The Fire of Blade (Part One)

The Fire of Blade (Part One)

A Story by Myrna
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A troubled young woman tries to help brokenhearted men in her own way.

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I slip on a strapless plum cocktail dress that hugs each and every one of my curves. I search my shoe collections for the six inch gold stilettos with the rhinestones, my eyes sparkled with golden glitter, and my lips painted shimmering pink. Blush on my high set cheek bones, but no jacket, it was a warm summer’s night in the city. I had taken a flat iron to my hair so that it cascaded down my back.

I’m in a certain business where I help and understand men, in some ways women don’t want to. When it comes to break ups women like to play the victim and refuse to see that a man feels pain too. His pride is hurt, his heart hurts, for when he sees his woman walk out that door, she takes a piece of him with her. 

We women are not the only ones who feel agony, but we sure are the ones who show it in the most dramatic ways possible. I’m talking mascara tears, empty box of chocolates, and a sea of tissues. Women like trash talking their ex on the phone with their best girl while planning which best friend she’s going to sleep with for revenge. 

You see us women are complicated creatures and we blame men for not understanding the impossible riddles that run through our minds and we speak in our actions. Men on the other hand are simple creatures. When they’re feeling down, get naked with an ice cold beer in your hand. Men usually tell you straight up who pissed them off and why. Women, though, want the man to figure out the problem, then come up with a solution. 

We want them to buy us flowers and chocolates, and write us a number one hit song. What do men want? A cold beer, a warm place for their a*s to sit and a football game that will go undisturbed when watched, and no judgment passed when they shout at the screen. They want a grill to cook meat over while talking cars to their buddies, a pool to have sex in at night when the neighbors are sleeping. Every man is built different with unique thoughts and desires, but at heart they’re all the same. 

Made simple, courageous, while us girls are made complex, delicate. In the dating world women only have to sit at the bar with their b***s perky, and faces desperate and needy for love and affections, even if that is for one night. While men must find the gonads to approach the complicated creature and hope to score at least a number. They come to us, which is why makeup and push up bras exist. 

So when a man is spotted at the bar with a hunched back, shadowed eyes, that’s when I know I have found a broken man. Nine times out of ten he looks this way because he has just been dumped. The other one was due to his mother telling him to move out since he is thirty two. I will admit men have a quicker rebound time than women do. Women like to lust and pine over what could have been, while men get angry about the time and effort put into the damned relationship. Nonetheless, men will move on and hope to find a grade A woman that won’t remind him of his ex. 

What is my point? Well, I try to find the men who are especially broken after a several year breakup, or a called off engagement. These men tend to take up more rebound time, for that woman was the only one they wanted, or they had just thought they were figuring her out, and BAM! She ended it, just like that, so now he’s faced with feeling like a failure. Men tend to feel a certain hopelessness that scares them into a dark state of mind that loneliness is the only solution.  

So, I come in like a super hero in a cocktail dress, listen to their story, give them advice and sleep with them. I know, it sounds bad, and extremely unnecessary, but in reality it is tremendously helpful. After years of the same woman, men feel that they may be out of the game. They just learned how to please this woman in the bedroom, how in the hell will they learn someone else, why bother? I give them the sense of security that they are capable of pleasing a strange woman between the sheets. This is an average night of Casstella Higgins: 

I am a regular at the club with the name of White Walls. The bouncer Mack lets me in at the head of the line and I come sweeping in catching the eye of all the confident bachelors and even some who aren’t so available. Which reminds me, ladies we must let our men look as long as they do not touch. Men do not like to be on a leash, and they will tug on it until their collars break, and they’ll chase cars all night. 

Anyway, I then scan he long glass bar that is lit up with neon lights. I can usually spot them right away, hunched on their lava lamp bar stools, face buried in their drink. I then approach said man, catching the eye of the bartender, who will recognize me immediately me, and serve me water in a martini glass complete with an olive. The bartender and I are pretty tight seeing as he is my ex fiancée; we have remained close. 

I slide into the stool next to my target, and sip my drink silently, while profiling them from the corner of my eye. I must explain that I drink water disguised as a martini for I need to be sober and alert, in order to say smart, well thought out things. These broken men need a strong head, not a clouded drunken one that might say anything. It is disguised as an alcoholic drink so the man isn’t alarmed that I am not drinking and will become suspicious of my intentions. 

