T and Will

“You did what!?” T picks up his cell phone. “Man, you hear this shit? This shit’s crazy.”
The way T’s laughing and carrying on to the guy on the phone with him, I’m feeling pretty proud of myself for the way I handled the situation.
“Shit girl, did you sever it? Where is he? Is he cryin’?”
“No I didn’t sever it… I just bit it …hard. What was I supposed to do, he wouldn’t let me go”.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. But it wasn’t like that. I didn’t go down on him. He said he had wanted to talk to me outside. Actually, he had said that he wanted to feel my lips on his, one more time; that would have been the second time. The first time was a peck; he had had his hands between my legs and all over my lap in the car on the way to the bar and at the red light he had made me feel his astonishing thick, eight inch “personality”. He was Salvadorian and Italian and I couldn’t resist his dark eyes and Latino accent. Now normally, it was I who grabbed first, but tonight, for the first time, it was different. Tonight I felt the burden that I was carrying.
When we got to the bar, he wanted to grab me in the parking lot and then again in the bar while we sat on the bar stools; but I didn’t want it. How could I fool around when T was sitting was with us? I had been overwhelmingly depressed for good reasons at Crazy Eights, and he had sat down next to me and talked on and on about how we were going to be the best of friends as slowly he inched his barstool closer to mine and he talked to me of going fishing and art and bowling, things I actually enjoy doing and I forgot about being sad and the billiards and all the rounds of beer that he and T and other’s had guzzled down.
But at the bar, I didn’t want to kiss him there with T sitting right next to me. I didn’t want to give him a real kiss with my lips and my tongue loving on his lips and his tongue; I didn’t want to kiss him for real, because he had a fiancée. He had a fiancée whom I had met and shook hands with four hours prior to the three of us going to the bar. And five hours prior to the three of us going to the bar, I had met the he and T for the first time at the Crazy Eights pool hall. And seven hours prior to that, I had received news from my doctor that I had signs of the human papiloma virus and other atypical cells in my cervix. And one hour later, I had gone to the liquor store to stock up on gin and juice, then to the gas station to make sure I would make it to Sam’s birthday party, but the gas pumps weren’t working, because the gas pump attendant said I had laid my debit card down on the magnetic strip at the liquor store and that had ruined the strip on my card and that’s why the pay at the pump hadn’t worked, but he fixed it which calmed me down a bit, but the fact that I had gone to the grocery store and spent twenty minutes looking for the damn pineapple juice for the gin and juice that I had purchased for Sam’s birthday, had pushed me over the edge, and my best friends in North Carolina hadn’t answered their phones so I could tell them the bad news, and so I spent the whole drive down to Crazy Eights from Leesburg to Sterling cursing God the Almighty for fucking over my whole life by cursing me with the lonely girls burden.
But at the bar, he was in control of my delicate state. He told me again that if I would be his new friend and lover and playmate and that if he really liked me, he would leave his fiancée. And at the pool house, this thought had excited me and I opened my legs so that he could feel how excited it made me. And that had driven him on, it had given him a newly energized and even more powerful clutch on the situation, but I would not figure that out until a few hours later when the three of us were at the bar and he was urgently begging me for a second kiss.
I had told him and T hours before that I had a 1:30 am curfew, which was new; and that I had to leave by 12:30 am to get home on time. But it was completely obvious to me at 11:30 pm that he was going to have his way with Cinderella by the stroke of midnight despite what she said. Of course I was frustrated, but mostly I was upset. I had been cheated on once before and it had been a bad breakup, a real bad breakup. It had been the kind of high school breakup that lands you in the hospital for a day and in therapy for the rest of your life. In hindsight though, that therapy had been one of the good parts of my life, because here I was now recognizing that what this engaged man was doing was wrong and that his fiancée should know that this is how he acts around other women and that she should not have to feel the way that I know she will feel when she finds out that he has cheated on her.
And I start to realize that this man is sleazy. Earlier he couldn’t tell me why he loved his fiancée and why he had proposed to her other than the fact that he had to hold onto the one woman that he thought was the one. But now, by pursuing me and my body so avidly, he was threatening his own marriage, his own sacred ceremony; the one ceremony that I have spent countless nights yearning for.
