“I’m scared,” is all Krazy Girl said.
“Scared of what?” I asked, as softly as I knew how.
“I’m scared of making another mistake. Scared of getting hurt again. Scared of you,” she said, plaintively.
“We’re all scared of getting hurt and making a mistake, but why are you scared of me?” I had to know.
“Because you seem so perfect and the last time I felt that way it ended in disaster.”
“Whoever that guy is you’re referring to, well, I’m not him.”
“I know, but I’m still scared.”
“Tell me about him. I assume it’s your ex-husband?”
“Yes, it was my husband. He’s tall, dark and handsome, just like you. It was a whirlwind, fairytale romance. He totally swept me off my feet and I thought that he was ‘The One’.”
I said nothing, having latched onto the fact that she was talking about him in the present tense. I realized then that she wasn’t over her ex-husband. Krazy Girl continued with her story.
“After a year of going out he proposed and a few months later we were married. Did you notice the church next to the pub where we first met? That’s where we got married. The pub was where we had our wedding reception.”
I was starting to cringe inside because unwittingly I had been walking in someone else’s footsteps, someone who had hurt her, someone bad. It must have been so bizarre for her to see me in that setting doused in memories and emotions for her. I said nothing, choosing to let her do the talking, having decided to only speak when I felt the need for some clarification.
“Our first year together was wonderful. We lived here in this flat, saving our money and deciding where we wanted to buy a house. We had set our hearts on the town where you live. But after that first year is when things started to go wrong. He is a senior executive in a world-famous company, earns lots of money, but he gets loads of freebies and away days from clients. He would go away for a day or two in the beginning, but by our second year he would disappear for a week at a time and I would never hear from him. If I phoned all I got was his voicemail and his secretary was brilliant at covering for him.”
“Oh dear” is all I could say, taking in the severity of what that must have felt like for her, but appreciating our moment of honesty. The significance of her having once longed to live in my town was not lost on me. Had she contacted me because I reminded her of her ex-husband and because of where I lived? Deep down did it seem to her like I was an opportunity to resurrect a shattered dream? There was more.
“Toward the end he had disappeared for a week and I finally found him in a hotel room in London, passed out in a bed with his best friend and two women. They were all naked. There was used condoms, cocaine and empty champagne bottles everywhere.”
“What did you do?”
“I just took photographs and walked out. I didn’t wake him. I went to my parents who convinced me to get a divorce. My father found a lawyer. A few weeks later I attempted suicide, but I failed at that too,” she said in an emotionless tone, her mind obviously convulsing in those memories.
Suddenly the bed felt very small to me. I thought about what was the best thing to say and came up with, “I’m sorry to hear that all that happened to you. If I ever see him, I’ll beat him up for you.” Lame, huh?
I was in a mild state of shock. The little I knew of her, of her gentle, innocent nature, I surmised that it must have been a massively disappointing trauma for her. Her trying to commit suicide didn’t sit well with me.
After taking a deep breath I said to her, “I can promise you here and now that I’ll never deliberately hurt you physically or emotionally.”
She liked the sound of that, making an approving sound while burying her face into my chest and a hand pulling tight against my ribcage. I looked to my left and made eye contact with the cat perched in the drawer, staring at us. What was she making of all this, I wondered.
Suddenly Krazy Girl pulled the duvet off us and started tugging at my underwear, expertly pulling them off. I didn’t say a word, a little surprised by this given the nature of the conversation we’d just had. I certainly wasn’t feeling frisky.
She quickly parted my legs, kneeled between them, leaned forward, putting a hand on the bed next to my hip and started kissing around my groin area. All I could think of in that moment was that I hadn’t showered since the previous night, but I was learning that she wasn’t afraid of dirty things. Did they hold some kind of compelling magnetism that she was drawn to?
Krazy Girl closed her eyes and started slowly, gently licking my flaccid cock and balls. The tenderness of her licks was such that it seemed loving. The tip of her little tongue would give a slow lick along the shaft of my growing cock, repeatedly, as if doing so was forcing it to grow. It was done in such a manner that it made me think of her cat licking an ice-cream on a hot Summer’s day. (In case you’re wondering, I keep myself clean-shaven down there. I feel more and know that it looks, smells and tastes better for a woman. Men: take note.)
It didn’t take long before my cock was rock hard, but my inner dialogue was still focussed on the revelations about her marriage. I wasn’t expecting any kind of sexual action that night. In fact I was prepared for an argument, drama, histrionics and my leaving sometime before midnight, probably never to see her again.
It was only when she took the head of my cock in her mouth, held it in place and then ran the tip of her tongue around the head while keeping her eyes closed that I focussed completely on what she was doing to me, for me.
Krazy Girl started moving her head up and down on my cock, slowly and deliberately, taking in more of the shaft with every movement, then moved her head from side to side to vary the sensation before increasing the speed at which she did this. All the time she kept her eyes closed and had a hint of a smile on her face; she looked incredibly sexy.
After a few minutes of this my butt-cheeks stiffened and my balls ached a little as the sperm sped out of my cock into her mouth. The previous weekend didn’t include oral orgasm for me, so was she now going to spit, hold or swallow my load of man juice?
The last drop went into her mouth, she pulled her head back, keeping her mouth closed as my cock slipped out of it. Krazy Girl opened her eyes and they were smiling at me. She made a show of swallowing what was in her mouth, raising her chin so that I could see her tiny Adam’s apple move as she swallowed. Then she dropped her head and opened her mouth to show me that it was all gone.
“Sorry, but that’s all you’re getting tonight. My period started today,” she said, speaking for the first time in what seemed liked hours.
“That’s not what I came her for,” I said, honestly.
Krazy Girl switched off the lamp on her side of the bed, snuggled up next to me for warmth or intimacy – I wasn’t sure which – and started to fall asleep. Through a gap in the threadbare curtains I could see flakes of snow drifting down on the world. Once again the weather was keeping in step with my romantic fortunes.
It was now well after midnight and I lay there for I don’t know how long, thinking about everything she had told me.
I had certainly got more than I had expected…