                Usually the man will have tried to dress up. Maybe a silk shirt or plaid depending his age. They would have come out with their buddies, maybe alone, but always with the same intention: to pick up chicks. They will start out confident and sure of themselves, but once they set foot in White Walls, their confidence deflates almost completely. All these strange women and not having the slightest clue on what to say or do to actually seduce them. They don’t want to relive not even a second of their past relationship, but that would be next to impossible. 

That’s where they find a lonely stool at the bar and drown their sorrows, leaving the bar at the end of the night alone and defeated. The friends he had come with had left hours ago and possibly getting laid as he hails a cab. Going home to sit in the darkest corner of his apartment and cry into the sweater that still smells of her, breathing in anything that was left of his broken relationship. 

Moving my hand slightly to touch my martini glass I grab his attention and he looks over at me, I do not meet his gaze. This is the test to see if he will find the confidence to speak to me. Ten times out of ten they never do. Looking me over carefully, he takes a deep breath and turned back to his drink. Grimacing I look over to the bartender, Noah, and he nods to confirm that this was a case of the heart break. 

Turning back to the man at the bar I notice his dark plum silk shirt, dark jeans, and Italian shoes shined to perfection. He wears a golden chain around his wrist that reads forever in script writing, and has bags under his deep brown eyes. Sadness swims through them clear as day. I chuckled slightly as I realized we match with our purple clothing and golden accessories.  

“You have a pretty laugh.” He said to his drink. His voice was deep like melted dark chocolate, but his tone was almost tragic. I smiled and looked down to his bracelet. 

“You should really stop wearing that.” I touched the bracelet with my fingertips, ran my thumb along his pinky finger and down his hand. He looked over at me and I met his gaze this time with eyes of understanding. Taking his hand away from mine, he removed the golden chain from his wrist and tossed it into the trash behind the bar. And that’s when I knew this one would be easy. 

“The name is Gary.” He held out a smooth hand. I took it firmly and he seemed surprised. 

Casstella, but you can call me Stella.” I purred. He smiled and his eyes lit up with a brand new confidence. He laid a gentle kiss on the top of my hand. It was only a matter of a few drinks before he’d offer we take off to his place. 

“Have I seen you here before?” He asked, a blush spreading across his cheeks. I smiled, buying myself time. My hair had under gone several dye jobs and quick snips in hope to blend me into the infinite number of faces and sweaty bodies. This has been my spot to pick up broken men for years and it was only a matter of time before someone recognized me and figured out my game. 

“It’s possible.” I said simply, taking a sip from my water. 

“What brings you here tonight?” He asked looking a bit nervous. 

“Oh, you know, what do people usually look for in places like this? A drink here, schmoose there.” He gave me a simple chuckle, he was nervous, too nervous; any girl in here would have surely given up on him. 

“What brings you here?” I asked taking a side step closer to him. The key to my strategy is to let the man know exactly what my intentions were. No mind games. All I want from him is all he wants from me, which is sex. He will know full well that he is not leading me on, or making me fall in love, all I want from him is a roll around in the sheets and to sneak out before the sun comes up. 

“To be honest. I have not the slightest clue.” We both laughed and I sensed the awkward silence to come, so I spoke quickly. 

“I guess that’s the magic in places like this, you don’t need a purpose or a reason.” 

“Just an urge.” He said surprising me. 

“Precisely.” He pulled out a money clip, paid for both our drinks and offered me a hand. I smiled and was again surprised at how quickly this was going. I could see the same shocked expression settled on his face at how easily he had gotten my attention and probably at his rash actions. 

In his black Trans Am WS6 I sprung the question that I am inevitably curious to know. It may be a sensitive topic and if I’m not careful I could turn him off to the whole one night stand thing completely. 

“Why did forever end?” I figured this was a safe way to go, sensing he was in the anger stage and just needed reassurance that he was capable of wooing women. He smiled darkly and gripped the wheel tightly. 

“She was my high school sweetheart and high school was when she started the affair with my older brother who is married.” Straight to the point, directly to the heart breaking truth. He was beyond broken, he lost the love of his life and his brother all in one day. 

“Were you and your brother close?” I had nothing reassuring to say, so I opted for asking another question. 

“Yes. He was my only brother. My best friend.” Was. I have never heard anything like this. Sure, I’ve heard of cheating, lying, backstabbing, and even the occasional I no longer like men story. But for a brother to do this to his only baby brother. 

