Cinderella Dreams

It’s 11:00; that means we have one hour till midnight. One hour til our Cinderella dreams are over. One hour till we must return to our separate lives, our separate worlds. Only one hour. Well, let’s make the good times last.

      We started this “relationship” a few months ago with the arrangement of it being an one time only sorta deal. Its funny how one time can become two times. Two times turns into three. To twice a month then twice a week. Before we knew it, it became every day. Now, I’m at your door searching for the key you always leave under your mat. I turn the knob and close the door. The smell of your shower gel hits my nose as soon as I walk towards your room. I cringe from guilt and disgust, but partly because I am excited to see you once again. I lie on your bed and close my eyes. Before I know it I’m asleep.

      Like a movie of my life, my mind starts to replay memories, some repressed and others as vivid as when they happen. I see the time I pushed Martha Kilmen off the monkey bars in the second grade and later the time she gave me a hand job in math class. I see Julia Starks, my best friend, who I know would be sickened if she could see me now. We both have been fooling around on and off the past two years; even though we both are in exclusive relationships. Part of me loves her, but another part loves the no strings attached even more. Finally, I see my girlfriend, Selma. Pretty, sweet, kind, caring; why do I keep doing this to her? If she ever knew she would be heartbroken and like everyone, including myself, disgusted to say the least.

      I can feel the warmth of your breathe on my neck. Your fingertips find their way up my shirt. The contact excites me, but they don’t take away from the memories that haunt me. You whisper something into my ear, but I can only here the sounds of Julia’s laughter and Selma’s crying from when I told her I was going to be late to her birthday party tonight. I look over at you digital alarm clock; it reads 11:31, less than thirty minutes till pumpkin time. I look over at you. You’re smiling, a real genuine, heart-felt smile. I wish I could truly be that happy about this, not to say I once wasn’t that happy. It’s just the lies are truly eating me up now.

   You ask me if I am ready and I just nod. You are already undressed and so you slowly begin to undress me. I am shaking. You ask if I’m cold and I shake my head no. I take a deep breath and walk over to your open door and shut it. I turn off the lights and get back into the bed. I lay back down and try to relax as you move you head down in between my legs. Your facial hair gently scratches my inner thigh and a wave of nausea comes over me. Selma’s cries our louder in my head now and Julia’s seductive laughter slowly begin to intertwine with the cries. It is like being on an acid trip. My head is spinning and nausea is completely taking over now. I am having trouble breathing; then again I’m not even sure I’m breathing anymore. Before I know it it’s over. I regain control of my senses. You smile at me and chuckle a bit. I begin to sit up and search for my shirt but the tension says you are not done. I sigh and go over to you. While part of me wants to just walk away, another part knows this is the last time I will ever see you. I know what you want and despite my own personal convictions I give in to you. With every thrust a flash of Selma crosses my mind. Your moans are replaced with seductive moans from Julia. You say that you are my sex slave and despite myself I find it to be a turn on.

     Time seems to move slowly and the world suddenly seems to stand still. I finally let it all go, the guilt, the shame, the lust. I let it all go. We finally stop; time and space continue to move. I dress in silence and make my way for the door. You ask when will you see me again and I say never. To smirk and whisper that I will be back but I believe you know the truth that I won’t. It was fun while it lasted but I can’t handle it. Maybe deceit really isn’t my thing. Or maybe it’s just that I’m not gay or bi or into guys. Maybe it’s you, but I have a feeling it’s really me. Either way, I won’t be back. I can’t.

      12:01. Goodbye Michael, goodbye to all our Cinderella dreams.