Pelajar di Bilik Hotel

Micro Bikini

Roksychan

Cerita Cikgu Amira Yang Kuat Seks – Bhg.1

Aku ingin melucutkan panties Cikgu Mira yang berwarna merah yang sedang melindungi kawasan segitiga emas yang masih suci itu. Dari luar, aku dapat lihat kesan basah dan melekit pada hujung alur lurah yang subur itu. Pahanya aku usap sambil lidahku menjilat pusatnya. Terliuk-lentok badan Cikgu Mira diperlakukan begitu. Kedua-dua tanganku memegang pantiesnya dan melurutkannya ke bawah, aku angkat sedikit punggung Cikgu Mira untuk memudahkan aku melucutkan pantiesnya.

Benteng terakhir Cikgu Mira sudah kuhapuskan. Aku tidak melepaskan peluang melihat sekujur tubuh insane ego bernama wanita yang lemah tanpa seurat benangpun, yang sangat diingini oleh insan bergelar lelaki. Malahan boleh diperlakukan sesuka hati sahaja sahaja. Kelihatan di cipapnya berair dilindungi bebulu nipis yang berjaga rapi. Keadaan alur yang memanjang ke bawah amat mengaasyikkan mata memandang. Aku sentuh bahagian cipapny, terangkat punggungnya menahan keenakan. Aku sentuh lagi dan aku menguak bibir cipapnya sambil mengesel-gesel jari-jariku melewati lurah itu, suara mengerang Cikgu Mira mengiringi liuk-lentok tubuhnya. Kelentitnya aku mainkan, aku gentelkan bahagian kelentit itu sambil jari ku yang lain mengosok-gosok bahagian dalam alur rekahan cipapnya.

“Emmhhpphh.. Aahh!!” kali ini Cikgu Mira mendesah dengan agak kuat dengan badan terangkat kekejangan.

Terasa basah jariku. Aku dapat rasakan Cikgu Mira telah pun klimaks kerana aku pernah mendengar dari temanku, perempuan klimaks bila badannya bergetar-getar kekejangan dan muka mereka menjadi kemerahan. Lagi pun tanganku telah pun basah berair akibat cecair yang keluar dari cipap cikgu matematikku. Aku mengelap cipap cikguku dengan sapu tanganku sehingga kering. Aku terus mencium bibir cipap Cikgu Mira dengan lembut. Aku rasa seperti mencium mulut Cikgu Mira, cuma aroma cipapnya sahaja yang memberikan kelainan daripada mencium mulutnya.

Terangkat punggungnya menahan kenikmatan itu. Cipapnya aku jilat, aku tusukkan lidahku ke dalam lubangnya. Dia mendesah keenakan sambil menggeliat manja. Biji kelentitnya aku jilat, hisap dan aku kulum semahu-mahunya. Cipapnya basah kembali sambil aku terus menggentel teteknya. Dengan tiba-tiba Cikgu Mira menyembamkan cipapnya ke mukaku sambil mengerang, serentak dengan itu habis mulutku basah dengan simbahan air dari cipapnya. Aku sebenarnya tidak sempat mengelak kerana dia tiba-tiba sahaja menyembamkan cipapnya ke mukaku.

Aku terus menghisap air yang keluar dari cipap Cikgu Mira. Rasanya payau masin. Aku terus membenamkan muka di situ dan terus menjilat lurah yang basah berair. Cikgu Mira hanya merintih manja sambil meliukkan tubuhnya. Aku meneruskan hisapanku dan aku mengulum-ngulum kelentitnya sambil memainkan lubang nya dengan jari. Sekali lagi dia terkejang kepuasan, dan airnya menerjah masuk ke dalam mulutku. Dengan air maninya yang masih mengalir di dalam mulutku, aku mencium mulut Cikgu Mira. Cikgu Mira menghisap lidahku dan air maninya sendiri di dalam mulutku. Bahagian cipapnya aku lehat sudah begitu merah dan rekahan bibir pantatnya sedikit terbuka kesan di belasah mulutku tadi.

“Cikgu.. Sedap tak?” Aku bertanya.
“Emm. Sedap Zam cikgu tak tahan Zamm emmphh..” balasnya.
“Cikgu tau tak, cikgu dah minum air cikgu sendiri tadi.”
“Cikgu tau, dah biasa dah” balas nya.

