The taste of her (Part I)

Obsession was a scary word, but still wasn't near enough to describe what he felt for her. The need, the thirst, the hunger. It consumed him slowly but painfully, it was making him lose his sanity to the point of having to physically restrain himself to act upon his desires. It could have been easier to get away from her as far as possible than living that way, but it only made things worse the next time he saw or knew of her.

He wondered if there was something wrong with him, he asked even, and no one was able to understand and much less to provide an answer or advice. Everybody thought that he just liked her a lot, but he meant it literally, he wanted to make her his, to eat her, to consume her. Luckily enough, he hasn't reached the point of planning how to do it or fantasizing about it, he just felt that strong desire, and feared losing the little control of it he still had because he wasn't sure he wouldn't do it.

At first, things were manageable as she was straightforward on not wanting to be friends with him -or any boy, to be fair- due to bad experiences in the past, but would be cordial because they had friends in common. Conversations that only involved the two of them were rare, but as time passed, they had no choice but to talk until the others came or finished with their own stuff. It was less weird and uncomfortable than being in silence. She, more probably than not, didn't think too much of it, but the more he learned about her by her own mouth, the more that unknown sensation inside him grew, but as it was said, it was manageable, mostly because he couldn't identify what it was.

And when he did, everything went south.

She wasn't supposed to be there, but there she was anyway, because of her habit of saying lies as if they were truths and going against her own words if it was comvinient. He had noticed it long ago, it didn't seem to be something out of malice and cunning, but instead of indecision and a strong desire to keep hidden her real opinions if they could be used against her. In fact, that was what initiated it all, because he doesn't like to have unanswered questions, but she was so perfect at building her castle of lies that he couldn't find a single entrance to break it down from inside. All he could do then was admire her for beating him cleaningly without even knowing, but as we know, that turned into something more profound.

After the third bar of the night, the group split and went their own ways but were supposed to be checking on each other and leave together, which clearly didn't happen. Couple of drinks later, he found her in a hallway near the stairs, sitting on the ground with her head against the wall, she looked at him as soon as he approached.

—I know you would prefer to be with anybody else, but until anybody else reads the groupchat and come to your rescue, you'll have to suck it up.

—Might try tho.

He wasn't used to be the receiving end of her flirty answers, she did to men to get something from them or to piss them off, and he was in the middle ground that she barely cared about at all. Not knowing how to answer and trying hard to push the thought to the back of his mind, she laughed.

—So it seems that's kind of appealing to you, who would have thought, but I guess you're a man after all, isn't it? Tell me, would you like it if I did it? Would you want me to? 

The alcohol in him started to fuel the fire she was igniting with her words and those eyes. Behind her usual indifference, he knew something hid and guessed it was her superiority complex that was reassured with how easily she could fool everyone else and how excellent she was in everything, but right now it was also another thing, and he ached to know what it was.

—Not gonna respond to a drunk person blabbing.

—Funny, the only one drunk here is you, I had juice the whole night, so I assume it's a yes. A big, hard, and pleasant yes.

And she was right.

He had forgot for a moment that for the time being she couldn't drink as she just recovered from the flu, which was her excuse to not come as she would be too tempted, but surprisingly didn't fall into it no matter how much the rest insisted she wouldn't relapse, and he found himself drinking the double usual amount, as if to compensate for her forced abstinence while trying to drown his thoughts and desire. She was sound and sober, she didn't need his or anyone's help, but he still came after her like a fool, and put himself in the open for her to judge and mock.

And there was nothing he could do about it, because he was enjoying it more than he should, because he liked to have her whole attention only for himself, even if it meant to be ridiculed.

The warmth was starting to be unbearable, his skin ached to touch and be touched, his knees were barely keeping him standing, his mind was struggling to stay conscious, all he wanted was to give in and was about to until she laughed again.

—You know, I like to flirt and tease, but it's not funny if you're just going to stand there awkwardly. This is boring, tell the others I'm leaving.

It changed it all, because now he wanted more, he wanted her to give in, he wanted everything and beyond, because making her his wouldn't be enough.

She stood up and fixed her clothes quickly before walking away and in a heartbeat she left the place. He doubted about following her or not, he had lost all of his dignity already, but maybe that's what she wanted, or maybe not, he couldn't decide, but neither to let go like this such a chance because she would never recognize this ever happened. So in an impulse he went to find her... and it was too late, he saw her at the distance leaving in a private taxi.

Ever since he had remembered that night every time he sees her, he thinks about her, or just because. He's been waiting for another chance, but it never comes. Anxiety is consuming him, paranoia too, often doubting if it was real by the way she excellence in ignoring his whole existence. It wouldn't be the first neither the last moment he had imagined with her.

Lately, those fake scenes have turned more detailed, graphic, raw, even explicit, to the point he now confuses them with reality. At first those helped to ease him when he was near her or away from her, not noticing that they were turning him into an addict and desiring to make them true, to have her all for him. 

The last of his morals and sanity are like a lifeline whose threads break one by one, and he knows, and fears, that he won't be able to contain himself, yes, but more that even if he succeeds he won't be satisfied and for the rest of his life he will have to live this way, desiring, yearning, and dreaming of consuming her.