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I’ve been dying of boredom, repeating the same things from morning to night. Each day was blurring itself into the next. The only clarity I get is when the weekend hits and I’m getting dolled up with Kayla, preparing to distract myself with another rave. One hand holding a makeup brush caked in peach blush and the other holding a strong fruity drink to my lips. Mentally, I was hoping someone would give me attention tonight, and stick a spike in the repetitive wheel my life was running on.
“I need to go piss,” Kayla shouts into my ear, pulling me out of my drunken thoughts.
“I’ll come with you. I need water anyway.” She leads us out of the crowd. My body continued dancing to the beat, lights rhythmically synced around me. I grabbed my water cup and wobbled over to the benches in the corner, resting my legs from dancing around in my platform heels. Sweat dripped down my chest, at the same rate as some water from my cup dripped down my neck. I looked around the venue at the melting pot of people roaming around, dancing, and talking. Some familiar faces I’d seen here and at other raves, some I’d never seen before. A crowd full of potential. A crowd that gave my life some resemblance of meaning, even if it was brief.
I squeezed my eyes, stretched my legs out, and downed the last bit of water in my cup.
“Hey there, toots.” My eyes shoot open, my hand still holding the empty plastic cup up to my mouth. I felt my stomach twisted into tight, almost painful knots at the sound of that voice. ‘Toots’ echoed in my head, mixed with the sounds of overlapping conversations and intense techno music. There was no way HE was here standing above me. “You look pretty.” The heat from his breath hit my ear, shocking me out of my frozen state as he moved down to sit beside me. I swatted my hand at him like an annoying bug buzzing around me, creating more space between us. Why was he here? How did he get here? What did he want? Was it just for me? I didn’t want to look at him, yet I turned my gaze to the other side of the bench, hoping I’d pushed myself into some weird drugged-up hallucinations. My heart sank when my eyes met his body, leaning back, one arm casually thrown over the back of the bench, one leg resting on his knee, and the typical smug smile painted on his face. There he was, Schlatt, mutton chops and all.
“What the fuck are you doing here? You don’t like raves.” I crossed my arms, scooting even further away, pushing my body against the armrest. “Or crowds of people.”
“My friends dragged me here.” I rolled my eyes, feeling the familiar frustration of trying to have an honest conversation with my boyfriend. Schlatt wouldn’t do anything he didn’t feel like doing, even for the people he “cared” about. I didn’t expect tonight to be a reminder of why I’m single.
“Dragged?” I stomped my heel on the ground, turning my body towards him. “You’re so full of shit.”
“What?” He threw his hands up defensively. “I can’t try something new?” Shit was pouring out of his mouth. I could practically see it.
“I’ve tried to invite you before, but you never wanted to go.” I stared into his eyes. Even though talking with him had my heart racing, my stomach turning, and my head pounding, there was no way I was going to cower at the audacity of this man. I refused to default to being his doormat.
He chuckled, shaking his head, and reaching into his pocket.
“Well, do you wanna go smoke a joint about it?” He patted the pocket of his shorts, a tube shape jutting out. Asshole. Asshole. Asshole. He knew how to get me. He knew my weak points.
“Why do you have weed?” He slid over, now sitting in the middle of the bench, closer to me.
“I got it for you.” Ass. Hole. “Figured I could get you your favorite drug so you’d talk to me.” Manipulative asshole. I sighed, my head falling into my hands. I felt like a dumb little puppy salivating at the sight of weed. Willing to converse with my ex just for some flower. I guess if I can get a joint and a story to tell my friends out of this, then maybe it’s worth it.
“Alright, come on, asshat,” I groaned, standing tall in my heels and pulling him up by his wrist, guiding him through the venue toward the back exit.
This had to be the alcohol making me do this. Maybe a deep yearning for weed. Or maybe it was just me who wanted to be around him, missing the familiarity and craving some affection. Had I mentally wished for him? Was my life getting that boring? That dull?
I walked past the patio filled with people talking and smoking cigarettes and joints.
“Where the fuck are we going?” I didn’t fully know the answer to that, either. We could have easily just smoked in the area designated for smoking, where he expected I was taking us, but my legs were guiding me somewhere else. Part of me didn’t want to be seen with him. Another annoying, stupid, horny part of me was secretly, deep down, hoping to talk with him in a more secluded area might lead to something sexual.