Rupa-rupanya Cikgu Mira selalu melancap dan menjilat jarinya sendiri.

“Ermm. Cikgu. Boleh tak. Kalau saya nak tu?” Tanyaku.
“Emm. Ok. Tapi Zam kena slow-slow sebab cikgu masih dara”, katanya.

Terkejut aku kerana Cikgu Mira rupanya masih dara lagi. Patutlah lubang nya masih begitu sempit semasa aku menjolok dengan jari tadi. Aku rasa amat gembira kerana aku akan menjadi orang pertama yang merasmikan pantat cikguku yang masih dara yang diingini oleh ramai insan bernama lelaki.

“Wow.. Cikgu. Saya sayang cikgu selama-lamanya.!!” kataku.

Aku mencium dahinya sebagai tanda sayang. Cikgu Mira hanya tersenyum. Aku pun menanggalkan seluar dalamku dan batangku terus tercanak. Cikgu Mira terkejut kerana ini kali pertama dia melihat batang lelaki secara life. Aku mengesel-gesel kepala batangku di mulutnya, dan Cikgu Mira memberikan ciuman yang mengghairah kan kepada kepala batangku. Mahu jer aku terpancut kerana dicium oleh Cikgu Mira tetapi aku berjaya mengawalnya.

Aku menghempap tubuhku ke atasnya dengan perlahan sambil mencium wajahnya. Aku gesel-geselkan batangku dengan cipapnya. Aku mengesel ke kiri dan ke kanan batangku di alur rekahan itu untuk mendapatkan bahan pelicin semula jadi. Cikgu Mira menggeliat menahan nikmat. Setelah mendapat kedudukan selesa, aku membetulkan kedudukanku dan meletakkan kemaluanku di hujung rekahan cipapnya. Cikgu Mira membuka kangkangnya sedikit untuk menyenangkan aku memasukkan batangku. Aku pun terus melabuhkan kepala batangku ke dalam cipapnya.

Cipap Cikgu Mira begitu ketat sekali. Buat permulaan aku hanya berjaya memasukkan kepala batang sahaja. Aku mengeluarkan kembali senjataku dan cuba memasukkannya semula. Aku berjaya memasukkan batangku ke dalam cipapnya dan aku juga telah berjaya menembusi selaput daranya. Cikgu Mira kesakitan tetapi tidak lama. Aku tahu aku berjaya memecahkan daranya setelah aku lihat ada kesan darah keluar melalui lubangnya dan mengalir ke lantai semasa aku mencabut batangku dari cipapnya.

“Arrghh.. Mm..” Aku tusuk batangku sehingga masuk sepenuhnya ke dalam cipap Cikgu Mira.

Aku mula mendayung kelur masuk dengan perlahan-lahan. Aku sorong tarik batangku diiringi suara mengerang oleh Cikgu Mira sambil aku melihat panorama di bawah, sungguh indah apabila melihat daging cipap Cikgu Mira keluar masuk mengikut ayunan batangku. Bunyi terjahan batangku ke dalam cipap Cikgu Mira cukup menawan. Punggung Cikgu Mira bergerak-gerak atas dan bawah mengikuti rentak dayungan. Sesekali dia menggoyangkan punggungnya kiri dan kanan untuk membantu dayunganku, terasa batangku menggesel-gesel dinding kiri dan kanan cipapnya.

Aku lajukan dayungan dengan suara yang agak kuat, dan Cikgu Mira mengerang dan menjerit begitu kuat. Aku tusukkan batangku sedalam-dalamnya ke dalam cipap Cikgu Mira dengan tidak semena-mena batang aku tidak dapat dikeluarkan kerana Cikgu Mira telah klimaks. Aku bernasib baik kerana masih belum memancutkan maniku didalam pantatnya. Setelah beberapa ketika, barulah aku mengeluarkan batangku dari cipapnya. Aku hampir klimaks dan aku berjaya menahannya. Kalau tak habislah aku kalau Cikgu Mira mengandung. Cikgu Mira sudah pun keletihan.

“Zam. Terima kasih sebab tak pancut dalam. Cikgu tak sempat bagi tau sebab terlalu sedap tadi”, kKatanya kepadaku.
“Emm. Memang tanggungjawab saya. Saya takut cikgu mengandung. Err. Cikgu boleh tak puaskan saya.” Aku meminta Cikgu Mira melancapkan batangku.
“Baik. Tapi cikgu nak rasa air mani Zam yer.”

