Short Term
The soft kiss on the cheek turns into a kiss on the neck. Easier to resist if he wasn't so good at it, so soft and warm. So blonde and lithe. His hand on my throat, dangerous. Kissing me, trying to talk his way into my apartment. "I just want to give you kisses. More kisses. Inside we can be warm and comfortable." He's close to me on that front step. He kisses me again and tightens his hold on my throat. "I'm going to get inside. I'm going to get inside and rip your clothes off, not gently, and I'm going fuck you. And you're going to love it." I shouldn't want this. I shouldn't be as turned on as I am. I should turn him away. I should run inside. I should give him my number and tell him to call and not be disappointed when he doesn't call.

He's so soft and warm. His mouth on mine. He's left me no place to go on that front step. If he wasn't such a good kisser, it would be easier to resist.

As it is I keep him on the front step two hours before I decide I'm not going to able to sleep anyway.

No sleep, like I've triumphed over the night, like I own the world. Like when I used to pull all nighters in college. A hot piece of ass that I won. Five o clock in the morning. "I want to fuck you again," he says. That lilting accent. That smile. A day of well being.

How long will it last? How long can happiness last when I owe to some ill advised but really satisfying sexual encounter?

The stop watch has already started counting down the moments to when I'll wish I'll be dead. The next anxiety attack. The next attack of blinding low self-esteem. The next crying fit. It's hours away not days. In this moment, though, I think it will never come. This has cured me, but it doesn't stop the arms of the clock ticking away those moments. And of course the moment comes sooner than I think.

I'll see him and feel that giddiness, until it's clear he doesn't "see" me. I don't register. And that great piece of ass that I won, that triumph, goes the way of all them. Another defeat. Another mistake. Another man I can't have enough though all I want is another night of pleasure. So of course now I see him everywhere, while I am nowhere. Invisible.

So why can't I forget that hand on my throat?

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