Alexandra, her pussy is itching

I woke up in dim light and wondered why Jasmine hadn’t pulled back the curtains. Then I realised I was in a single bed with a warm body pressed close to me. I was wide awake instantly. The memories of last night came flooding into my mind. “Shit,” I whispered. Alexandra murmured something in her sleep. I realised she was naked beside me and I began to get aroused. It was this small betrayal of my heart by my body that forced me to move. As gently as I could I slid out from under her arm and onto the floor. I stood and began searching in the dim light for my clothes. As I was getting dressed Alexandra woke. “Good morning,” she smiled at me and stretched lazily under the bed clothes. I was glad I had my jeans on so she couldn’t see the reaction she caused in me. And I got annoyed that my body betrayed my desire when I’d decided that I didn’t want her any more. I have to admit now that I still wanted her, it was just that I knew that I would be far better off with out her. “Hi,” I replied. “Did you sleep well?” “I had a gorgeous time, Kevin,” her eyes still dreamy. I pulled my T-shirt on and walked to the sink. “Do you want some coffee?” I had hoped to leave before she woke up. To run away so I’d not have to face her. Now she was awake all I could think of was performing the social niceties. “Yes please,” she yawned. She got out of bed as I filled the kettle and padded across to the wardrobe. I took out the coffee and put a couple of spoonfuls into two mugs. When I looked up she was standing beside me in her silk dressing grown. She leaned close to kiss. I lightly kissed her lips. She put her arms around me and hugged. “Hmmm,” she whispered as she rocked herself against me. “It’s nice to have somebody to make coffee for you in the morning.” “Maybe you should hire a maid,” I suggested. “What do I need a maid for when I’ve got you,” she looked up at me. I smiled and looked away. Steam was coming out of the kettle. I quickly made the coffee and, taking my mug, sat down at the table. She looked at me for a moment. Then asked, “Is there something wrong, Kevin?” I looked away, “I think last night was a mistake.” “Oh,” she whispered. “why?” “It didn’t achieve anything,” I explained. “At least now I know why I love you,” she said. “You don’t love me, Alexandra,” I put my cup down. “You don’t love me and you don’t understand me.” I shook my head, “And you never will.” She sat down opposite me and I realised that I didn’t mind her putting the table as a barrier between us. “There’s a gulf between us which I can not bridge,” I looked at her. “And which I don’t think you can bridge either.” She said nothing for a moment. “If you want to do something badly enough you’ll always find a way to do it,” she said, quoting form a film we’d seen together. I nodded, “I agree.” And looked down, “I guess I don’t want to love you badly enough. I’ve got Jasmine and she really loves me. I don’t need you any more.” I looked up at her, “Maybe I never did, I just thought that I did.” “So where does that leave me?” she was in a state of shock. “After I gave myself to you last night.” A bolt of anger rose inside me. I wanted to scream. Why is so much emphasis placed on Sex? Why is it so important to keep yourself “pure and chaste” for your future husband? But I didn’t. I suddenly realised that our whole relationship had been fucked up by her believe in the importance of her “giving herself” to someone. She hadn’t been able to admit her desire for me because she had wanted to keep her virtue intact. Yet she was able to get her desire sated because I wanted to make love to her so much. She couldn’t masturbate or give me head, because that is immoral. So my frustration built up and tore the relationship apart. Now I couldn’t trust her. Now I couldn’t love her. All because of her sacred virtue. I looked down. “Like I said before there’s a difference between commitment and sex.” I looked up at her again, “They’re not the same thing.” She gripped the edge of the table, “You just used me !” “No, Alexandra,” I kept my voice soft. “You used me. I was always honest about my feelings for you. I never told you I was going to devote my life to you if you had sex with me.” I shook my head, “You the one who said that you wouldn’t give any commitment to me.” “All you wanted was to fuck me !” she shouted. “That’s not true, Alexandra,” I kept my voice normal. “I always wanted a deeper, more committed relationship than you did.” I shrugged, “And now I’ve got it. But it’s not with you.” “So what was last night about?” she didn’t shout, but she still burned with anger. “Last night?” I smiled. “Last night was about you wanted to have sex with me. For your own reasons.” I looked down. “And for my own I wanted to have sex with you.” “And that’s all that it was to you?” she seemed deflated. Her anger had evaporated. “Just Sex?” “I didn’t feel anything deeper, Alexandra,” I said. “I tried to feel the way I felt on that first night. I tried to feel what I