Aku bersyukur kerana air mani aku tidak membazir. Aku setuju sahaja. Cikgu Mira terus melancap dan menghisap batangku dan aku rasa begitu sedap sekali tidak tergambar dengan kata-kata. Aku memegang kepala Cikgu Mira dan aku menusuk sedalam-dalam yang boleh ke dalam mulut Cikgu Mira kerana aku telah mencapai klimaks. Maniku terus memancut ke dalam kerongkongnya dan dia tersedak-sedak. Semua air maniku selamat bertakung di dalam perutnya. Aku rasa sangat gembira. Aku mengambil lagi sapu tanganku dan mengelap sisa air yang masih mengalir keluar dari cipap Cikgu Mira. Aku mengeringkan bahagian itu dengan kerelaannya. Aku juga mengelap sebahagian dari selaput dara di lantai kelasku untuk kubuat kenangan. Aku membangunkan Cikgu Mira dan dia bersiap-siap untuk balik. Aku mula memakai pakaianku. Kami diam membisu buat beberapa ketika. Cikgu Mira juga telah siap berpakaian.

“Emm. Cikgu. Terima kasih cikgu. Cikgu lah guru yang paling baik bagi saya” kataku.
“Cikgu pun gitu juga. Zam hebatlah. Serba serbi pandai.” Gurau cikguku sambil mencubit lenganku.
“Cikgu. Bila lagi kita boleh buat ni?” Tanyaku.
“Zam datanglah tuisyen kat rumah”.

Waahh. Ini sudah bagus. Cikgu Mira telah memberi ruang untuk kumelakukan seks dengannya. Maknanya tak paying lah aku merugikan maniku menggunakan tangan lagi.

“Cikgu.. Boleh tak saya ambik seluar dalam ngan coli cikgu.. Nak buat kenangan.” kataku.

Cikgu Mira tersenyum dan menyelakkan kainnya dan menanggalkan kembali coli dan seluar dalamnya lalu diberikan kepadaku. Aku mencium panties nya dan memasukkan ke dalam beg aku. Cikgu Mira meminta seluar dalamku sebagai kenangan.

“Ermm.. Tapi.. Macam mana saya nak balik cikgu? Nanti orang nampak ‘benda’ ni”.
“Alah.. Pakai lah seluar cikgu tu” cadang cikguku. Batangku kembali mencanak.
“Hihihhi. Ok”.

Aku memberikan seluar dalamku kepadanya dan aku memakai seluar dalam cikgu matematikku itu. Aku berjanji dengannya aku akan sentiasa memakai seluar dalamnya kemana sahaja aku pergi. Aku juga tak membenarkan Cikgu Mira membersihkan saki baki air dan darah dara yang terdapat di lantai itu.

Sebelum kami berpisah, aku sempat meraba cipap Cikgu Mira yang tidak berpanties setelah aku singkap kainnya. Cikgu Mira membiarkan sahaja. Kami balik ke rumah masing-masing pada pukul 6 petang. Cikgu Mira menghantarku ke rumah dengan keretanya. Sebelum keluar, aku sekali lagi menyentuh cipapnya dan memberi kucupan di cipapnya itu. Cikgu Mira hanya mendesah sahaja. Kami pun berpisah buat sementara waktu.

Keesokan harinya, aku pergi ke sekolah memakai seluar dalam Cikgu Mira. Setiap kali aku berjumpa dengannya, aku menegurnya secara biasa dan jika tiada orang aku menanyakan bagaimana keadaan cipapnya. Batang aku pula akan terus mencanak jika ternampak sahaja Cikgu Mira kerana seluar dalamnya sedang kupakai.

Sewaktu subjek math, Cikgu Mira masuk mengajar di kelas dan ternampak kesan merah yang telah kering di lantai depan kelas. Cikgu hanya tersenyum dan aku tau, itulah tanda perhubungan kami yang nyatanya bukan perhubungan pelajar dan guru. Sehinggalah aku berada di universiti, hubungan kami masih lagi kekal dan dia masih belum berkahwin. (Tumpukan kerjanya katanya). Aku pula sudah tidak melancap kerana nasihat Cikgu Mira supaya belajar bersungguh-sungguh. Dan setiap kali aku balik kampung aku pasti menghubunginya untuk melakukan seks sambil menservis kembali batangku. Kerana aku tau Cikgu Mira hanya melakukan seks hanya dengan aku. Walaupun dia anak dara tua, cipapnya masih lagi muda untuk aku, dan masih lagi ketat. Yang pasti, perutku sentiasa penuh dengan airnya setiap kali aku balik lampung. Aku akan mengahwininya setelah aku mendapat kerja nanti.

