we keep in the freezer.
“Straight up?” I ask.
“Always.” He smiles. “I’ve still never met another chick who drinks straight vodka like a boss.” Cruise and I have spent many nights drinking straight vodka prior to fucking. Hell, once he just fucked me against the freezer. Those were the good times, uncomplicated sex. He would leave straight afterwards and I wouldn’t hear from him again. He’d just wait on my call, or I’d bump into him in a club and drag him home. No emotions involved. It was beautifully painless.
I shrug. “I’m not your average chick.” I say. By that I mean that I’ve been drinking straight vodka since I was fourteen, when I worked out that alcohol has this magical power to make you completely numb. More importantly it makes you forget. Vodka and I have had a difficult relationship over the years. It offers the promise of lost memories and temporary happiness, but it also offers me the possibility of becoming my mother. I’d sooner jump off the nearest bridge. Like I said; a difficult and tentative relationship.
Throughout this entire shit with Theo I’ve managed to avoid turning to my old friend, but this situation calls for it. The numbness is like a familiar comforting blanket. It ebbs away my pain, and soothes the cluster-fuck that is my mind. I find myself wondering why the fuck I didn’t just hit the bottle sooner.
I pour out two short glasses of the chilled liquid and hand one to Cruise. I down my glass and quickly pour another.
“Damn girl.” He lets out a whistle. “That bad?”
I shrug one shoulder. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks.”
Cruise and I sit on the sofa, nursing vodka. Half an hour later I’ve made it through almost half a bottle and I’m trashed. Cruise stopped after only a couple of glasses saying he has to drive. It makes me smile that he knows he won’t be allowed to stay here. Familiar. Safe.
“So, what do you do when you’re not fucking me Cruise?” I slur.
He smiles. “Wow, this is deep for you. I had to fuck you three times before you’d even tell me your name.”
I laugh. “That is true. I’m curious though.”
“I make guitars by day, and I’m in a band by night.”
“Hmm. Well you are good with your hands.” I raise an eyebrow at him. Yep, drunk slutty Lilly has come out to play, and Cruise is in her sights. “I knew you were a bad boy. Is it a rock band?” I run one finger down his chest and over the one, two three bumps of his abs. I can practically hear my vagina purring from here. Damn, down girl.
“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any better.” Oh god, my head is spinning. I’m at that point where it’s like watching yourself, but you’re not really there. Cruise puts his hands on my waist and suddenly I’m straddling him on the sofa. His face is just inches from mine, and his breath caresses my lips. I feel the familiar feeling of my body becoming numb, and not just alcohol induced numb. It’s the feeling I get from meaningless sex. I switch off and I feel nothing whilst he’s touching me. It’s just pure animal instinct. Just an act of pleasure. There’s no emotion attached to it, and I love that. I cling to it. If I’m honest, I turn to sex in the same way that I turn to alcohol, so that I don’t feel anything. It’s purely physical. I crave it, I need it. If it’s really bad, then I double them up, alcohol and sex are like drugs to me. Dangerous.
I brush my lips against his and revel in his shallow breaths. I need this right now, I need the emotional void just as much as I need the power. Everything shuts down as he kisses me. I feel nothing, and it’s a blissful relief.
My hands slide under his t-shirt, pulling it up his body and over his head. He’s built like a rugby player, big and broad. His muscles tense under my fingers and I smile against his lips. I love having an effect over men. I love to make them powerless to me. It’s not hard given that men are simple creatures, but
“Straight up?” I ask.
“Always.” He smiles. “I’ve still never met another chick who drinks straight vodka like a boss.” Cruise and I have spent many nights drinking straight vodka prior to fucking. Hell, once he just fucked me against the freezer. Those were the good times, uncomplicated sex. He would leave straight afterwards and I wouldn’t hear from him again. He’d just wait on my call, or I’d bump into him in a club and drag him home. No emotions involved. It was beautifully painless.
I shrug. “I’m not your average chick.” I say. By that I mean that I’ve been drinking straight vodka since I was fourteen, when I worked out that alcohol has this magical power to make you completely numb. More importantly it makes you forget. Vodka and I have had a difficult relationship over the years. It offers the promise of lost memories and temporary happiness, but it also offers me the possibility of becoming my mother. I’d sooner jump off the nearest bridge. Like I said; a difficult and tentative relationship.
Throughout this entire shit with Theo I’ve managed to avoid turning to my old friend, but this situation calls for it. The numbness is like a familiar comforting blanket. It ebbs away my pain, and soothes the cluster-fuck that is my mind. I find myself wondering why the fuck I didn’t just hit the bottle sooner.
I pour out two short glasses of the chilled liquid and hand one to Cruise. I down my glass and quickly pour another.
“Damn girl.” He lets out a whistle. “That bad?”
I shrug one shoulder. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks.”
Cruise and I sit on the sofa, nursing vodka. Half an hour later I’ve made it through almost half a bottle and I’m trashed. Cruise stopped after only a couple of glasses saying he has to drive. It makes me smile that he knows he won’t be allowed to stay here. Familiar. Safe.
“So, what do you do when you’re not fucking me Cruise?” I slur.
He smiles. “Wow, this is deep for you. I had to fuck you three times before you’d even tell me your name.”
I laugh. “That is true. I’m curious though.”
“I make guitars by day, and I’m in a band by night.”
“Hmm. Well you are good with your hands.” I raise an eyebrow at him. Yep, drunk slutty Lilly has come out to play, and Cruise is in her sights. “I knew you were a bad boy. Is it a rock band?” I run one finger down his chest and over the one, two three bumps of his abs. I can practically hear my vagina purring from here. Damn, down girl.
“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any better.” Oh god, my head is spinning. I’m at that point where it’s like watching yourself, but you’re not really there. Cruise puts his hands on my waist and suddenly I’m straddling him on the sofa. His face is just inches from mine, and his breath caresses my lips. I feel the familiar feeling of my body becoming numb, and not just alcohol induced numb. It’s the feeling I get from meaningless sex. I switch off and I feel nothing whilst he’s touching me. It’s just pure animal instinct. Just an act of pleasure. There’s no emotion attached to it, and I love that. I cling to it. If I’m honest, I turn to sex in the same way that I turn to alcohol, so that I don’t feel anything. It’s purely physical. I crave it, I need it. If it’s really bad, then I double them up, alcohol and sex are like drugs to me. Dangerous.
I brush my lips against his and revel in his shallow breaths. I need this right now, I need the emotional void just as much as I need the power. Everything shuts down as he kisses me. I feel nothing, and it’s a blissful relief.
My hands slide under his t-shirt, pulling it up his body and over his head. He’s built like a rugby player, big and broad. His muscles tense under my fingers and I smile against his lips. I love having an effect over men. I love to make them powerless to me. It’s not hard given that men are simple creatures, but
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