Gem.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
The first quarter of a short story about a woman's struggle to resist temptation.

Submitted: September 02, 2010

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Submitted: September 02, 2010

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She had always been attracted to what she didn’t have; her past experiences were evidence of such. The thought of someone forbidden touching, feeling her and living in her brought up an intense feeling. It was something more than just ‘cheating’ for her. Something stronger and more worthwhile, otherwise, I feel, she wouldn’t bother doing it.
“Let me,” she said as she smiled with those deep brown eyes of hers. Those eyes could convince me of anything. “No, I can’t!” I exclaimed and slowly drew her hand away. Her hand was aimed at the place I was feeling it all. “But I know you want to. Why can’t we just fulfill our desires?” she asked. “We can’t, you can’t”, I replied. Truth was, I wanted it all. I wanted her hands all over me; I wanted to feel her full lips on ever inch of my body, but it was impossible. It wouldn’t be real enough. At this point her forehead formed a crease and her eyes were filled with intense disappointment. She used this tactic on everyone, and although it worked quite well (I must admit), I couldn’t be the one to reinforce her. “Why can’t we? You’re so used to social convention, but open up a little. Why should we be limited? Act on your feelings, be impulsive. Live a little”, she said. I chuckled to myself a little. Thankfully, it wasn’t loud enough for her to hear.. It was obvious that she was starting to pull out her famous, or rather infamous, charming lines.
“You know we can’t do that. You always regret the things you do and you tell her” I exclaimed.It was true, she did. She belonged to someone else and loved her quite dearly, which is why I couldn’t understand her motives. Maybe it was because she was quite intoxicated. We had shared a bottle of red wine and it seemed to be affecting her more than it did me.She moved in closer,I guess shehad completely disregarded what I had said prior.
“I’m shit”, she proclaimed. ‘Maybe not’, I thought to myself. “Why would you say that, you’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re doing”, I replied hoping to make her feel better.“That’s not an excuse. I mean, why am I doing this? I don’t even know why?” Those words cut deep into me. Was I just a toy to her? A game she could play when she got bored of her spouse? Why me? Why would she torment me? My stomach churned, it felt as though it, like me, was dying a little. She seemed to have noticed my expression; I wasn’t very good at hiding what I felt in front of her. “No, no!” she said. “I didn’t mean that in that way. I d-don’t know what I’m saying half the time. I didn’t think, please!” Every word cut into me deeper. Did she know she had this hold over me? Did my eyes guide her to see? I think not. She was blinded by her own self unimportance. An unimportance that not only affected her but all those subjected to her. Why wouldn’t she see it? I wanted to slap out the learned helplessness that took over her. Could I? Or had this sickness spread? “I’m sorry”, she said as she tried to hug me. I pulled away; I didn’t want to be touched. I didn’t want to be pitied. She pitied me a lot, I think it was sub-conscious. She made mistakes, but always felt guilty.
“What have I done wrong? Why won’t you hug me?” she said. Her eyes looked quite sincere at this point, but I didn’t know with her. Was she really sincere or was it that she had so much experience in human interaction? We sat in awkwardness. I could have sat in silencefor hours, but she always seemed to try and sneak in a word. “I don’t like this, why do you do this?” she said. “I am portrayed as this evil villain and I don’t like it. I don’t like being the bad guy, the person that always hurts. I hurt everyone, you and her. Do you think I want to? Do you think I like it? I’m a sadist, a masochist, a sick fuck and I hate it! Understand me!” I sat in silence. What was I supposed to say to that?It looked as though she took my silence in an offensive way.“I’m sorry”, I said. Her eyes lit up. “No, don’t be sorry. Never be sorry. I should be the apologetic one considering I’m the one who does the majority of the hurting”. I never understood her. She was so confusing, the meaning of the word, ‘contradiction’. I think it was because her views were so neutral. She tried hugging me again. This time, I let her. I wasn’t prepared to hear her complain again. As horrible as that sounded, once she started, it was hard stopping her. The conversation led to politics, literature and world issues. Her moodiness meant that in a period of four hours, infinite topics would be discussed. It was one of the things I found most intriguing about her, you were never bored, always stimulated. It was also, however, quite annoying at times, particularly when I was agitated. She would never stop; I think it was a part of her anxiety.
‘Are you alright?” she asked. “I’m fine”, I replied with a smile. I didn’t want her to know. “You’re not”, she said. “You’re lying to me”. This aspect of her frustrated me. She was one of the most persistent people I knew. I didn’t want to tell her what was wrong, it would upset her. After all, it wasn’t really her fault and I knew that she would think it was. From my side of the table, the conversation was virtually inactive after that. I gave one word answers to her three minute long lecture-type questions. This agitated her. It was obvious that, although she hated both herself and showing off aspects of herself, she loved being listened to. This I never understood. Why did she crave for such attention? I narrowed it down to possible loneliness. Whether her loneliness was real or imagined, however, I never knew.
“What do you think?" she asked. I hadn’t been paying attention to anything she was saying as I was too busy thinking. “W-what? Sorry, what did you ask again?” I replied. Her forehead formed yet another crease as she looked away. This time, however, I could tell that she was sincerely bothered. “Don’t worry”, she mumbled. “No, no! I’m sorry, I went off into a day dream, you see. I didn’t mean to.” I responded. It scared me to see how quickly she believed my lies for the corners of her mouth formed a smile. “Oh ok”, she said. “I said that no one can ever truly understand how you feel at a particular point. You can only understand it if you’re physically living in someone’s head. Then I asked you if you agreed”. I thought about this. It was true; she could never understand what was going on in my head. I mean, she could sympathise but never truly grasp it. This filled me with a feeling of pessimism. “I agree”, I whispered. Her face formed a smile. Why would she smile? “Why are you smiling?” I asked. “Oh, don’t get the wrong idea”, she responded quickly. “It wasn’t a happy smile, but rather, a ‘glad that you agree’ type smile”. I formed a grin. She grinned back at me, “Why are you smiling now then?”
“I always smile”, I responded. She giggled. Her laughter brought up in me an intense feeling of happiness. ‘How did she do that’, I thought to myself. She had a way of making me feel every emotion possible. It amazed me, but at the same time, scared me. It was comforting to know, however, that she wasn’t aware of the way she manipulated people or maybe, she was nicer than I thought.


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