Leopard Bra

What You Want

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” she said, tugging my hand down the front of her skirt and pressing it home into the hollow of her crotch. The material was thin; there was nothing beneath her linen skirt.

The sound of drunken conversation leaked out into the humid air. The shadows lay heavy across her face, turning her features to monochromatic stone, but the erosion was there, at the corner of her eye, where the light lay like a brand over her left cheek.

“How pissed are you?”

I shrugged. “Not very. Not at all, really.”

“Is that going to be a problem then? Will you get squeamish and develop a conscience?”

It was a challenge I didn’t bother to answer. Instead, I slipped my hand out from under hers, crooked a finger, and brought it up to brush along the line of illuminated skin. She had a light sheen of sweat on her upper lip. “What’s the hurry?”

“I misread you. My mistake.” she said. The words were clipped, angry. Shouldering her purse, she turned to go.

I caught her by the wrist. “You didn’t misread me.”

It was the truth. In the bar, I’d been interested. When she knocked back the shooter of tequila, I’d been interested. As she gathered her hair up off her sweat-damp neck while talking, and pulled it crossly into a ponytail. There was a tension to almost everything she did. As if every word and act were ejected with disdain. Now, as she responded to what she thought was a rejection, there was a barely contained violence to her. I liked it. And very few men are totally immune to a woman who wears no panties.

She tried to tug free – not with any determination – but I held on to her arm. When she turned to speak, I could see, even in the dim light of the streetlamp, she was crying.

“Then you misread me,” she muttered. “I’m not after a date. Just a fuck.”

“This is a strange place to be after a simple fuck. They’re so cheap to buy here, and far less complicated. For one thing, a bought fuck doesn’t cry.”

I wanted to make my point with clarity. In a city where you can get a whore for a night for under twenty dollars, the zipless fuck loses its attraction.

Unable to pull the caught hand out of my grasp, she swung the other one at me, fisted. It missed my face, landing on my shoulder with a thud that would eventually, I was sure, make a handsome bruise.

“Fuck you,” she hissed.

“As I already explained, I’m interested, but could we calm down a bit first?”

“Let go of my arm.”

“Only if you promise not to hit me again. Not that I mind a bit of anger. Personally, I’m into it.”

She glared, her eyes black in the gloom. The streetlamp caught on the tears like shards. I can’t say the sniffling was attractive, but my mind was still stalled on her state of unpantiedness, which overrode the nasal congestion. Lust is like that.

I felt her arm relax in my grasp, and I released it. But as soon as I did, she swung at me again, open handed. Her palm landed on my face with a force that both hurt and shocked me.

I’d had enough. “The next time you hit me, I’m going to hit you back. You realize that, don’t you?” I said this as calmly as I could. The slap had left a faint hum in my right ear and I couldn’t be sure of my delivery.

Instead of offering me more violence, she leaned her forehead against the wall beside me and began bawling in a way I hadn’t heard since primary school. It was full throated, stuttered with hiccups and there was, from the sound of it, a great deal of fluid of one sort or another being produced and expelled.

I looked around – certain someone passing by would think I was doing something awful to this woman. Then, not sure what else to do, I gave her a few tentative pats on the back.

Either she hid drunkenness extremely well, or this woman was out of her fucking mind. Most probably it was the later. And, yes, I should have given her one last friendly pat, and gone home, but there was still the maddeningly delicious fact that she was absolutely bare beneath that skirt.

The combination of wanton slut, strident bitch and blubbing lunatic had an unaccountable charm for me. I’m not particularly normal myself. I invited her back to my house.

She looked up, flicking a mess of damp, dark wisps off her face with an angry shake of her head. Then wiped her nose on her sleeve.

“Sure. Okay.”

* * *

There was no way to read her acceptance. I puzzled it as we walked along the wide, silent boulevard. The pride of the French who had colonized the place, Le Duan was deserted at midnight. Only the occasional passing motorcycle shot through the thick, humid silence.

