Fool Me Once

"No. It'll just make you sad." I said.

"Do you have this hard a time trusting everyone?" she asked me. As she took a sip of her wine, I allowed myself a quick glance to capture her pristine image: Her long brown hair cascading over her left shoulder leaving her neck exposed on her right. Her silk robe was so perfectly draped on her body, curving at her breasts but cinching at her small waist. She was gorgeous and she knew it.

"Yeah They'll just fuck me over one way or another." I said it glibly, with a smile, but my heart ached when the words left my mouth. I had made my peace with being alone, but every time I picked at that scab, even jokingly, I could feel the sadness forming a lump at the bottom of my throat and the conviction of my fate coursing through my spine as a shiver. I didn't want to be here anymore. I wanted to go home. I wanted to hide. I needed to leave.

Then, she set her wine glass down and turned her head to look at me with her brilliant blue eyes. She lifted a long, silky leg off of the floor and tucked it under her other one so she could turn her torso to match the direction of her attention. She put an arm along the back of the couch so it was almost touching me. Her robe had opened considerably as she maneuvered, and I had to look away lest I gaze upon her too long and betray my true desire.

"God, someone must've done a number on you." She said. I could feel my ears burning and my jaw clenching.

"Yeah, I don't need you to feel sorry for me. People are selfish, they can't help it. I mean, you're this big shot celebrity who's bored of rehearsing lines right now. You don't really care what I say one way or another, which is fine. So let's skip whatever game this is and do our jobs huh?" I replied reminding myself what she really was. It was so much easier to think when I wasn't looking at her. I wasn't going to look at her anymore. It's getting late, I should probably leave. Say it! I want to leave. I need to leave. I need to leave. I need to leave!

And as I was lost in the mantra echoing throughout my mind, she said something, probably more audible than I felt it was, but still along the lines of a whisper.

"Do you really think that of me?"

I could hear the pain. The hurt. I looked up. She was looking at me with those same beautiful eyes, but now her brow was furrowed, and her lips were pursed. She was... hurt... by me... by what I said. What? That can't be right. What does it matter what I think? It has to be one of her mind games or something, playing the victim or whatever. But as I scanned her face trying to find some disingenuity, and failing, I looked down at my feet, ashamed.

"Why does it matter?" I asked the floor.

She scooted towards me so our knees were touching. Then she placed her left palm on my cheek and turned my head to face her. She looked... so vulnerable.

And then she kissed me. She had such soft lips. My hands were still in my lap. I wanted to touch her, caress her so badly, but I wasn't sure if she wanted it. I didn't get it. This was a beautiful, famous woman, and I was just a loser nobody. What was going on?

Suddenly, she stopped. My stomach dropped. She remembered better. She was just drunk, just lonely. Right. The clock strikes midnight. How many times is it going to take for you to learn your place? She got up.

But, instead of leading me to the door, she turned around and took my hand.

"Come with me"

I followed her into her bedroom where she gently pushed me on the bed. She locked the door then turned to me, her hands still behind her on the doorknob. I propped myself up with my elbows watching her. She took a couple steps forward until she was about 10 inches from the foot of the bed. Then, she let the robe slide off of her shoulders to the ground. Oh my god she was beautiful. I almost felt giddy. She had on this lacy pair of underwear, baby pink, the same color as her very erect nipples. I realized I was salivating and forced a glob of spittle down my throat.

She got on the bed on all fours and slowly crawled until she was on top of me, her pretty face so close to mine. Her dark brown hair fell on either side of us, like our own little veil. She rose to her knees giving me another spectacular view of her naked torso while she threw her hair to one side. My eyes grew wide when she took my hands and placed them on her breasts. She smiled playfully at my reaction. She bit her lower lip as I cupped and lightly squeezed with my hands. Her teeth were so white. With my hands still on her she leaned down to kiss me tenderly, well at first. She gripped my hair to pull me closer into the kiss, started to use her tongue in her ultimate quest to devour my mouth. It felt like heaven.

That nagging voice was no more than background noise somewhere in the distance. I allowed myself to indulge in this touch that I so missed and craved for all those years. She pushed up my shirt, just until the underwire of my bra and ran her hands up and down my stomach, her cold fingers giving me goosebumps. Then she got back up on her knees and just... looked at me. My hands had somehow found their way to rest on her butt, my fingers tracing the lace pattern of her panties. She looked back at my bare abdomen and started to unbutton my jeans, wearing this devilish smile as she did it. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back.

But when she tugged at my zipper, something happened. All at once I remembered who I was with, what was happening. And something stung me, remembering what happened last time, what happened all the times. That really really bad feeling when my heart broke and I couldn't pick up the pieces. Why can't you do what other people do, just fucking detach yourself, get off then leave. It's not like you're in love with her. Right? She's just a dumb bimbo actress. Except that she's not dumb. And she's sensitive. And she's talented. And she likes you? No no, there's a catch.

I scrambled backwards to the headboard. And throughout my body pulsed a sharp sensation of... fear. I froze with my back against my headboard and my head on the wall above. I was panting. I watched as she looked at me, probably thinking about kicking me out. Then she spoke:

"Ok. That's ok. We can go slow."

"I'm sorry- I don't- I can't- I shouldn't-..." I struggled trying to start a sentence as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed to get up. Once again I was looking at my feet, feeling like a fucking fool for getting this far in. I knew better.

She placed a hand on my shoulder. "Don't leave. We don't have to do anything." She said it so softly. I wanted to just hold her, forget about the past.

I couldn't look at her as I got up. I mumbled a "See you tomorrow" before I left the bedroom and shut the door. I saw myself out and ran to my car.

I needed a fucking drink.