Last night

On my long and boring drive home, I had enough time to think about: what is it exactly that I long for in my relations with Greg? Big cock? Money? Cravings for adrenaline?  It was warmth. The banal warmth that I felt with every cell of my body when he was around. Since he disappeared, and I was positive he would never show up again, I felt I should find a good substitute so I could live my life without having him on my mind all the time.
The way out was simple: a very warm shower and a plush blanket.  – First I jumped under the warm water and stayed in the shower for 15 minutes, and then I continued the warm therapy under the green plush with the Vogue magazine and fresh strawberries.
When I heard the sound of a text message that night, I knew, I felt, it was him again.
“You’ve been with someone in Turandot, who is he?”
 Mike, the BDSM dude I had lunch with there. Apart from cajoling me into his sadist-masochist fantasies, Mike is a nice guy, always arranges our meetings in best fine dining places, talks sugar, brings fantastic presents, and is respectful. 
I texted back smirking: “Someone I am happy with, none of your business, bye”  – I knew Greg would respond, he is possessive to a fault.  The IPhone started ringing, which was very predictable. I put the Vogue aside, shoved the phone under the pillow, turned the light off, and felt the plush all over my skin – very soft and warm, much better than Greg’s touch – he was always rough with me anyway.
Two hours later the door bell rang. He is really a night guy, and does not care much if I need some rest at 2 am. I opened the front door, he was big, warm, and worried.
Just checking if you are ok” – his hoarse whisper made me shudder
Go back home, your Emy is waiting 
“My wife saw you with a guy in Turandot, how long have you been cheating on me?
“He is here, you need to leave now, forget this address, it is over” – I tried to show confidence, but my body was shaking
He violently pushed me and went into the bedroom, jealous and furious. I heard him moving the furniture and checking my closet. The first time I felt his vulnerability and helplessness. I turned on the TV and tried to focus on the news.
“No one is here. You are a damn liar, Vixen”  he came back and threw the TV remote into the wall. He looked disparate.
“Greg, go away, please”.  I was too tired for the drama, wanted my warm shower and my blanket. He came very close, I raised my head and calmly looked into his Jewish eyes. “This is over, go”, –  He had that flat pit-bull look, horrifying and magnetic.  The next moment he grabbed me by my neck, lifted, and threw me away. I heard the slam of the front door and the screech of his Audi. He left.
I will never see him again, this is so painful, I can’t stand it, I want him back.  I could not even cry, I was frozen.

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