“You know, life likes to work in mysterious ways.” 

“Like if you f**k my girlfriend, I’ll tell your wife and you’ll have to learn your lesson by undergoing a terrible divorce. He had been cheating on her since before the marriage. She’s gonna take him to the cleaners. It’s not a matter of me forgiving him, but him forgiving me.”  What a twist. 

“How long ago did this all happen?” 

“Three weeks when I found out. Two weeks since I told his wife. Tonight Breanna wanted me back and I seriously considered taking her back.” 

“What changed your mind?” Proof that men had a soft spot. This woman had done a terrible thing to him, yet he wore her bracelet and considered forgiving her. She didn’t deserve his forgiveness and their relationship would never be the same. He would never trust her and she would constantly be trying to get back in his good graces. I knew what changed his mind before I asked the question. 

“You.” 

We made it back to his fabulous pent house in the clouds, and I could tell by giving his place a swift look around that he made good money. I was suspicious of Breanna’s motive of wanting his forgiveness. 

“I’m a writer.” He said noticing my curious eyes. 

“A damn good one by the looks of-” I stopped when facing his massive bookshelf by the window. Goose flesh rose on my arms and legs and my knees turned to Jell-O. “Gary Osbourn. Gary f*****g Osbourn.” Let me explain myself. I am what you would call a free spirit and I loved to read, especially outside in the green grass. I had discovered Gary’s books when I decided to go on an eight hour road trip, round trip, to explore a bookstore I had never been to.  

I had spent the day wondering the streets of a small town, trying two different coffee shops and even playing in an old abandon park. When I had finally made my way to Snowbound Books, I browsed the isles finding a series that would lead to my obsession with this particular author. He wrote mostly of conspiracies and how aliens are trying to take over the human race. His writings had saved me from bad days and opened my mind to endless possibilities. 

“So, you’re a fan?” He came up behind me and offered me a glass of wine. I usually allowed myself to drink once I made it to their place of living. 

“You could say that.” I’ll spare you of the rather long, drawn out conversation we had and just tell you that I engaged in rigorous, angry sex with my hero. He had drifted to sleep rather quickly seeing as we spent almost all night talking, then had sexual intercourse until the early morning rays came to greet us through his massive windows.  

I hugged my knees with the sheets wrapped around me as I listened for his breathing to deepen, then his gentle snores. Sliding from his bed, my feet hit the cold hardwood floor and a shiver ran through me. Slipping on my dress silently, I picked up my heels and headed for the door. 

“Stella?” I froze as my hand hovered over the door handle, and my heart raced. I turned towards Gary and he smiled shyly at me. 

“Thank you.” Relief flooded through me and I smiled sweetly, making my way back to the bed. He sat up as I leaned in and we kissed good bye, a first for me. I wasn’t sure exactly why he thanked me, but as I walked the streets with my bare feet I couldn’t help, but worry that men at the bar were starting to recognize me as a regular. Which only meant that it was time for me to go on another road trip to clear my head and figure out if I should stay in the fixing men business. 

Returning to my one bedroom studio hamster cage, I started a pot of coffee, pulled a thermos from the bottom cupboard by the gas stove, and turned on the shower. Letting the water warm up, I brushed through my long auburn locks, sex hair looks good on no one. Stepping under the scalding water, I close my eyes and try to calm my buzzing brain.  

I had never seen Gary in that bar before, yet he has seen me before. I don’t believe men will actually know what my game is exactly, but I can’t have them feel like they’re taking a woman home who will sleep with anyone. I go into White Walls wearing the sensible, sexy clothing to look like a girl with standards, not what I really am, which is a girl who goes into White Walls to find sex for one night. I try not to think about the exact number of men I have slept with from that bar, but I can’t help but have it memorized. Sixty two. 

Yes that is a lot, but my intentions are good and I can’t help, but feel like my last relationship really messed me up. Noah the bartender who knows my game is happily dating his boyfriend Jack. Yes he left me at the alter for his best man. Though I wanted to hate him, wanted to kick him out of my life forever, he refused to let me drown in my self-pity. He was the one who got me off my parents’ couch and found me this apartment. He would make sure I had groceries and furniture and I even was a bartender at White Walls for a while. 