I stopped at an old rusted metal bench pushed against the brick wall of the abandoned warehouse.
“Gimme,” I snapped, sitting us both down on the old bench with my palm out. If I was going to make poor decisions with this dickhead, I had the right to be a bit of a bitch.
“Excuse you. What do you say?” I rolled my eyes, reaching my hand into his pocket and grabbing the tube. I pushed the fabric of his pocket towards his crotch and the way his eyes widened and his body froze filled me with more satisfaction than any dance floor.
“You’re such a bitch,” he muttered after a moment, turning to look out at the other abandoned buildings in the distance. I opened the tube, pulling out the joint.
“You remember a lighter?” He groaned, reaching into his little shirt pocket and pulling out a red lighter.
“You’re also a fucking druggie.” He lit the end of the joint hanging from my lips. My eyes moved up to stare at his face while he concentrated on his task. The light reflected off his soft, almond-shaped eyes, illuminating the beautiful mix of brown and hazel. His hair was long, thick, and gracefully wavy; he hadn’t cut it since I last saw him, but the near-shoulder length fit so well with his round face. Despite his harsh, sarcastic demeanor, and wild facial hair, his features were soft and round. I’d forgotten how cute he was.
“You gonna take the hit or just stare at me until I burn the whole joint?”
God fucking dammit, he’s such an—-
“Asshole,” I mumbled, inhaling and removing the joint from the flame.
“Oh yeah, I’M the asshole.” Oh god, here we go.
“Can you at least wait two seconds for me to enjoy this joint before you come at me with your grievances?” Why did this have to happen tonight? I wanted a slightly awkward, intimate dancing moment with some rave girl on molly, not my ex-boyfriend to find me. He takes the joint from my finger as I’m about to bring it to my mouth. I glare at him, taking a deep inhale, smoking like he’s been doing it for years.
“Oh, you smoke now? What else has changed?” I poked and pried.
“I got hotter and I have more money to spend not having to worry about covering your broke ass.” I rolled my eyes, for like the tenth time since being around him for like five minutes. All these complaints NOW but where was it when he’d grabbed every check from my hands at restaurants way over my budget? Where was this when he’d buy me new high-end lingerie? Or pay for basically all of my weed without me even asking?
“Hotter is debatable,” I muttered. He locked eyes with me, offering the joint back to me.
“Okay, fucking freak. You probably still spend most of your day touching yourself.” I coughed up the smoke in my lungs. Stupid piece of shit. Always exaggerating everything. Always giving me shit for just enjoying myself. “You still have that piss kink?” I sat up as much as I could, turning my body fully towards him, a finger in his face, and the joint still burning between my fingers.
“Shut the fuck up about that.” My voice raised and my face started getting hot.
“Oh, you definitely still do, look how defensive you got. You’re so easy to read.” I squinted my eyes at him as my lips pressed together. I let out a long sigh, going back in to smoke his joint. I didn’t want to give him the reaction he wanted.
“Why do you care? You never seemed to want anything to do with it, anyway.” My eyes drifted up to the moon, mentally praying she could help me out of this situation I had created.
“Well, I’m here now aren’t I?” He leaned back on the bench, tossing his arm over my shoulder. His voice sounded so soft and comforting, tingles spread down my spine. I turned my gaze back towards him, trying to see if he was still joking or being genuine. Possibly both?
There was a long pause.
“Would you-” He stood up, taking the unfinished joint from my hands and placing it back in the tube. His groin was staring me in the face.
“You want that, don’t you? A sick little fantasy you can think about while you’re living the same day again and again.” He grabbed my neck and stared into my eyes. “‘Cause I know how bored you get.”
I didn’t believe what I was hearing, his words created a confusing mess of irritation and my pussy gaining a heartbeat. He gripped my hair, held my pigtails together, and pulled my head back.
“Take them off,” he gestured at his pants. I moved my eyes down to the silver zipper on his black pants, already halfway undone. I didn’t hesitate as the drinks and joint pooling through my veins begged me to fulfill a long-time fantasy, something I had joked about for years with him, but never fully committed to. He knew. The joke wasn’t as ironic as it had started.