When I asked for my bill, that bartender had put T and his’ beers on my tab, and I was not about to pay for their bill: we had just met, but we weren’t exactly old pals. I was just going to pay for my part of the bill, but he kept saying some bullshit about how I was his friend now and I guess his lover and how he was going to pick up the tab, but I was confused on why he wanted to pay, when I had my own money, but I gave up on trying to understand his nonsense and left the bill on the counter.
T was so dazed from the 5 or so pitchers of beer, and the beer at the bar which he had split with his friends, that he didn’t really talk to me except when my pursuer went to the bathroom. Then he leaned over to me and said “you see those two men across from us”? “They’re playas. They’re about to dump hundreds, maybe thousands of dollars on those girls tonight”. Those girls he was talking about looked nothing like me. They were both skinny, clear faced, and had huge breasts that were spilling out of their low necked shirts. There was a white man and a black man chatting it up with the girls. I could tell that the black man had style and finesse; he looked liked he could be a nice guy, but he had to step back from his game, because the white guy was desperate. The white guy was so desperate he was high-fiving the girls, I guess whenever he had something in common with them. I could tell by the way the girls were laughing that they were more laughing at him and his pathetic game then they were at the things they may have had in common.
T fell back into a daze when he came back from the bathroom and tried to slide his hands around my thighs. Throughout the hour or so at the bar, I had told him to stop, stop, stop, stop! But then afterwards, I had made the mistake of grabbing him under the table. He told me that it wasn’t fair that I could touch but he couldn’t touch me back. And finally, when I couldn’t hold him back anymore, he followed me outside, as we left T at the bar.
He had said he had just wanted to feel my lips on his, but the truth was that had been part of his plan. He must have known that if he could get me outside in the parking lot to chat, that he could just as easily get me into my car to chat, and once we got into my car, he stroked me again, which was hard to resist. But I did. I didn’t want him to do those things to me, in a car, in a lit parking lot, while T was waiting for us at the bar, and we had told him that we would go outside a moment to talk. I told him that I didn’t want to do this in a parking lot, I didn’t want to get arrested for public-god-knows-what and that I had to be home soon. He said alright; he said that he would go, but he looked at me so sincerely and asked for just one last kiss. And, of course, I melted. And I leaned forward to kiss him, and we kissed for a moment and then he pushed his mouth back into mine and locked himself onto my face. He was using his hand to grab the back of my head and push it into his face and his other hand to grab between my legs. I tried to pull my head backwards, but I couldn’t; he was actually forcing my head into his so he could lip lock me and I kept pulling my head back, because it was starting to be that I couldn’t breathe, and he kept holding me tight so that couldn’t get out of his grip, and for a moment fear rushed through me, because I wasn’t in control of the situation, but in the next moment I took control. In the next moment, his tongue entered my mouth and instead of reciprocating, I bit down with my teeth; I bit down on his tongue to the point where I could feel it actually crunch under my teeth. And immediately he let go of my head and jerked away, looking at me bewildered, as if I was the one who had stepped over the line, and he grabbed my rearview mirror of my car and twisted it in such a way towards him to look at his tongue in the mirror that I became immediately alarmed that he was going to break off the mirror to my brand new Honda Fit, and that’s when I starting screaming.
“Get out of my car! Get the fuck out of my car!”
And in the next moment, he got the fuck out of my car, and I immediately locked the car doors, and reversed the car out of the parking lot and I pulled in next to T’s car, because I had seen him walk past my car on his way out of the bar, where he must have thought we had bailed on him to go to a hotel room, but we hadn’t, and I wanted to say goodbye to him, before I drove home for the night.
I wanted to say goodbye because he hadn’t done me wrong that night, his friend had. After we exchanged numbers, he told me to just brush off what happened tonight, to just brush it off my shoulder, and as I sat there thinking whether I should pull out or not, he came and stood next to my car, and I rolled up the windows and smiled sardonically at him, with the doors locked. And I thought to myself, that maybe I had gone too far, but at the same time that he shouldn’t have held on to me, but before I could really think things through, T pulled out of the parking space, in his black sedan, and I followed the two friends. Sitting at a stop sign, I watched them cross the double lanes, pulling straight ahead of me, on their way to Fairfax, where I knew T lived, and I turned left and then left again at the intersection, and finally, I turned my back on them.