I am impressed. Tasha is an entertainer when she really wants your attention.
I am taking in all the details of her face, imprinting them in my memory. I am a man with a canvas in my mind, like an artist who captures the moment and puts together fragments to form a pleasant imagining. Then, when the time is right, it comes to life, and it fucking feels euphoric to be in these imaginings rather than in reality.
Tasha misinterprets my gesture and attains a boldness that upsets me. Her hands reach mine, and she grasps my fists, then she runs her fingers lazily on my knuckles.
I narrow my eyes and politely relieve myself of her possessive touch. She looks around uncomfortable that someone may have seen.
She is nervous. I have disoriented her. She needs a distraction.
I smile at her, and she exhales. "Tasha, you are as lovely as ever," I say this without emotion, but she takes it anyway because she knows I am not the first man to comment on her beauty. She is undeniably enthralling. "The deal is off, Tasha." I stand to leave, and she stares horrified. No one ever expects my next words or actions. It comes as a surprise to them. The look on Tasha's face is one that I have seen a lot of times.
I know she is smart. She must have figured it out by now. I am not a man looking for commitment. My emotions are elusive—only because I have mastered the act of tucking them away over time.
Nothing intrigues me about “Love”.
You are a good fuck, and we could have had so much fun together, but now you have ruined it.
I don't care how she'll tag me: the devil, or scum, or any of the other fucking things women label my kind.
I have no interest in listening to her prattle on about love. I'll save us both the stress of going down that pointless road.
"I-don’t—I don't understand. You can't just walk away!" She is hurrying to catch up with me. She is causing a scene. I don't like people. I don't like to be seen. I enjoy merging in my darkness. I enjoy watching the crowd drift by without having someone else observe me. Tasha made two mistakes in one night.
"Hold on, Carl. I was just joking. I mean—we can…" she trails off. Someone must have kept her from chasing after me.
A friend maybe?
Sweet. I wish I had one.
Good for you, Tasha.
I hear sobs and a curse comes my way. I can't help but wonder if she regrets taking the lime from me.
It should have been a peace offering. As much as I don't like being in the company of lovey-dovey women, I also hate it when they cry because I don't even know what the fuck I am supposed to do then. I continue on my path until I get to my car. There is so much more for me to worry about. Dealing with consoling women seems too intricate for me to waste my time. It's easy to detach from Tasha because I didn't invest my emotions. She may hate me now, but someday she will think back to this and…she may still fucking hate me.
I am about to drive off to the residence when I notice a woman standing by the road with deep brown hair and a slender figure. Her eyes flicker to the scene unfolding by the door before she directs her attention to me. When she sees that I have glimpsed her. She pretends to be in search of a taxi. Her hands fly wildly in the air. Her fingers play with her purse as she eyes the road to her left. Occasionally, she looks my way to see if I have moved from the spot.
Now, she is uncomfortable.
I could give her a ride. Take her to some nice bar, watch her get drunk and talk about her life and shit, then take her home and wait for her to call me the next day claiming that she can't stop thinking about the mysterious man she only just met.
We will have sex a week later, or if she is the type to enjoy a slow trip to the summit, we will enjoy many more weeks, and she will be mine.
Her thoughts will be influenced by mine.
Her actions will become a puzzle to her.
I have these effects on the women I have been with.
My father once termed my closeness to my mother unhealthy. Fucking awesome. I am bad for everyone, I guess.
Tasha had been different. She was the only woman who posed a challenge for me so far, and I wouldn't blame her for falling in love because we had been in this for 5 months. The girl across the streethas found a cab. The driver pulls up in front of her, and they exchange words. Soon, he speeds into the night, his wheels screeching on the smooth road.
This is my cue to step out of the car. She is lonely; I see it in her eyes. I don't wish to take advantage of such a woman.
When she looks my way again, she doesn't find me staring back at her.
Eventually, Tasha will return. I am almost sure of it. I am driving back to the residence. I'll have a hot shower, pump myself once or twice to relieve stress, and then I'll have my mind set to tame the lions in my home.