Shelby

She wasn’t quite sure what was wrong. She wanted him. Her body pulsed, she wanted him so bad, but it was too much. Somehow, it wasn’t just about the sex, anymore. It was about him. Him. It was…too overwhelming. Too much. Too much.

She needed a few minutes, so she stalled for time and asked if they could just lie together for a few minutes. She laid her head on his shoulder, pressed against him, breast to chest, felt his heart beat and listened to the music and his breathing. Trying to stop thinking that she was lying to herself.

She knew what was wrong. She didn’t want to know what was wrong. She’d prefer to blame it on hormones or the moon or something, but that wasn’t it.

Dammit!  In no way did she intend to get attached to him, this musician who, as she was reminded by her mother, probably made a terrible boyfriend. For all she knew, he thrived in a setup like this, where he didn’t have to commit to her and she didn’t have to commit to him, and they could hook up once a week and work their frustrations out. Eat some good food, drink some good wine, have some good sex. The next morning he was gone and she was gone and life moved on until the next Thursday, when it was a new restaurant and a new bar and a new lingerie set and a new position. This a great arrangement. A perfect setup.

Why could she not enjoy it? Why did she suddenly need more?

It was starting to feel like… what was that feeling? Not hollow. Definitely not hollow. It just… wasn’t enough. Shelby found herself craving him uncontrollably sometimes, needing him so badly she could cry. She held the phone in her hands sometimes for hours on end, willing herself to call him, but in the end she wouldn’t. She had no right to count on him, to make demands of him and his time. He wasn’t her boyfriend. She wasn’t his girlfriend. No commitments, remember? He was a friend, sure, when it came to movies and music and food, hanging out and having fun. He wasn’t someone she should get close to and share her secrets with.

Against her better judgment, though, she really, really wanted to. If she could find the words to say it, she’d spill every word, confess her little ass off.  Tell him, tell him all about how she used men for money, let them take care of her, let them spoil her. All she had to do was give up a little bit of sex, a blow job here and there, hang on his arm and every word at parties and events and functions. And of course, be his private toy. In exchange, he took care of her. Gave her everything she ever even thought she needed or wanted or had to have. Or just paid her rent. It was an arrangement.  

They weren’t supposed to fall in love with her.  She wasn’t supposed to love them back.

Shelby saw it coming with Lucas, thinking that deeper feelings from him would be to her advantage. Much too late, she realized there was no advantage at all to bilking this man out of money and time and affection. She wasn’t sure how far she would let things go with JC before she cut it off.  Her feelings for him—unexpected and passionate and suddenly so deep-- confused her, clouded her judgment.  She was starting to like it. Getting comfortable. And that scared her. She refused to use him like she used Lucas.

Breathing slowly and deeply, lying in his arms, Shelby felt his hand rubbing her back, being so patient with her. She let her hand roam, wandering smooth skin, tight muscles, and his tempting, pulsing, hot-to-the-touch erection.  His head turned toward her, his lips at her forehead. He kissed her, so sweet. So soft. Her heart was sighing, tears were welling up, so much pent up emotion spilling over.  Lucas and JC and the last few years and the last few months swirled around in her head. Everything was just all mixed up.

Shelby rolled to her back, pulling him with her, on top of her. He made all the usual moves, the ones that made her writhe and squeal, the ones that tickled and made her laugh and beg him to stop, and then never stop. But she didn’t feel much like playing insatiable sex kitten.

“Slow. Do it slow,” she whispered to him, her eyes wet with tears that threatened to spill over. He paused, confused probably, but slowed down, making his moves more sensual and meaningful, deep breaths and long, low moans. When he finally slid inside her, she couldn’t hold the tears back, anymore. She clung to him, held him to her, while her hips worked beneath him. She cried and moaned and grunted and almost screamed as her climax shook her, all the while her face wet with tears. JC came soon after, saying her name over and over, in her ear, against her skin. Asking if she was okay, could he help her, could he do anything for her? He was such as sweet man.

Just like Lucas. She was going to end up hurting him, just like she hurt Lucas.

Whores weren’t supposed to fall in love.

JC

They weren’t talking about it. They hadn’t talked about not talking about it, but Shelby seemed like she wasn’t eager to get into it. He didn’t want to push her. She’d probably talk about it when she was ready. Or maybe she’d just put it where she was putting all the other things she should be telling him, but wasn’t.

Shelby must have been exhausted since she slept for a few hours, but as usual she was awake when his eyes fluttered open at the sound of the alarm. She brought him a cup of coffee and they sat in silence—him in the bed, she on the edge of it—enjoying the strong brew, mentally preparing for the day. He had a full day of music ahead of him. She had classes and work and a date with some new friends she made. After she left, he wouldn’t see her again until the following Thursday. That was their routine. He was supposed to find some kind of peace in that, he supposed. He was starting to hate it, though.

Way too soon, he had to get out of bed and get in the shower. He had to meet Rod and the Band at a radio station at 9am for some other useless session of ‘look what we did’. Shelby snuck out of the house while he was in the shower. So, that was it. They never talked about it, the deeply emotional episode the night before. The need and want to be there for her. The disappointment that she would let him screw her, but not love her.

Shelby

“It’s like… it’s like the more I try, the harder it is, you know? You know what I mean?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. But maybe that should be your last shot.”