We didn’t talk and, every so often, I glanced to my side to be sure she was still walking beside me. Her feet made no sound on the pavement and it was then I noticed she’d taken off her shoes and was barefoot. Her sandals dangled by from a single hooked finger.

That would make anyone who knows how filthy the streets of Saigon are shudder. It gave me a sense of her intense vulnerability – not an unpleasant feeling – and I reached down to her free hand, clasping it in mine. But the minute I did, she shook it away.

“Don’t you at least want to pretend we’re lovers?”

“No. Why?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just humane.”

“Fuck humane.” She said it with a quiet brutality.

“Okay.”

What else could I say? But her remark, so casually tossed at me, turned me cold. Who gave a shit if she was not wearing underwear? Did I really need to get laid that badly? No.

Call me squeamish, but the idea of fucking her had lost its allure.

We walked the rest of the way in silence and, as we turned down the alley leading to my house, I was formulating polite ways to make some excuse and send her home. I’ve always found it hard to admit I’ve changed my mind and, after a few moments, I realized I had to say it anyway. We’d reached the gate of my house; my keys were in my hand.

“Look,” I said, feeling like a shit, although I couldn’t explain why, “this isn’t going to work for me. Let me call you a taxi.”

She didn’t respond.

I waited until the silence became almost unbearable, then I unlocked my gate and pushed it open. “Come on. I’ll give you some coffee so you can sober up, then we can get you a cab.”

Again, she said nothing. For a moment, she stood glaring at me with the kind of hatred you only see in the eyes of religious fanatics.

“Fine.” She spat the word and stepped into the tiled courtyard. “What a fucking asshole,” she muttered as she passed me.

I’ve been told that, when I get really angry, I develop a rather alarming smile. I could feel it stretching the skin on my face as I pulled the gate closed, crossed the courtyard and climbed the steps to my front door. It was dark in the yard, but I could sense her behind me as I bent down to take my shoes off before letting myself in.

“You’re not coming in,” I said. “Not after walking all the way in bare feet. They’re filthy.”

“They’re not.” She slumped down onto the stair and pulled up a foot to look at the sole.

I opened the front door, glancing down. “They are. God knows what you’ve caught walking around like that.”

“How the fuck are you going to give me coffee if you don’t let me in?”

Frankly, I was hoping she’d forgotten the offer of coffee.

“I’ll wash them,” she said, abruptly. “Where’s your hose?”

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath of the moist night air. Suddenly I felt worn out, and a mild metallic pain was gnawing at my brain, behind my eyes. Bad red wine.

“It’s over there.” I pointed vaguely toward a rusty spigot in the corner of the terrace. “Suit yourself.”

As I walked into my living room, I heard her turn the water on. The house was dark and I switched on a few lamps on my way into the kitchen.

Only when I’d filled the kettle and put it on to boil did I admit it wasn’t her feet I didn’t want in my house; it was her mind. Well, this is something close to the edge of the world, I reminded myself. The foreigners who end up here were, for the most part, misers, misfits or losers. I knew which one I was and I was pretty sure about what she was, too.

When I brought the coffee tray into the living room, she was lounging on my couch – absolutely naked – with her legs open as wide as it was humanly possible to spread them.

* * *

It took me a moment to work up an appropriate reaction. My cock twitched to life, like the predicable, mindless moron it was. I took in the display: the petulant expression beneath the tangle of curls; her nipples, small and nearly black against the skin of her small breasts; her hips canted, pushing out the bones to make a well of her lower stomach. The sharp tendons of her thighs stood out from the bandage-white skin. They quivered with the tension of her spread. Between them, her cunt was bare and splayed: her inner lips brutally crimson.

A lit cigarette dangled between her fingers. She took a drag and exhaled a stream of smoke up at the ceiling, leaving her gaze to settle there. “Fuck me,” she said in a small, absent voice.

I put down the tray so as not to drop it and tried desperately to will away my erection, only to acknowledge the futility of the effort. I had also forgotten to breathe.

“You…” I swallowed against a dry throat. “You can’t smoke in my house.”

I kicked myself mentally for the complete inanity of my response, but the cliche of blood-flow is truer than anyone cares to admit.

She took another deep drag and then casually let the burning cigarette drop onto the tiled floor, as if she were at an outdoor coffee stall. “Fuck me.”

“No.”

“It’s what you want.”

