I would wear a jet black wig like a messy bob. One were I can pull the hair over to partially cover my face. I would wear oversized black sunglasses with dark red lip stick and maybe some temporary acrylic nails. I sit on top of the kitchen work top with my knees up at my chest and feet crossed as I wait for you. I sit with a nice cocktail glass filled with a clear liquid. Its water! It looks classy and I'll need water during our steamy session. When you stand naked in front of me I try and raise my legs up in the air and put them over your shoulders. You help position my legs and centre yourself. Your hands on my thighs. I would place my hands behind me so I'm sitting upright and looking straight into your eyes. This will take effort to remain upright but I want to be close to you. I try and cross my feet behind your neck. Gently pulling you in and squeezing your body with my legs. You can feel the material of the stockings rub against your skin. I look over your enormous body, your. Dylan could not get that chance anymore.He couldn't let anyone know what he was thinking, what he was feeling.He couldn't get the chance to scream at me how much I disappointed him, how I turned our friendship down.And I couldn't get the chance to scream at him how my love for him was a fucking poison, how I wasn't able to express myself since the truth would have not changed anything.Too many bad thoughts, too much negativity.I could feel how my mind was a suffocating cage: the sense of no way out assaulted me, like two hands around my neck.My body stood up, like in an autopilot mode and rushed to the bathroom.Then, noises of vomit, coming out of my throat.Probably, that was my conscience choking me with the truth.Or, that was my soul, refusing to cohabitate inside me.Well, I wouldn't have blamed them, in that case.As much as it was a deep and transcendental interior debate, I had to flush everything out for the stink.The phone called me back to reality, literally: it was Colin, I.
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