Primal Scream (Box Set #1, Taboo Sex + AFF) (31 page)

Nir got it. That one line from Drea contained all of her distress. She’d confided in him. She needed some help eradicating this person from her mind and life. She wanted him to deliver what she was asking for, one hundred per cent. He saw her calamity, the violent agitation lying in her, her desperation. He was being asked to nurture and comfort her, through sex.

She was a virgin harlot—
virgin
harlot—the pressure was on.

“
And you’re asking…me?” Nir asked. Drea couldn’t help but smile at the non-condescending tone in Nir’s voice, and the serious, slightly bewildered expression on his beautiful face. He leaned forward, going closer to her. “To satisfy you…”

He was hard and she was wet, when they made eye contact.

Drea didn’t know who was having the upper hand, or controlling the conversation. She didn’t care. The end justified all means.

“
I…” she started, then paused, searching for the right words. “I don’t need fireworks in bed…”

She spoke a little softer, when one of the waiters passed by very close to their table—a little too close. “And I don’t mean to just ‘use’ you—that’s not my intent”—even though it was using Nir, in a way, but for a greater cause—“I think I just need to…”

Drea noticed one of the paper napkins on the table, and reached out for it. “I’ll write it out.”

Nir excused himself to use the restroom. Drea thought he’d run off, and leave her to pay the bill too—$20.20 for a drink and some dessert, according to the receipt in the leather check pad.

But she began to write on the paper napkin:

I think I just need to have a good sexual experience with someone, something pleasurable and nice and considerate (for first time)…

Nir wanted to take her gently in his arms, cup her face lovingly in his hands, whisper sweet nothings in her ears, kiss her all over, sensually caress her body (hands under her shirt, this time), then pin her ankles behind her ears and boink her till her nose bled.

He looked at his image in one of the mirrors in the restroom, preparing himself to do it. She’d sort of be using this as a means of revenge, even if it was just on a personal level within Drea. He thought it a good cause. He thought her distress was warranted. She’d been clear and direct with what she was asking of him…it was really up to him now, ‘yes’, or ‘no’…it was dependent on how comfortable and sure he was that he could satisfy her, as a man.

He was a little shocked at the swiftness at which she trusted him. She’d seemed so cool and quietly unassuming. She’d certainly “responded” to his flirtatious touches.

Nir’s Virgo Moon and Venus Scorpio sat very well with Drea’s drives and motivations. He felt both comfortable and impressed that she was so open with her underlying feelings, and so forthcoming with sharing them with him, even though they’d only just met a day ago, over the course of twenty minutes or so.

It’d been months since he’d been sexually active. He had been doing quite well without it. Nir found it a great distraction from some of the other things in life. He had had his fair share of wild partying and nameless, faceless sleeping around, with both males and females. He charms worked equally well on both genders of the human species.

He was already getting tired of it, by the time he turned twenty-one. There was more to sex than positions and mind-numbing orgasms; he’d moved on from the pure physical sensations. There had to be something…more to it.

He was past the mantra of “Find, feel, fuck and forget ’em.” It wasn’t about bagging weak women with pickup lines and mind tricks. Drea was a perfect willing partner, imploring him to love the hell out of her—mind, body and soul.

Drea handed him the note when he was out, written on two paper napkins:

I think I just need to have a good sexual experience with someone, something pleasurable and nice and considerate (for first time)…and this will help me move on from the useless person that I was stuck with for so long. It’d be an abstract kind of ‘revenge’. Again, I don’t mean to ‘just use you,’ but I thought you might understand where I’m coming from. I have to get rid of this person from my life. He was the first person I had sexual feelings for. I need him to DIE ALREADY so that I can MOVE ON with my LIFE—like he has. He told me so. He said that I “have to handle it by myself because he has a g/f now.”

Nir Balsar nodded, and said nothing, as they stood up to leave. He just reached a hand over to the inward curve of Drea’s waist, where he’d rested his hand the other day, to lead her to follow him.

He didn’t know yet that she’d actually be the one ravaging him, more so than the other way around, once they were behind closed doors.

But he kept calm and confident, which his touch conveyed, which was exactly what she wanted. Girls liked passion—their time together wouldn’t be fast and meaningless. She’d told him what she wanted, and he didn’t fight it. This established a connection between them.

He walked with her to his car, which was parked a short distance away at the underground car park. She would go down already if he exposed himself—he knew, he could see the hunger in her eyes, which accompanied a lascivious lick of her lips—the car drive was the foreplay for them. She didn’t even know where he was taking her. She couldn’t resist—she grabbed his nuts, hard, at a red light. He was just about to unzip his jeans. But he had to keep his eye on the road!

Drea seemed dangerous—demure on the surface, but wild and potentially lethal and a little crazy, underneath.

Dangerous
…he wondered if she’d take away his time and money if she could, like Michael Jackson sang about in the ‘Dangerous’ track.

She had a tight and sweet body, the sight of which could make a man fall in love. He was naturally drawn to physical beauty and aesthetics. It had already happened before, in the past. Did he never learn?

Sexual pleasure in women was a kind of magic spell; it demanded complete abandon; if words or movements opposed the magic of caresses, the spell would be broken. Nir kept this in mind, as he drove up to a nearby upscale boutique hotel, with quirky rooms fit for (kinky) royalty. He had his arm around Drea’s shoulder and was getting his hand down her shirt in the hallway, as they approached their room. He held her face with his other hand—she took his hand, and kissed it passionately. She loved his hands that could make her stop doing and thinking about anything, and feel as if she was literally losing actual brain cells—she put one of his fingers in her mouth, and started sucking on it like it was what her mouth was made to do.

