ASHLEY
"I don't think this is working anymore," he said looking down at the bottle of Beer in his hands.
"What do you mean?" I was genuinely confused. I thought it was all working fine. Better than fine. The last six months with Simon had been probably the best six months of my life. I did not constantly feel inadequate when I was with him. He loved me as I am. Or so I thought.
"Come on, Ashley. You know what I mean."
"I don't understand. We are happy, aren't we?" I almost screamed.
Simon glanced around. We were sitting at a bar in downtown Manhattan. The evening crowd was just starting to pour in. It was conveniently close to my office. I worked for one of the big banks and made big bucks. Simon worked in advertising.
"You're happy, not me. Look Ash, You're a good person. But you're so fucking boring. I feel like I'm missing out on a lot of things because I'm with you."
His words felt like a punch to the gut. My throat suddenly felt dry. But I didn't touch the vodka martini I had ordered.
"Are you serious?" I asked in disbelief.
"Yes."
"I'm not boring."
"You don't have any hobbies, Ash. You have no friends; you don't go out. You work, you go home, you work some more, you read a book, you go to sleep. And that's your life. And it's boring as fuck."
"Reading is a hobby."
"What?"
"You said I have no hobby. Reading is a hobby."
"It a pretty fucking boring hobby."
"Okay. So, I'll change. I'll go out and make friends. I'll get any new hobby that you want."
"It's not just that."
"What else than? Tell me, and I'll fix it," I said, trying to channel the fake girlboss persona that I was used to deploy at work.
"I'm not attracted to you anymore. And quite frankly, I feel kinda repulsed by you." He shrugged nonchalantly.
I picked up the glass of vodka martini and pushed all of it down her throat in one go. It burned like hell.
"Why are saying these things? Where is this all coming from? Is it because I make more money than you now?" I regretted saying that as soon as it came out of my mouth.
Simon gulped down the rest of his beer and stood up to leave.
"Alright, I'm out. I'll come by the house sometime to pick up my things."
"Wait, I don't know why I said that. Please sit down, Simon. I didn't mean to say that." I tried to grab him by his arm and make him sit down. He jerked my hand away, with force.
I stood back, my lips quivering, my eyes welling up, the unfathomable reality of the situation dawning on me just then.
He put down a ten-dollar bill on the bar.
"Simon, please. I don't understand."
"Of course you don't, you dumb bitch." He started walking away.
"You're dumb." I shouted loud enough to turn a few heads around the bar.
He turned around, stunned.
I walked up to him, and pointed a finger at him, "You don't like to read because you're dumb".
"Goodbye Ashley." He turned around and left. I picked up my bag and ran to the washroom.
I stood in front of the mirror, my eyes burning from the beams of repulsiveness of my own image; the chatter of other ladies in the washroom dwarfed by my mind screaming contemptuous insults at me.
"You are fat. You are skinny. You are skinny fat. Look at you. Look at that thick nose. You can land a plane on that. Or maybe not, thanks to that disgusting hump on your nose. Look at those thin, barely visible lips. Look at that jawline. Oh, sorry! There is no jawline. And that dry and dirty thinning hair, disgusting. Your face looks like a fat pig. Not your body, though. Your body looks like a dehydrated Potato. You have no boobs. Men have bigger boobs than you. The fat that should have been in your boobs and ass is stuffed in your belly. Your legs have no muscle. Your body is what the word 'Hideous' was made for".
Streaks of tear poured down my eyes.
"Rough day?" I was brought out of my hellish reverie by the voice of a women washing her hands beside me. I looked at her absent-mindedly and ran out of the washroom.
*******
I entered my single bedroom apartment in upper Manhattan, barely standing, severely intoxicated, with an unopened bottle of red wine in my hand.
I plopped down to the cold floor as soon as I closed the door behind me. I called Simon, for the millionth time. It went straight to voice-mail, for the millionth time. "I'd do anything for you Simon. Anything you want. Please Come back, Simon."
I dropped the phone on the floor, fell sideways and started laughing.
I got on all fours, took my phone and crawled towards the bathroom, like a dog.
"Did you meet someone else? A hot girl with pouty lips and big boobs and a slim waist and big butts, is that it? She will crush your heart, Simon. I guarantee you that."
I got into the bathroom and took out an 8-inch dildo from the cupboard. I had bought it on the internet after much inner turmoil, and blushed profusely when the delivery guy handed it over to me. The dildo had a suction cup at the base. I stuck it on the wall.
I put the phone down again, my hands resting on the floor and my face nearing the plastic penis which I imagined to be Simon's. I stared up at the flat wall as if looking at Simon's face. I imagined his eyes staring back at me, imploring me to take his length in my mouth.
"She won't love you like I do. I love you, Simon. I love you. I'd let you do anything to me. Anything you want." I licked the underside of his dick. I slid my tongue from the base of his length to the tip, never breaking eye contact from his imaginary eyes, hands always touching the floor.
I took the tip in my mouth, sucking on it, massaging it with my tongue, trying to press it gently into his peehole. Then I proceeded further down his shaft, bobbing my head back and forth, passionately and methodically.
"Would she let you do this? I would. I would let you grab me by the hair and fuck my face with that giant dick of yours," I said as I engulfed the whole 8-inches in a single thrust, immediately gagging on it and pulling back. I coughed.