Shelby giggled and tipped her head back, letting the alcohol fill her mouth and slide down her throat.

She was just on the edge of drunk, spouting rambles that didn’t even make sense to her, let alone to the small group of women gathered around her. The music—raging pop hits from the 90s and beyond--wasn’t doing much to lift her spirits. The alcohol—top shelf tequila, her favorite—wasn’t doing much to quiet her thoughts or make her problems disappear. The company—a group of five other women from her classes at UCF—weren’t making her feel any less lonely. On the contrary, the voices seemed louder, inside her head. The elephant in the room, or in her mind, seemed larger and more ominous. The puzzle pieces all seemed to be the wrong shapes and didn’t fit together at all. She was working backward, now. Not making progress at all.

“Well, what’s going on, Shelby? What’s getting harder, the more you try? Maybe we can help.”

Shelby lifted her eyes from their fixed stare at the squiggly lines of wood grain to the multicolored pairs around the table, watching her. Anne-Marie, next to her, was a friend from her Business Economics study group, comprised mostly of young men and women in their early 20’s, eager to learn and do well, energetic and optimistic. Shelby and Anne-Marie were both in their late 20’s, had been in the real world for more than a few years and weren’t exactly jaded but weren’t as wide eyed and hopeful. They made an instant connection and often gravitated toward each other both in study group and in class. Anne-Marie had a plain-Jane, Pollyanna name but had a shock of short red hair on her head, sparkling blue eyes and tattoos up one arm and down another leg. She topped it off with three or four ear piercings and a silver stud in her nose. Shelby felt like the new kid in class, trying to make friends after being without them for so long, but Anne-Marie made the transition from friendless to girlfriend an easy one. 

The other members of the group enjoying the disco lights and endless tequila and live DJ at Antigua were various women that Anne-Marie knew. The weekly gathering, gab session, chick’s night out was an open invitation. Whoever could make it, made it. Shelby was new to the group, there to have a good time, relax, let off some steam. She wasn’t making a very good first impression.  

“I’m sorry you guys. I’m dragging the room down.” She perked, shooting a drunken, lopsided smile at Anne-Marie. “More shots! Let’s have another round, on me! I’ll get them!”

Shelby tried to stand but was blocked by Anne-Marie on her right and another girl on her left, Shelby couldn’t remember her name, but remembered that she was nice. They both pulled her back down to her seat and slid the stack of empty shot glasses away from her.

“What’s with you?” Whatever-her-name-is on the left said. “What are you trying to forget, girl?”

“A boy.” Shelby sat back in her chair, defeated. Sullen. Hopeless. “A man. He’s a man. He’s awesome, so fucking awesome. And he wants to be with me and I can’t.” Her head wagged in protest, but that was starting to hurt, so she stopped. “I can’t let that happen. It’ll be bad. So bad. So….so bad.”

“Why? What would be bad?” That sounded like Anne-Marie. Felt like Anne Marie’s hand on her arm, rubbing up and down, soothing. Shelby wasn’t too sure, but she was going to go with it.

“He’s too good. And I’m too bad. I’m evil. I wish I could tell you guys. He... he should go find a nice girl. He deserves a nice girl.”

From across the table, someone said, “You seem nice, to me.”

Shelby shook a finger in the general direction of the table. “Oh, if you only knew. You don’t know,” she said. “You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“Why do you say you’re evil?”

“I just am,” she said, to no one. “I don’t think I deserve someone like him. Not after all the things I’ve done.”

The fugue of alcohol and flashy lights and party atmosphere weren’t keeping thoughts of JC away from her. Sexy, wonderful, JC, sweet JC. That man that she’d practically stalked until he asked her out— ‘let’s be honest, we stalked each other’—thinking he was just like every other musician on the planet. Selfish and wild and sex crazed, all about rock and roll and having a good time.

Shelby recognized his face and his name and his history, at that grocery store at 4am. She had no idea who he really was, when she met him, had nothing to go on but rumors. In her mind, they would hook up a few times, wake up drunk and naked somewhere and not be able to remember how they got there, and then he would get bored and fade away. She hadn’t realized that he wouldn’t be her ticket to living life out loud, finally free and away from people who seemed to only want to tear her down. She didn’t know she’d sit with him until all hours of the night, drinking wine, talking about music and art and film and… cereal. That he would be so deep and introspective and poetic, but at the same time so very simple and precise about everything he did.

More than anything, she didn’t think the sex would end up being more than sex. She didn’t think she’d feel like a piece of her was missing, without him. She didn’t count on missing him on the non-Thursdays, not just his body but the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand and the quiet comfort from knowing he was right there. This was not at all what Shelby had bargained for. JC was trouble, big trouble.

She was going to have to do something, soon, probably; otherwise they’d both end up getting hurt.

The air had cooled considerably, almost smacking Shelby in the face as she stumbled out of the double doors of the bar, Anne Marie on one side of her, that one girl whose name she couldn’t remember on the other, both holding her up and shuffling her to the car. She wasn’t so much drunk as bone tired—from dancing and drinking and thinking. And feeling. Feeling was exhausting. She much preferred to turn her heart and mind off and just go with what her body wanted.

Her body wanted JC, though.