There's A Reason... That Shit Didn't Work Out

TWELVE

It had been two weeks and Joie had spoken to Sam for hours on the phone every day. Sometimes even multiple times a day. The getting-to-know-you-again phase was going very well. She had asked him about "the other girl" several times wanting to know what was happening, but each time he simply told her not to worry about it. The last time she asked, he became angry and shouted at her making her afraid to ask again.

One thing she noticed was that no matter what type of discussion they were having, it always became filled with haughty sexual innuendos. That was something she had become used to over the years from most the men she dated. Sam took it to another level though, often times making her cringe inside while laughing to appease him on the outside. She didn't want him upset with her.

"What are you eating?" he asked.

"Pudding."

"You must like the feel of come in your mouth. I like that in a girl." He laughed as though it were hilarious, but she stayed quiet feeling gross inside.

"Why aren't you amused? That was funny."

"Not really." The thought of having a guy ejaculate in her mouth woke up a very specific demon from her past.

"Well, aren't you in a contrary mood. I thought that's what wives were for, not girlfriends."

At first she didn't appreciate his assumption that she was somehow acting unfavorably because she didn't like it, but quickly her brain became excited. "So, I'm your girlfriend, huh?" The thought of being his one and only erased any offense immediately.

"I don't know, I want a girlfriend that gives me lots of blow jobs and you haven't given me any."

"That's not true! I have, several times." The offense returned.

"You've suck my dick, but never given me a real blow job. You've never done it correctly."

Her eyes flew open. Correctly? What is he talking about?

"For it to be a real blow job, that would be all you focused on, start to finish. And you'd let me finish in your mouth. Have you done that for me?"

Had she spent her whole life not knowing what a correct blow job was? "No, I suppose I haven't." Her voice trailed off, her knees pulled together as she sat. Looking down at her her feet, she turned her toes in.

"Don't worry. I'll teach you."

She sighed. "When will I see you again?" Sadness came over her soul.

"I don't know. When do you want to see me again?"

"Right now," she said quietly.

But was that true? She wasn't feeling very enamored with him in that moment. She wasn't even sure she liked him.

"Oh baby, I wish I could see you right now, too. I really do. You're so beautiful and kind. You make me feel alive and so excited. Oh, what I'd do to you right now if I could."

She smiled even in her sadness. I make him feel good. I make him excited and he thinks I'm beautiful. He cares about me.

"Okay, sexy. I need to go. I'll talk to you soon."

"Okay, bye." She longed for something more from him. Something ... nice?

"Later." He hung up immediately leaving her with a very uncomfortable feeling of complete loneliness.

Slowly she rose from her couch and looked around her living room feeling the emptiness of it. She swallowed hard as tears filled her eyes. The mirror on the wall made her catch her reflection as tears dripped down her cheek. She stepped up to it, taking a closer look at herself. She looked grief stricken and ugly to herself.

If he really cares about me, why do I feel so awful about myself after we talk? Why do I feel abandoned right now?