used to feel for you. But I couldn’t. And I don’t think I ever will.” We silent for a while. “And what about Jasmine?” Alexandra looked at me. “Will she forgive you for spending the night with me?” “No,” I smiled and shook my head. “She won’t forgive me, because I don’t think that she’ll feel the need to forgive me. And I won’t feel the need to ask for it.” “So you’ll just walk in and tell her that you’ve had sex with me?” it was a rhetorical question. “No,” I shook my head again. “She already knows that I’ve had sex with you.” Alexandra smiled her disbelieve. I smiled back. “You don’t understand.” I leant forward. “It was her idea for us to do this,” I explained. “It was her idea to get rid of all my leftover emotions I felt for you. For me to realise what my true feelings for you .” I lent back. “And for you to realise what you felt for me.” “You expect me to believe that she made you have sex with me?” she almost laughed. “I already said, Alexandra,” I pointed out, “that I wanted to have sex with you.” I started to explain. “Jasmine doesn’t own me and I don’t own her. We’re in love with each other. We decided to share our lives with each other. We’re committed to each other.” I looked straight at her. “And she is not jealous of you. She understands my desire for you.” “You desire me and you love Jasmine,” she snorted. I shrugged, “That’s about right.” She stood up and shouted at me. “Do you expect me to accept that. For you to live with and love and ‘Be committed’ to Jasmine. And for me to be your bit on the side !” “No,” I stayed seated and kept my voice low. “I expect that we’ll not see each other again.” I looked down, “And I don’t think that we can be friends.” She realised that I was saying good buy. Slowly she sat down. We sat in silence for a minute or two. I looked at her and she looked at her feet. Finally she whispered, “I want you, Kevin.” My heart broke. I knew that she meant it. And I started to cry. She came around the table and put her arms around my waist. I hugged her back and we sank onto the floor in each other’s arms. Slowly we rocked back and forward. My tears flowing into her hair, her’s onto my shoulder. Finally I managed to speak. “I’m sorry Alexandra,” I kissed her ear. “I’m sorry, Alex,” I hugged her. Hard ! Then I pushed her away and stood up. She looked down at the floor as I took my coat off the back of the chair and walked out. On my way home I had a long, long talk with myself. A talk in which I convinced myself that I’d done the right thing. That I would be happier with Jasmine than with Alex. And that Alex would be happier with out me. I started off by trying to explain why I fell in love with Alex. It was like I’d had this ideal concept of the perfect person for me. I had constructed this box inside my head. A box of the “shape” of the person I wanted. And I put the label “The love of my life” on it. Then when I met Alex I’d put her in that box and thought that she do what I expected her to do and give me what I needed. And when she had done what she wanted to do herself I hadn’t been able to accept it And maybe now, I thought. I had just swapped the contents of that box. Replaced Alex with Jasmine. But no, I said back. Jasmine has changed utterly the shape of that box. Because of what she has given me I no longer needed the things that form the “Love of my life” that I had needed then. Maybe Alex had given me all that I’d really wanted. And I realised then that she had given all that I’d allowed her to give. That she had given all that she had known how to give. It was my fault that I had not known how to show her what else she could give. As she had said herself she had needed guidance and I had not known how to guide her. I had not known how to help her sort out the mess that life had made her. I had not know how to sort out myself. And Jasmine had taken me and quite casually shown me what freedom really was. The freedom I had been unable to show Alex. The freedom she hadn’t known existed and so hadn’t known she could aspire to. The freedom that Jasmine took for granted. The freedom I had deluded myself into thinking that I had already archived. Looking back on my relationship with Alex. When I heard myself thinking this I knew that it really was over, once and for all. But looking back on it from her point of view I wonder if her interpretation of it had been right all along. Here I was losing all interest in her after one night of having sex with her. Maybe that was all I wanted all along. Maybe I really was a masochist for putting myself through all that pain and suffering. I mean the physical evidence is all in favour of her interpretation. I tried again and again to …. Well let’s say it, fuck. That’s what it really was anyway. I tried again and again to fuck her. When one angle of attack didn’t work I changed my technique. And when that didn’t work I tried another. And as soon as I succeed I lost interest in her. Had I been lying to myself when I said that I wanted to share my life