Drea had made the right choice—Nir was a man who took the time to map the bodies of the women he was intimate with. He’d long known that a little patience yielded great rewards.

A lifetime of “not doing anything with anyone” made Drea now ready to do anything with the man she found herself alone in the room with.

Their warm bodies first slammed up against, then melted into each other, as they engaged each other with full intensity—it was all or nothing, nothing in between—sucking on each other’s kisses, sweet hot kisses that Drea had always ached for. She’d been bleeding dry for catharsis and to move on from the stagnant issues within the unhealthy pseudo-relationship she’d been in with Jack for so long.

Drea and Nir memorized the color of their eyes, as they lost themselves in each other. They made love through the whole night, in a wild frenzy at times, with her on top and all over him, and slower when he was calling the shots, and had his body over hers in leg-locked missionary style.

Their legs entwined whenever she drifted off beside him. He would still be there when she woke up early the next morning.

* * *

IV. Epilogue/Eulogy

Monday, 15 June 2010 | 9.10am

Drea sent two messages to Jack, when she got home:

I did it (yes, full sex, and more) with a very hot Israeli guy, after explaining why I wanted to, and why I had to. The incident proves I have moved on from my fixation with having to have my first sexual experience with you / I did it, and I don’t need to bother with you anymore.

Drea would have left it at that. She’d gotten what she wanted, and for the first time in a long time, felt free to just be herself again, out of the control of Jack’s invisible, manipulative, sadistic stranglehold on her.

She’d packed her bags and was ready to leave for the airport. Nir said she could add him as a friend on Facebook if she wished, which she’d just done, with an accompanying ‘thank you’ note of gratitude. She’d woken him up by grazing her nipple over his lips.

She heard a text message come in on her cell phone. She read Jack’s reply:

Yeah, okay…if you say so. Knock yourself out.

Drea would have left it at this too—she felt satisfied. Even her skin was so much better, and she slept 1000% better when Jack was dead to her.

But apparently, Jack had trouble holding his tongue, in defense of his bruised ego.

Another text message came in from him:

I don’t know what makes you think you have the right to go around dissecting everybody in your life. I don’t know why you never took anything that I said seriously. I already told you that I have a girlfriend, and you are just being disrespectful to me and my g/f, with the way you’re acting and the things you’re saying.

Drea could’ve sworn she felt a brain aneurysm coming on. He just didn’t get it, the fucking asswipe. He was a pathetic piece of dickweed. She was emancipated—she was done with being “a friend” and “polite” and “careful” with Jack’s feelings.

She considered not replying—why waste her time and energy anymore on such a useless being? Then she considered calling Jack and giving him a piece of her mind, as a parting gift to him. But she knew he liked words—he had a way with them, even with the selection of song lyrics and online screen names—so she chose to go with the medium he liked best. She had to get it all out of her system, then chill out for a few days at least.

She sent a blitz of text messages, typing as fast as the random but impassioned replies came up in her mind:

In fact, I’m glad nothing happened with you. You’re full of shit and not man enough.

You, talking to me about disrespect? Please. Maybe if you grow up one day, you’ll see what a fucking loser and douchebag you are, that focuses only on yourself.

You’re emotionally incapable—you have no spine, and you’re nothing next to a woman’s sexual power.

And I have a right to dissect you, after all your non-responses/etc, despite me doing my best 2 be emotionally open. It wasn’t clearcut, but it wasn’t easy.

Oh man but the best part is that the sexual benefits you helped bring out, have gone and will go to other people. Karma!

I still remember you telling me to handle the sexual thing by myself, because you’d moved on and were very happy with your new life. Self-centered bastard. Fuck you. I hope you die.

I pity all your girlfriends…past and future ones. Do you know I even though you were “the one”, at one point? Then my friend SX advised me to never marry the first idiot; one of her friends did and it blew to pieces.

At least have the decency to acknowledge, something…yet, even that is too much to ask. Anyway, I’ve 2 seriously leave this behind, so don’t message/talk to/approach me ever again.

That you have the audacity to talk to me like “I” caused “you” trouble (one way only)—how low can you go? C ya, asshole.

They were the best nine text messages Drea had ever sent in her life.

* * *

Monday, 15 June 2010 | 9.10pm

Jack ceased to exist. He was an already faded memory Drea no longer had any attachment to, like a forgotten photograph at the bottom of a discarded box. He was no longer a part of her life, in any kind of way. She didn’t like to cut off all ties with people in her life, but when she did, she did it cleanly, as cool and precise as a surgeon was with a knife.

It was true that Jack was an emotionally incapable being—he continued on with his daily existence, feeling no guilt or remorse about anything Drea had said to and/or about him. As long as he invalidated it in his mind, everything was fine, in his own world. It got to a point where he would be living his own lies that he believed in, until he couldn’t even tell what was real and what wasn’t.

Jack’s new girlfriend was like all his past girlfriends—he continued to bounce from one relationship to another, unsure of what he wanted, unwilling to truly take a stand and settle for something, when it was time to make a decision about something. Decisions had always flustered him. He could never find the precise point of perfection which he associated with pure balance and harmony. He missed many opportunities this way, without ever realizing he was part of the problem.