Page 14

Sundrop: June 2022

I put on a cute outfit absolutely tailored to what I know he likes. It’s June and the weather has been nice. Except it’s supposed to rain around the time he wants to meet, so before I even get a chance to ask him, he messages,

Cole: Hey, do you want me to pick you up later?

Me: I was just about to message you to ask you that, do you mind? I could make jokes about not wanting to get too wet before I see you?

It takes a moment to get a reply, he’s been busy doing God only knows what after all.

Cole: Yeah, fuck the rain, I want to be the one to make you wet

Oh, fuck me! Ever since he told me the first time my outfit was lovely, but I was too covered up for his liking. I had made sure to go out of my way to wear things that would turn him on. I had laughed at first, but he really pissed me off with that comment.

However, I was today wearing the most cleavage showing top I owned. It is pink and wrapped around at the front. It was a bloody pain in the arse to get tied correctly and sitting properly. It’s a crop top but the way it holds my tits together is as if Satan’s very own hands are currently supporting my breasts. They looked amazing and sinful as hell.

My tits are probably the only thing he will be able to focus on or see at all. That is exactly what I wanted to achieve, I want to unnerve him, set him on edge. I also wear a black short skirt and boots because my strappy heels didn’t fit as well when I tried them on as I remembered so I had to make do with the boots but it looked a little edgier than elegant.

I walked out to meet him where he was parked outside my house and part of me was a little annoyed that he didn’t come out to get me or at least open the car door for me. I got into his car, and he was looking hot. He stared at me, but didn't make any motion to touch me, as usual. No hug, no kiss, not even a handshake. I would have taken a handshake at this rate.

Absolutely no physical and my confidence dropped a little.

It’s weird, right? Does he not want me? Was he only entertaining me because he was bored, and I was giving him attention? I was feeling really rejected overall.

Still, he started his car, and I leaned back in my seat. I felt like this could be exactly where I was supposed to be. Sitting next to him while he drove us around. His passenger princess. “No one’s actually been in this car since I got it, I think you’re the first to ever sit in the front actually” He says and I quickly reply, “Ha, well, it’s a nice car.”

It is a nice car, and he was obviously doing well for himself and the confidence, pride he had in himself was noticeable. He was carrying himself differently, better. A little straighter and surer of himself. I liked the difference in him. He was so fucking gorgeous.

We drove the short distance to the cafe and got our drinks and sat down at what had become our table. I liked being out with him but there was something feeling off to me that he would not touch me, not even a little hand on my back to guide me, nothing.

It was disappointing but as usual, he was chatty and engaging enough that I didn’t get a chance to think about it much. He distracted me with his flirting, of which he did a lot. It was nice. Sitting talking, him telling me about what he had been up to, a natural flow of conversation which spilled over from our text conversations. You’d think that talking to someone all day every day, that we’d run out of things to talk about, but it just wasn’t like that with him.

He kept his eyes on me, I could see him looking at my cleavage and I pointed it out a few times. “Can you blame me for looking?” I smiled widely at that. “No…”

I was licking my lips more than normal, the sugary sweet taste of the Frappuccino coating my mouth and I longed to go home with him, to taste his mouth. My tongue has some exploring to do. My eyes drifted from his eyes to his mouth and back again a few times. I found my eyes on his arms too, as he leaned against the table. He was leaning quite far across the table towards me as time went on, as if he was being pulled closer to me. I felt like he was attentive, I felt like he was interested in everything I was saying, in what he was asking me.

He smelled so good too.

I tried to ask him questions but I kept getting flustered and he stared at me, smirking, he knew the effect he was having on me. I was a serial killer, had 25 kills under my straight jacket of a belt and I was nervous on a date. I wouldn’t have been nervous in his bed, my natural habitat, I would have come alive with our clothes off. I tried taking deep breaths, but he just giggled at me.

I wish he would have at least held my hand.

I refused to touch him first though. I had told him this already. I meant it that he had to be the one to touch me and make that first move. His touch, it might have stabilised me the way that I needed. Reassurance, that’s what was missing.

It was nice though, just the two of us for once, previously there had usually been someone else around but being on our own together, it felt right. Exactly the way it should have always been. I liked him, a lot more than I let myself admit. I really wanted it to work out. I wonder how much of this is all in my imagination, how much I’m pushing him to be here when he obviously doesn’t want to spend time with me. If he wanted to, he would see me more often, wouldn’t he?

It’s getting to the point of what feels like I’m being coercive. If he does finally give in and fuck me, it’ll be because I bullied him into it and not because he really, enthusiastically, passionately wanted to… I don’t like how the whole situation is making me feel.

I am confused.

One thing that killing again has shown me, is that I am not in as great shape as I had hoped. My weight had creeped up a bit and evened out a little now. I was still bigger than was practical for killing. Murdering men is better when you have a decent amount of muscle. It does unfortunately make it a lot easier so when I see that there is a new gym opening close to my home next month, I think about joining. I used to love being at the gym. I love cardio, the elliptical being one of my favourites. Although I feel like I am with a lot in my life, severely out of practice.

Me: I’m planning on going back to the gym, losing some weight and learning how to lift weights finally

Cole: That’s cool

Me: Means my tits will get smaller.

Cole: You’ll still be fucking hot Luna

Do I need validation from a man about my body? Absolutely not. Do I want Cole to find me attractive? Yes. I do. I’m starting to think that he doesn’t like me at all. Reality is creeping in the more times passes that he is not sexually interested in me and is only using me to get off.

The way that men can fuck anything living or inanimate and still orgasm. That’s all I am to him, a way to masturbate that’s more interesting in just using his own hand and imagination. I’m providing him with visual stimulation.

Can I walk away from him? Someone whom I believed I’d end up with? The person I did want to end up with?

It’s been months now and although I was trying my very best at being understanding, ultimately, he is not giving me what I want or need and as a result I can feel myself getting bored with him. It’s not enough without the physical side of things. I don’t even mean sex.

Just simple things like increasing the time he spends with me. I’m lucky with all his avoidance to spend a few hours with him once a month. I had hoped to see him once a week to start, then steadily increase to more than that.

I don’t even get that even though, according to him, he spends his evenings and weekends mostly alone.

He’s reminding me of Nicholas.

That’s not a good parallel.

I can feel myself pull away. My phone pings and I no longer go rushing to see what he says.