I bit my lip, sliding down to my knees, keeping my gaze up at him while dragging the zipper the rest of the way down and undoing the button on his jeans.
“You better take them off before I piss myself.” I exhaled, imagining how it would look to see his gray boxers slowly turn dark, warm liquid dripping down his thighs and onto the floor.
“Oh, yeah? Is that what you want?” he chuckled. “You want me to piss my boxers, huh?” He tugged my braids even more, fully exposing my neck. “You wanna see them get all soaked?” My breath hitched, feeling his hand move to my throat. “Make a big mess for you to clean up?” I whined, squeezing my thighs together at his words. “I bet you’d lick it up off the ground.” I panted, like a dog, below him. Like a dumb, little bitch. His dumb, little bitch. “Then come up and suck the rest out of my boxers.”
I desperately dragged the waistband of his boxers down, his hands still holding me in place, one on my neck and the other in my hair. Despite all the pot I had smoked, my mouth drooled at the sight of his cock. I rubbed it with my hand, licking my lips, and making little humming noises. Memories of his dick deep inside me, pounding me, flooded my thoughts, and the throbbing in my pussy grew. Schlatt moved my head, placing his tip on my bottom lip.
“Open up, toots. Let me slide in.” I gently opened my mouth, sticking my tongue out a bit, letting his length slip into my mouth, graze my gums, and rest on my tongue. God, he always filled me up so nicely. “Fuck, that mouth is just as warm as I remember it.” I let out a moan at his words, his cock twitching at the vibrations. Warm liquid filled my mouth, the taste bitter and salty, similar to some shitty beer that was left out on the back porch all day during the height of summer. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to concentrate on not choking or spitting his piss all over myself.
“Hey,” his hands cradled me. “Look at me.” All I could focus on was this salty taste, the corners of my mouth growing wet. I opened my eyes and stared up at him, seeing that fucking smirk that screamed ‘What an easy submissive bitch.’
“Are you my good little toilet?” I melted into his grip at those words, a warm feeling not only in my mouth but now intensely trickling down my gut. I nodded my head.
This was going to be crazy to process later.
He tilted my head back, pulled his cock out of my mouth and squeezed his tip, letting the remains drip onto my chin. The smell and taste were getting to me, becoming worse by the second. I needed this out of my mouth, but letting it sit weirdly made me wetter. I turned, planning to spit it all out onto the ground, but Schlatt bent down and wrapped an arm around my chest. I squirmed a bit, trying to free my arms from his grasp. My eyes were watering from the scent. I started feeling nauseous.
“Wait, just listen to me. Breath, hon, through your nose,” he cooed. I took a few shallow breaths through my nose. “Listen to me, okay? I need you,” His mouth brushed my left ear, “to let it out slowly,” chills ran down my back, “like it’s coming right out of my dick. Like a little waterfall.” His voice softly ordering me around had me so wet. “You gonna do that for me, babe?” I nodded my head. I’d do anything for him.
He moved his right hand up, taking his thumb and pointer finger, and softly squeezed my cheeks. His piss dripped down my chin as a stream poured out of my pursed lips onto the gravel below. I felt like one of those statues in a fountain, water flowing out of my mouth into the water below.
“Good job, baby.” My eyes rolled back at the pet name. I didn’t let my gaze fall to the puddle below me, scared the sight would make me reconsider my actions.
As the last few drops came out, I loudly coughed out whatever was left. That salty, bitter taste coated on my tongue, in my gums, on the roof of my mouth. The smell still filled my nose, while I tried catching my breath. Schlatt turned my head towards him and pressed his lips to mine in a sloppy kiss. His tongue lapped up my lips, forced himself into my mouth, glazed all over my walls, and lightly sucked on my tongue like he was trying to clean me.
Didn’t realize he’d be so desperate for a taste.
“You taste like piss.” He smirked. I giggled, feeling such a heavy mixture of arousal and dismay. He pushed me to the ground and pulled his pants up. “See you later. Maybe.”
I watched him walk away in disbelief, relighting the butt of the joint in his mouth, a cloud of smoke forming in the moonlight right next to the corner he disappeared behind.