in

Dating : In Bed with Suzie

h2>Dating : In Bed with Suzie

J. J. Mann

That morning he was single. Now here she was, her bare body against his, back in his life. He shuffled up against the bed head and she lay her flushed cheek on his chest. He stroked her hair and looked about the bedroom. Around the mattress, clothes sprawled. There were his denim jeans, her floral sundress, his Bonds underpants, her laced bra. A fiddle leaf which had turned brown. On the other side, there was a guitar against the IKEA drawers, a pile of architecture magazines scattered on the Berber carpet, a mug with cold remnants of coffee — from when he didn’t know.

Things changed so fast, he thought.

“James?” she said.

“Yeah?”

She looked up to him. “Did you miss me?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. At this she smiled and rested her head back down on him. She glided her finger over where his heart was. Her fingers moved in an infinity-sign pattern and the hairs on his arms stood on end. When she touched him like this he didn’t mind just lying there, in his bed, in his body. She got him in touch with his body. He closed his eyes, contemplating this, and inhaled deeply.

“James?” she said.

“Suzie?”

“Nothing.”

She inched up closer, nestling under his arms.

Through the large west-facing window, the sun cast a warm light onto the walls and partly onto her.

Half of her was in the light and half of her was in the dark. But that was because he had the wavefold curtains half drawn. If he opened them more, she would be fully in the light.

He followed this shadow-line up her body and contemplated her legs and bum. He saw new folds of skin. Also, a mole on her face, right above her jaw. In the light the hairs were prominent, short but thick, like a man’s. He’d forgotten she had that and other details, too, her musky scent, her voice. Everything came back now. All the details he’d buried when she was gone were now illuminated by floodlights.

He pushed her off him and put on his boxers.

“Where you going?” she said.

“Getting some water. Want some?”

“Yes please.”

He left and, when he returned, she had dressed and sat cross-legged on the bed, partly made. He stood at the door holding the two glasses of water.

“James?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to tell you something.” She patted the mattress.

“Okay?” He sat and put the glasses on the side table.

“If we’re going to try this again, I want to tell you something.”

He shuffled against the bedhead. “You’re making me nervous now.”

With her finger she did that infinity-loop pattern again but on the bed

“What, Suzie?” he pressed.

Her head was still down and she still moved her fingers.

“What is it?”

“I slept with Ben,” she said.

Ben was his brother’s best friend, a footballer. Ben was a big guy and he was awful with women, always claiming his conquests. Suzie was just another conquest. Precious Suzie. His girl.

“He’s my brother’s best mate.”

“I know, I know. That’s why I’m telling you. I didn’t plan it. It just happened.”

“But he’s my brother’s best friend.”

“I know. It was dumb.”

He stared in the direction of the window but not at anything in particular.

“James,” she said and placed her hand on his knee.

“So it was just once?”

Now she, too, was quiet, weighing up the words.

“Suzie?” He said and swiped her hand off his knee and shuffled further back. “Tell me.”

She sighed. “More than once.”

“Geeze, Suzie.”

“I was lonely, okay? You have to know that. I missed you so much.”

He thought about that, trying to understand how he, the one she missed, had somehow driven her to sleep with the last person he wanted her to be with. “How long did this go on for?” he said.

“Can we stop?”

“How long?”

“James.”

He looked at her sternly.

“Fine!” she said, throwing her arms up. “A month.”

“A month! You just said it was a mistake.”

“It was! I wasn’t enjoying it. I don’t know. It was just — there.”

Stop, stop, stop. He thought. That’s the worst thing you can say to a man. The worst. “I don’t want to hear this,” he said and got up and paced back and forth in the room.

“James, I love you. YOU!”

He kicked a magazine into the wall, tearing the brittle pages.

“What about you?” she said. “You’ve probably been no saint either?”

He stopped pacing. Gosh his room was a mess, he thought. Even his Converses which he kicked off last night was still next to the chiffonier. “Well I haven’t slept with your sister’s best mate,” he said.

She bowed her head and wrapped her arms around her shins. He paced back and forth and he kicked another magazine. “Fuck,” he said.

Suzie buried her head between her knees and under her breath said: “This is torture.” She was crying now. She sobbed hysterically. She said, “So is this the end?”

He stopped pacing. He sat back down on the bed and looked down, felt the cotton fabric. Why could things not just be simple? he thought.

Dusk had settled and there was no light or shadow. He shook a bit. Maybe from the chill. Or maybe for another reason.

“Here,” he said and embraced her. She curled up in his arms and he leant his cheek on her forehead. “Why,” he said. “Why did you do that?”

Read also  Dating : never tomorrow

What do you think?

22 Points
Upvote Downvote

Laisser un commentaire

Votre adresse e-mail ne sera pas publiée. Les champs obligatoires sont indiqués avec *

Dating : Siesta Key :: Season 3 Episode 13 (Full Episodes) | MTV

Dating : Weekends Erotica — A Daily Dose of Sexual Fantasies During A Chilly Weekend — Write For Us!