Twisted Lover

He’s hot.

And I don’t just mean, his butt or his eyes and smile.

I mean, everything about him is…

Hot.

I met him at one of those singles swinger parties put on by an online dating site… and the moment we met, it seemed as though nothing else and nobody else mattered.

We talked about everything and anything that night – nothing was out of bounds.  Exactly why I opened up, I’m not sure, but I felt so comfortable around him. 

And when he left my side, I felt so lost.

So, seeing I lived in nearby West End, asked if he could accompany me home; as it wasn’t right for a lady to be out so late on her own.

What a gentleman.

But then I started seeing him everywhere.  After work. When I was sitting in my living room and looking out the window.

In my sleep I dreamed of him, taking me.  Loving me.  Making me his forever.

I’d wake up sweating, hot and feeling as though he had been right there in my bed… when really I had been alone all night – or had I?

I wasn’t sure anymore.

And I found I could barely function as a human being anymore.

I almost lost my job when I screwed up in front of my bosses.  I even showed up to work on a Sunday by accident once… how did that happen?

This guy was really beginning to take my life on a terrible turn… twisting it in a way I wasn’t prepared for – especially now.  I really wasn’t looking for a boyfriend.  But I think he wanted more…

And it wasn’t until I showed up at the next singles swingers’ party that he had followed me. 

He looked betrayed. 

Angry.

He was by my side in a minute: “What are you doing here.” He grabbed my arm.

“I was hoping to have a good time.” Tried to get away from him, but his grip tightened, “Ow, you’re hurting me.”

“I don’t like it that you’re here.”

“We’re not an item.  We haven’t been on a solid date for weeks.  So, you don’t own me.”

He let me go, “Sorry.  Please forgive me.”

“I guess.”

“Do you want to get a drink?  I promise I won’t hurt you.”

I nodded, allowing him to stay near me all night.

I let him walk me home just like he did on the first night the met.  As we sat in my living room, he looked around at my small townhouse, admiring the collections of things I had.  He didn’t say anything; it was as though he had been here before, as he stood and walked confidently around the room, looking at things.

“You like my place?” I asked bringing in a tray with coffee and Tim Tams on a plate and placing them on the coffee table.  Pouring the coffee from the plunger, I picked up a dark chocolate Tim Tam and bit into it.

“Your house is … interesting.” He said.

He hated it.  That’s what ‘interesting’ used in that context meant.  I didn’t care, he didn’t have to live here, “Okay.”

Turning he looked at me, “What?”

“You love me, but hate my house.” I shook my head, “You hate it when I go out without you, but love it when I submit to being only around you.  I nearly lose my job, my mind and you seem to be everywhere and nowhere for the last month… and then suddenly, you claim that we’re something when we’re not.”

“I thought you liked me.”

“Like I said, it’s been a month and you haven’t been around.”

“And you’re being a bitch.”

“Get out.”

He walked passed me to the door.  I followed him to make sure he left.  As he stood in the doorway, he held my gaze as he leaned in close, and I moved away slightly, “You’re mine.” His whisper barely reached my ears, then he turned and left, the late night engulfing him, taking him from my house – all of him but his aftershave, which lingered in the place for hours.

Damn him.

Valentine’s Day arrived and I didn’t want to get out of bed.

I hate this day. 

I actually don’t really notice it in any way… just more shit for couples who love to rub it in that single people are just sad and alone.

I opened my door and there was a bunch of roses at my door.  I knelt down and read the card, “A Secret Admirer… great.” I took the flowers inside and put them into a vase of water before going to work.

Arriving home, I knew he had been there.

Heart-shaped balloons were tied to the seats on my front patio.  Yuk… when will he get the message?

I opened the door to find him standing there in the middle of a heart near my stairs made of pink rose petals.  He was wearing red… something he looks wonderful in.

“I seem to be asking for forgiveness all the time.” He said, “But we’ve known each other longer than that dating service.”

“Yes.” I closed the door and put my bag down, “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been an asshole.” He said, “I took you for granted, when I shouldn’t have.  It’s been so long since I’ve loved somebody like you that I’ve forgotten how long it takes to get to know your kind.”

“You know I’ve been hurt… why are you ignoring my problems?”

“I’m not.  I just don’t know how to deal with a person who has them.” A blush rose in his cheeks, “I haven’t had all that many problems for a very long time.”

“I see.”

“Bethany, can you please forgive me?”

“So long you stop treating me like I’m a whore… and running out on me.” I said, “And please, let me in to who you really are.  We’ve yet to go out to dinner.”

“That won’t be possible, for me at least.” He looked down almost ashamed.

“Why?”

“I have a huge secret and I don’t wish to scare you.”

“Tell me.”

He looked straight into my eyes, ‘I have been in your house before, Bethany… and … I don’t hate it… we have slept together, been together, but you thought it was a dream.’

“What?”

“Yes.” He nodded, “I don’t need your invite here because we’re kindred souls… so, we know each other quite well.”

“You’ve had me?”

He walked to me as I moved back and ran into the door.  Softly, gently, he caressed my hair, touched my skin with the back of his fingers, “You are my Queen, Bethany.  I want nobody else in my life… my long life.”

“Long life?” my heart raced.

“Yes, you see I’m not your average human being.” He smiled, “I’m not human.”

Tears blurred my vision as a realisation washed over me, “Oh, crap… you’re a…”

He leaned down –

took my lips and –

held me close –

made me one with him…

and, I loved it.