Tainted

27 - Vee: Disdain

Saturday, May 17

I snorted, watching Linda attempt to rap along with Nicki Minaj through the radio, her head bobbing and ass popping out at every beat. The girl had some pretty good moves, I wouldn't deny it.

"That was perfect, I loved it," I teased, clapping my hands for emphasis of my boss's attempt to "get down like us kids".

"You fucking adored it, I know you did, home slice," she sang, running behind the front counter to empty the cash register.

I laughed again, nodding. "Okay, Linda, honey, I'll see you Monday. And let me know if you get the order of shampoo dropped off by tomorrow, or I could pass by the post office for you and grab it, all right?"

She waved me off. "Yeah, yeah, it'll come, babe. It always does and you always offer, but thank you. And you have fun tonight, all right? Be careful at that party and let Ben know I'm upset that I missed out."

"I will, and thanks," I smiled before I left, closing the door behind me with my smile already faltering.

It had been three weeks since my lascivious incident and I've been attempting to redeem my minx-like actions by surrounding myself with people that encouraged me positively and distracted me from my guilty conscience.

Which essentially summed up to my self-inflicted restraint of attending clubs where I'd meet mysteriously attractive men and go home with them, as if I had nothing better to do.

I seemed to have forgotten that sleeping around to distract myself from my past mistakes didn't prevent shit. Instead, it stirred up even more regret and specks of remorse - enough to make me feel devoid all over again. It was like I didn't learn.

"Hardaze", mom would say in her slang, when she meant to say "hard ears", meaning I was too stubborn and ignorant to listen the first time.

I squeezed my eyes shut as I remembered the way she spoke, the small ache in my chest no longer shaking a sob from me. It had been nearly two years and each day without her numbed my feelings deeper.

I sighed as I pushed the thoughts from my mind, only to have remembrance of the faint taste of mint and vodka sneak up on me without warning. The amount of nights I'd imagined that same bittersweet taste in my subconcious state... The heat of his hot breath bathing my skin and the possessing sound of each accented word that danced from his thin pink lips.

It was no wonder I went home with him, he was everything in a man I'd never even thought of having to myself. He gripped my ass with his needy hands and pulled my hair. He'd growl his commands and left marks on my skin like a savage.

I would have a nose as long as my credit card bill if I said I didn't like it.

I just thanked God I was able to escape out of there before he woke up. It was barely 6AM and I was rolling out of his dead grip, pulling my dress over my head and searching the room for one of my heels.

But I would've been lying if I said I didn't sit on the edge of his humongous bed for merely a few seconds before I left, simply to admire his facial features as he laid in slumber, his face free of worry.

I felt horrible as I left, knowing that going home with him wasn't a good idea in the first place. Nothing even happened, probably to his dismay. He was hammered and I was falling asleep - by the time he'd finally broke his lips from my neck, I was out like a light.

Not like it mattered much to him either, he seemed like the type to probably have the same Friday night routine, sleeping with girls he found at clubs on a basis. One night without a lay wouldn't have killed him - especially without a lay from me. I was nothing to be estatic about.