“No!” I barked, stooping to retrieve the burning cigarette and stubbing it out with vehemence on one of the saucers on the coffee tray. “You need to get dressed and go. Now!”

When I looked up it was to watch her languidly slide a hand, fingers splayed, between her legs. Even from that distance, the flesh sounded wet as her fingers skated over it. The tip of her finger worried her clit for a moment, and then she reached down, pushing it into her opening.

I hated this woman. I wanted her out of my house and my life just as fast as I could manage to eject her. I also wanted my cock buried in that tight, hot cunt with a ferocity that brought tears to my eyes. Conflicted didn’t begin to describe my state of mind.

Paralyzed, I watched her slump further down the sofa. She paused for a beat, then joined her first finger to a second and plunged the pair deep inside herself. Her hips rose up to meet her hand and she began to fuck herself almost viciously, raking her thumb across her clit with every inward thrust.

This wasn’t someone masturbating luxuriantly; it was like being a witness to self-inflicted violation. It told in her face. There was no pleasure in there, just manic desperation. And, oddly enough, that made me harder. If she had gasped and moaned and writhed, I could have focused on her selfishness and maintained some sense of distance. But it was so visually clear that she was only performing this act as an illustrated set of instructions, I couldn’t stop myself from falling into the vortex of it.

Even as I unbuckled my belt and unzipped my chinos, I damned myself for being weak. A black tide of self-hatred climbed my spine as I stepped around the coffee table and between her legs, freeing my erection from the confines of my boxers.

“Let’s get this straight. This is what you want,” I growled, tugging her hand away from her crotch.

She looked up at me with a sickening sort of triumph. One hand under her ass, I raised her hips. I angled my cock and shoved myself into her with all the rage I had inside me. The lizard part of my brain was determined to fuck that obscene expression off her face.

* * *

That first thrust felt so fucking good. Everything I had imagined it would be. Fiercely hot, impossibly tight – she had the angriest cunt I’d ever been in. It was monstrous, delicious. I ploughed into her over and over, bracing myself against the back of the sofa, lifting her until the blood rushed to her head, giving her pale skin a deep rose flush.

Her muscles seized me until it felt like I would never be able to pull out of her. I knew I wasn’t going to last, but it was a ghost of a thought; I didn’t care. My pulse was thundering in my ears, pushing me on, goading me to fuck her harder, faster, until my thrusts matched its rhythm.

Suddenly her back arched, her muscles went rigid and her heels dug into the back of my thighs. That initial spasm was a door swinging open. I plunged in, through her orgasm and came as hard as I’ve ever come in my life.

The vertigo was overwhelming. My knees almost gave in. It felt like minutes went by and still I could not stop erupting into that dark, angry cave. And with every spurt, I could feel my own rage abating.

When my vision cleared, she was staring up at me. The triumph had gone, her features had softened. She nodded, trying to catch her breath.

“Yup. That did the trick,” she said.

I pulled out, let her hips drop onto the couch and collapsed into the cushions beside her. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. It felt like my soul was full of gaping cavities and she’d put them there.

“Admit it, it’s what you wanted.”

I stared at her mutely.

She sat up and gathered up the mess of her hair, pulling it back and tying it with a rubber band that had been on her wrist the whole time. “Admit it!”

Never in my life had I felt so completely manipulated. The self-hatred came flooding back, settling heavily into the pit of my stomach. And I had no doubt that she knew exactly what I was feeling. She’d orchestrated it all.

“You’re like a disease,” I said finally. “You know that?”

This isn’t normally what I say to women I’ve just had sex with – usually we kiss, and fall asleep and eat breakfast together – but the words tumbled out before I could stop them.

They didn’t faze her. She fished her cigarettes out of her purse, lodged one between her lips and stood up. “I know,” she said, with a small snort that I assumed was a laugh.

She walked out of my living room, naked as the day she was born, and onto the darkened terrace. I assumed she’d left her clothes out there.

Of course, I should have relented and been polite. I should have gotten up and seen her out. But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I sprawled on the sofa until I heard the outer gate slam shut and then fell asleep.

I spent the next week trying to mentally paper over that evening. Every time I thought of her, it was like a nail rusting away in my brain. The harder I attempted to forget about the whole debacle, the more vivid and present the memories became. I had no idea what she’d done to me; only that I craved it with suffocating intensity. By the following Saturday, I found myself back at bar where we’d met, looking for her, like a junkie jonesing for a fix.

Nature