After raising enough money I took some night classes at a local community college and earned my business degree. I own my own corner store where mostly the hipsters shop. It’s an antique shop that was furnished mostly by my grandmother before I started collecting donations. Business is actually really good and I have saved enough money to move out of this little apartment, but I haven’t had a reason to. It’s just me and if I was being honest with myself the apartment is a little piece of Noah that I still have. 

Finishing my shower I slip on my hoy jeans and braid my hair before slipping on my favorite pair of chucks. Pouring the pot of coffee in the thermos I grab my brown leather overnight bag and head for my Cavalier. The bookstore I had in mind wasn’t as far away as the one I went to on my first road trip, but it was supposed to be bigger. I hadn’t even started my car before my phone buzzed. Noah’s sweet face lit up my screen and I sighed defeated. He only ever called when he needed a bartender for the night. 

“Yes my love?” I answered the phone with our usual hello.  

“Stella. My number one girl-” 

“What time do you need me?” I heard him breathe a sigh of relief. 

“When dusk falls.” He said in his usual poetic way. I looked to my bag in my front seat and the coffee thermos on the floor.  

“See you then.” I said hanging up and grabbing my things from the car. At least this means I can take a nap. You could say I was still in love with my gay ex fiancé, but he was my first love and when I accepted his marriage proposal he was supposed to be my forever. I guess you could say that I need help myself, moving on from my sex. I used the sex to suffocate the feelings that almost destroyed me at the beginning and it was working. It wasn’t making me happy, but it was making others happy, or at least satisfied. If I couldn’t help myself then at least I could help the broken hearted men feel good about themselves. 

Setting the coffee on the counter and throwing the bag in my closet, I fell face first into my bed and didn’t wake up until the sun was low in the sky. Sitting on the edge of the bed I look out the window and over the horizon. I appreciated the way the sky turned pink purple and was streaked with the most breath taking color of golden orange. The clouds seem to swirl in excitement as if they were the cause of the sun’s call back home. 

Going to my closet I find my uniform from White Walls, a black and white c**k tail dress and grab my red stilettos. What? Heels on the job? Pain is beauty my friend; plus I experimented by alternating black heels, red heels, and black flats and by far the red heels got me more tips. This was an ongoing experiment that lasted for the two years I worked at White Walls. Braiding myself a crown I clipped the braids together with a peacock feather clip and went for the smoky eye look. 

The bar was in walking distance and it was a warm evening. I didn’t mind the walk for it was a way for me to calm my thoughts. I was feeling rather stressed for my predicament of my undying love for my gay ex and the fact that men were starting to recognize me as a regular, working tonight was not going to help this problem. When it came to helping Noah there was no denying him. It was my greatest fault when we were dating and now even when he is playing for the other team. 

Upon my arrival Noah was nowhere in sight and the bar was swamped with angry men wanting to buy drinks for their ladies. Springing into action I take as many orders as I can at once and keep the momentum going until the bar was cleared. Noah emerged from the bathroom hall looking disheveled. 

“Oh thank God!” He said looking down at his shirt and looking disgusted. 

“Is that poo?” I asked stepping back from his open arms. Sighing, he disappeared into the break room and I went around clearing the tables. Noah was the only one working tonight besides me. It’s Saturday, the busiest day of the week. Returning to the bar, Noah with his clean shirt disappeared once more to clean up broken glass on the dance floor.  

As I took several more drink orders I couldn’t help, but relive some of my weakest moment when it came to Noah. One rainy night it was girl’s night and we ended up staying in drinking wine and talking mad gossip. Early in the night I received a phone call from Noah where he told me of his flat tire. I was in my car before he even told me where he was stranded. 

My mother’s birthday gathering I was supposed to bake the cake, but Noah had come over to have a movie night and I never got around to baking the cake. I was two hours late to the party with a poorly made cake that read “Happy Bithday Moo”. 

My sister’s rehearsal dinner for her wedding, Noah called me drunk and sobbing, because he and Jack had gotten into a horrible argument. Jack had drove off in a rage and hadn’t returned after several hours. Noah was in a panic since Jack wasn’t answering his phone, turned out Jack was in the garage passed out in the driver’s seat.  

The worst one yet was when my sister went into labor. I was to meet her at the hospital, but Noah had come by for yet another surprise visit. I had tried to explain that I needed to get to the hospital, but he was talking to me in a soft tones and insisted he really needed advice. I missed the birth of my niece for a man who left me at our wedding and wanted to talk about marrying his boyfriend, but it being illegal.  

