Page 50 of Petrichor

At first, I felt used. But I’m the fool here. For clinging to a memory. Marco never showed any kind of affection toward me. None. He told me he is straight. He treated me coldly, keeping a wall between us at all times. He never started anything or looked interested in me, even when I tried to seduce him. He never lied.

I can’t stop hearing those moans coming from his bedroom. He fucked her, knowing I could be listening. He probably didn’t even think of the possibility. I’m that unimportant to him. Insignificant.

Art told me Marco Moretti fucks around, not caring about his partners, but just getting off. I was one of many. It meant absolutely nothing to him.

It’s ironic how that night ten years ago was such a crucial, pivotal point for me, while for Marco, it was utterly inconsequential.

Just a few days ago, I refused the very notion of being separated from him. Now I feel being in the same apartment as him is suffocating. I’ll move to a motel tomorrow. I can’t endure another night hearing him with one of those skanks. My pink nails dig into my palms as I grit my teeth so hard, I almost hear a crack.

Fuck, I need to put a stop to this queasy feeling. I push the impending tears back inside and straighten my back as I pay for the cab fare and make my way to the Red Ruby entrance.

I give the bouncer my name, and he lets me in. Art put me on the list when I told him I’d join him. After what happened yesterday, I accepted his invitation to the gay club. I need to get real and get fucked by a random guy.

The club is packed, the air hot and sweaty. The familiar atmosphere makes me tingle all over. And as I make my way through the throng of people, I feel eyes on me. It reminds me how stunning I am. I can have my pick here. Fuck Marco Moretti!

My dick twitches with eagerness.

I stop in front of the VIP area. The guy at the entrance recognizes me and opens the doors. I find Art straight away at one of the tables.

He stands up and hugs me, pulling me back down on the comfy sofa with him. There’re two guys wildly making out on another semi-circular sofa, while in the back, a dude is having his dick sucked while kissing another man. The VIP area is protected by tinted windows all around. It’s in the center of the club. We have a great view of the place—360 degrees—while they can’t see us. That’s why the excitement to do a few debauched things in here is quite strong.

“So good to have you here! I missed you.” Art pouts at me. “Look what I’m wearing!” He pinches the collar of his top to reveal oneof my creations underneath, a lace and silk lilac bra, cross back, with pink feathers covering his nipples.

“Looks fantastic on you,” I exclaim, feeling so delighted at the sight of my hard work on him. I really love creating lingerie. Nothing can take that satisfaction and love away from me. Fucking nothing.

“I know, right!” He makes a couple of sexy idiot poses before sobering. “By the way, I had a terrible week.”

“What happened?”

“A crow kept following me home.” How can he say things like that with such a serious face?

“A crow,” I deadpan.

“A stalker crow. I even threw a shoe at it yesterday, but it dodged it. Then the parrot in the pet shop window glared at me. I felt like I was walking into the birds’ revolution.” Art always has the ability to make me forget everything else with his crazy blabbering. “Prepare yourself. Anywhooooo, it sucked balls not to see you, but wait, you were the one doing the sucking.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.

I push annoyingly against his chest as he chuckles and lets me go, grabbing a flute from the table and handing it to me. He’s gnawing on a Twizzlers—there's a full pack on the table. He’s wearing a purple top that reveals more than it covers and tight jeans that leave nothing to the imagination. My friend is insane, but hot.

“What is done is done,” I mutter. I don’t regret it, do I? Marco’s tense face just before he comes, his sexy grunts and strong fingers in my hair, his taste in my mouth… Stop!

“Look. Isn’t it weird that he hasn’t nailed anybody since he met you? And then went and brought a woman to his apartment to fuck her? It feels like he just wanted to prove a point.”

I retold the whole horrible thing to Art this morning over the phone.

“I certainly got it.” I down the champagne and grab the bottle from the ice bucket. I need to drink more. Did she suck his cock? Did he like her mouth more? Damn it! I can’t believe he just went and did it with someone else. It fucking hurts. Just imagining her hands on his chest and face, when I never actually touched them, makes me want to scream until I have no voice left in me.

“I think the point was for himself more than you.” Art taps his yellow fingernails on his flute, pondering. His wavy hair looks like a soft cloud—I’ll yank on it until it tears if he doesn’t stop talking about Marco.

“What are you doing?” I ask him as he dips the Twizzlers in… “Is that ketchup?”

“Strawberry jam.” I scrunch up my nose, imagining all that sweetness.

“The jaw wants what it wants.” He closes his teeth around the twisted candy and pulls on it until it snaps.

I huff and tuck some strands behind my ear. I can’t help asking him, “Anyway, how do you know Marco hasn’t done the nasty with anybody since he met me?” Apart from yesterday.

“I have my sources.” He always remains vague about, well, everything.

“Who are you, Art?” I prop my elbow on the sofa’s back and turn to my side to look straight into his face. The couple who was sucking face moves toward the exit, surely looking for a dark corner to fuck.

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