with her? Did I have to justify my lust for her with “morally correct” thoughts? Was I just a slave to my emotions and not as free as I liked to think I was? Well I’ve already answered that last question. I’ve already admitted that I didn’t choose to love her. That I had no control over my feelings for her. And that given the choice I wouldn’t have picked her. I know I would have picked someone who would give the “love and support” I thought I needed. And I know that over time I would have ended up despising that person for not being able to stand up to me. I think I needed someone like Alex to help me grow into another, better person. And if I hadn’t had that relationship with Alex I’d never have been able to treat Jasmine the way I do. I would never have been able to love and understand her the way I can now. Having that relationship with Alex had thought me a lot. And I hope that she learnt something as well. And in my darkest, and brightest, moments I hope that I have given her the best, and worst, revenge possible. The gift of understanding. I hope she understands exquisite detail the pain and confusion I felt. I hope that she has trouble sleeping at night. And I realise that if I have help her gain the understanding to loose sleep over what she did to me, then she also has the understanding to come to terms with it and use it to grow and develop into a better, stronger person. I hope that is my lasting gift to her. Because that is what she gave to me. To understand what my faults and weaknesses are and to do something about correcting them. The bus pulled up to my stop and I got off and stood looking down the road at Jasmine’s house. My heart pounded and my palms sweaty. I had to face Jasmine now. I had to convince her that my love for Alex was dead and that I really truly loved her. That I wanted to share the rest of my life with her. It came to me there and then that I wanted her to be the mother of my children. A thought that had never struck me before. But that seamed so inescapable once I’d thought it. I wanted more than anything to run up to the house, tare inside, grab Jasmine and hug her ever so tightly. I wanted to explain to her how I felt. I wanted to make her believe that I really loved her. That I really believed she loved me. That we could make it together. That we really could be happy. No shadows hanging over us. No doubts. No confusions. A moment of unnerving clarity that stretched into minutes as I just stood there looking at the house bathed in early morning sunlight. I’d just spent the night with a woman I’d spent the best part of three years dreaming about. A woman I’d loved so desperately I’d been unable to control myself. A woman who’s very presence in the same room as me could give me a hard on. A woman I’d talked about so very often. Too often. A woman who’d hung over Jasmine like an avenging angel. And I was to arrive now and tell her that it was all over between me and Alex. That I’d suddenly opened my eyes and realised what I was doing. That I been unable to let go of the bad thing and reach for the good. That Jasmine was the best thing that’d ever happened to me. That my relationship with Alex had been self-destructive from the start. That like a veil lifting from my eyes I’d suddenly realised that what I really wanted was what I all ready had. It all sounded like a bad soap opera. Or to be more exact like a good soap opera. “At least I still have my sense of humour,” I smiled to myself. Then quickly looked around when I realised I’d spoken out loud. I started to walk towards the house. Each step had to be forced out of me. And I daren’t stop for fear that I’d be unable to resume. I walked up the garden path like a condemned man approaching his death. Then something snapped inside and I realised I was being way over dramatic. Jasmine loves me. This was all her idea. Of course she’ll believe that it’s worked. That I’ve come back with my love for her renewed and strengthened. But still my heart was pounding as I opened the door and entered the hall. Her coat was hanging there so she hadn’t gone out shopping yet. Then I heard the radio playing in the kitchen. My knees trembled as I walked down and slowly opened the door. She was standing at the sink filling the kettle. We looked at each other for a moment. I tried to speak but my mouth was too dry. I swallowed and started to walk towards her. She dropped the kettle into the sink and stepped towards me. I knelt down on the floor in front of her, hugged her knees to me and asked, “Will you marry me.” I looked up at her, while still hugging her close. “I’ll even get a job. I’ll become a responsible member of society. I’ll conform as much as I can.” She ran her fingers through my hair, pushed her knees either side of me and sank down into my lap. “No,” she kissed me and smiled, her hands still running through my hair. “I don’t want that. All I want is for you to become a best selling, internationally famous writer. O.K.?” And we kissed passionately.