something good.
Maybe he's different from the rest of them. Maybe he's the one, the one who wouldn't think she's worthless, or a piece of trash, or stupid, or ugly. Even if she is all of those things, maybe he would think otherwise, maybe he would be blind to her faults.
He unzipped her dress. It fell on the floor. It slipped down her body, leaving her in nothing but a black lacy bra and matching silky panties. She took his jacket off of him. It fell on the floor next to her dress. She started unbuttoning his shirt which slipped down his body on the top of his jacket. She could feel his hands under her ass moving in the front. His fingers slipped down her panties and she released a silent moan as he started kissing her neck. She unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants which fell down his legs as he pulled the fingers of both of his hands up and down her back.
He lifted her from her ground and she tangled her legs around his waist and put her hands on his arms. That's when she felt how strong he is. He was rock solid, both his arms and his torso. She would have never guessed, because sitting across her in a bar, he looked like someone sucked all the life force out of him. All that time, she was kissing him, going with her fingers through his hair.
He threw her on the bed and she could feel his erection on her thigh as he climbed on top of her.
His bed was comfortable, there were bunch of pillows under her head and upper back, and she could feel silky covers under her bare skin.
He kissed her lips once again, sending sensational tingly feelings down her spine.
His touch on her skin felt like electricity.
He started planting kisses on her chest, on her stomach, on her thighs.
Her heart was pounding, her mind was racing, and her insides were smiling.
Because after all these months, she finally felt something.
And she couldn't even explain what.
For a moment, he stopped existing.
All the pain was gone. Sadness washed away when Elena kissed his lips. Her touch on his skin made that hole in him fill up.
She was like an ocean.
She was soothing, and relaxing, and he had a feeling like he could drown in her.
But in the same time, she was wild, and uncontrolable, and her touch was deadly, because she made him feel things he never felt before.
She was a stranger, and she made everything better.
Maybe she was different. Maybe she wouldn't hurt him. Maybe she wouldn't leave.
Nonsense. Everybody leave. His mother left even before he had a chance to meet her. His father waited for him to turn 18 so he could take his own life. His brother has his own life, life that has nothing to do with him.
So why would she stay?
He never got turned on so fast before. Maybe it's because it's been such a long time for him. He used to have sex with her every day, in every room in the house.
But Elena felt different. Her skin was softer. And her breath was warmer. And she made him melt under her touch. And her kisses cured his soul.
He took down her panties and pulled his fingers over her vagina. He kissed her lips as she pulled his boxers down. She took his erection into her hand and lead his penis to the entrance of her vagina.
She moaned as he pushed himself inside of her.
Their bodies started moving rhythmically.
She started panting into his ear which made the hair on his arm stand straight up.
Her body trembled under his.
She was so weak. So unprotected. Like a bird who fell out of the nest while learning how to fly.
He asked himself does she does this often, sleep with strange men. And he wondered is she asking herself does he does this often too.
He looked in the direction of her face and her eyes were closed. She held her hands on his back, and he could feel she's plunging her nails into his skin. He smiled.
She started breathing faster, and her moans became louder. She screamed a few times, but silently, like she's trying not to wake somebody up. She controlled her desires.
He felt sorry for her because of that.
No one should keep their soul or mind locked like that. If she was his, he would help her find the key, he would help her free herself.
She was beautiful.
Not what people today find beautiful, her beauty was genuine.
She looked like a child, like a sister, like a friend, like a lover, like a mother. She looked like a woman.
Her hair was glued to her face.
He removed the locks of the hair from her face as her body stiffened under him. He could tell she's reaching her climax.
He came few seconds after her.
He fell on the bed next to her, and inhaled. He turned his head around and looked at her. She was already looking at him. She turned her head around like she was scared of his look. No, more like she was ashamed of it. Ashamed of her face, of her body, of what they just did, of everything she is and ever was.
She jumped from the bed and said she needs to head home. First day on the new job tomorrow, she explained. He offered to drive her home, but she refused. She ran out of his apartment before he left the bed. He felt terribly sorry for that. He wished there was something he could do for her.
But he was too tired. He fell asleep instantly.
That night, he dreamed about her. About her big browns eyes that shined like the stars in the depth of the night, about her long brown hair that was a shelter for her bare shoulders, beautiful lines of her face, her blushy cheeks, soft skin of her body.
And he had a feeling he's been dreaming about her since forever.
I hope you guys liked the first chapter, and please tell me yours thoughts in the reviews.