“Stella? Stella!” Noah’s voice brought me back. I served an older woman her drink and complimented her cheetah print top. Turning to Noah I couldn’t stop the disgruntled expression overtaking my face.

“Who all did you call to come in tonight?” He was wetting a towel and turned to me confused.

“What?”

“Who did you try to call in before me?” I repeated rather agitated. He shook his head and tried to walk off the question, but I grabbed his shirt.

“That’s was I thought. You didn’t even try to call in a backup because I’m the push over. I would crawl on broken glass for you and instead of returning the favor you step all over me!” His face seemed to blanch at the scene I was causing.

“Stella you never ask for anything.” He was right, but I wasn’t done being angry at him. Anger was good, it was something I have rarely felt towards this man. Even when he left me standing alone in a white gown, I wasn’t mad then I was heartbroken.

“Hey, toots could you stop being a drama queen and get me my f*****g drink.” Noah saw it in my eyes, but didn’t have time to stop me. I filled a glass from beer on tap and threw it in the man’s face.

“Enjoy!” I stomped away, but didn’t get very far. An arm slithered around my waist and my stomach twisted.

“Hey! I know you. You’re that girl who f***s everyone.” Oh goody, as if this night couldn’t get any worse. Spinning on my heels it did. The heel of my favorite red stilettoes snapped off and I was left to face this man shorter than I started.

“Everyone? No, most men? Yes, you? Hell no. Now go f**k yourself, because you and I both know no one is going to let you near their lady parts. Not even me.” Ripping off my shoes I let them fall to the floor and I started away from the man only to run into a wall of them.

“I think you should apologize.” I felt a butt squeeze as I heard this drunken idiot’s word.

“Apologize?  I might consider it if he apologizes to me.” The wall of men all guffawed and I simply cocked my hip.

“Okay, so y’all are somewhat decent men when sober, but get even one beer in your jelly bellies you have the confidence of a jack a*s, great, but I’m really not in the mood. If you want to get laid, even by the sluttiest of girls, you’re going to need to be nice.” I looked to each side of me and found a circle forming. I was trapped.

“Nuh uh, had a b***h suck my c**k for free the other night.” He sounded like a hick, but he was wearing a nice plaid shirt and was rather attractive.

“Oh, honey, you’re mom doesn’t count.” Yes I resorted with a “your mom” joke, but I got a laugh from the crowd. The man’s face flushed and he looked as if to lash out at me. I took a step back and was caught in someone’s chubby grip. He held onto my forearms too tightly and breathed down my neck.

“Mhm, someone get her legs, the s**t will take it from anyone.”

“Oh,” I purred. “Didn’t you hear me? This s**t will only take it from people who play nice.” I stomped down on his foot, elbowed him in the gut then jerked my arm up to hook him under the chin. He fell to his knees. I took a step away from him as he released me, only to be caught up by someone else. He trapped me in a bear hug from behind and his hands went into grab mode instantly. My dress didn’t provide much protection and I’m afraid the people in front of me got a nice view of my black panties.

I tried to squirm away, or try my defense tactic, but was stuck in his hot breath, touchy feely grasp. Finally someone intervened and ripped the guy away from me and punched him in the neck, knocking him out. My hero was tall, handsome and a leather clad man with the most piercing blue eyes. A full on bar fight sprang into action, but the man wasn’t throwing punches back, just dodging and starting fist fights between two other people. Soon enough no one paid attention to him or me.

Offering me a hand, I looked back at the bar where Noah had just realized something was wrong, then back to blue eyes. I smiled and rolled my eyes, taking his hand. Running out of the bar he led me to a curb where his black motorcycle sat. Oh, mysterious and rides a motor bike, he just keeps getting better and better. Kicking it to life, I hear the bar door clatter open and a man yell out to me. Jumping onto the back of the motorcycle quickly, I slide my arms around his waist. Holding on tightly he rockets off the curb and into evening traffic.

© 2014 Myrna


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Myrna
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Added on April 2, 2014
Last Updated on April 15, 2014

Author

Myrna
Myrna

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About
M thing is romance, and now that I am i a seriously committed relationship, my thing is still romance. It's real, it's worth waiting for, but first you must love yourself before you love another. more..

Writing
Don't Doubt Me Don't Doubt Me

A Story by Myrna