He wiggled his key in the door and unveiled the cesspool of germs and
grime that he called home. It was a closet posing as a bachelor
apartment. There were half-naked posters of girls on the walls and
overflowing makeshift ashtrays on any bare surface.
“I love what you’ve done with the place,” I said as he lit a
cigarette. He pulled me into a kiss and blew smoke into my mouth.
I cringed and pushed him away. He smirked and let the cigarette fall
into one of his aluminum foil ashtrays to burn out. He pulled me
close again. Maybe if he had shown some sign of hesitation I would
have been more inclined to back away. There was something about
powerful gestures that I found irresistible. He fumbled with a pile
of junk on his desk as he kissed me but I just laughed through it.
I don’t know why I was so stupid.
“What about your girlfriend?” I challenged barely breaking the
kiss.
“She does this sort of thing all the time.”
“She cheats on you!”
“We don’t call this cheating.”
I laughed without seeing the red flag in any of it.
I touched his bare mattress where the
filthy sheet had fallen away. I didn’t know which was worse.
Nothing was worse than what I realized he had been fumbling with
behind me.
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