I was filled with a bout of sadness. I don’t really know why. Come to think of it I’m never really happy, there are always shadows lurking within me. Maybe it’s just in my nature not to be wholly happy. Today it was just too much, I could feel the weight in my chest. I slept for the most part of the day. When the night came, I could take it no more. I freshened up. I needed air. Black gives me comfort, so I put on my black bra, take time staring at my reflection, at that girl in the mirror. My fingers caress my neck for a bit. I feel lifeless, like I am a hollow, like blood flows not in my system.
I sit on a chair at the front of the mirror, naked except for my black bra. I wish I could cry, but crying is something I never learned to do so instead I pick up my makeup and surround my eyes with dark shadows. There’s a darkness in my eyes already, I don’t know whether it’s the sadness in me, I don’t really care. I put on my black mascara. Then I go for my favourite red lipstick, a little touch of foundation powder.
I comb my hair. It’s big and unruly, I love it that way because I love the wild, I hate the calm. I get my black thong on, and my favorite necklace. It has the letters `B.I.T.C.H’ so bold anyone can see. I complete the look with black stilettos. A smile actually curves my lips. I wish I could walk out like this, wish I didn’t have to wear clothes. I should get a tattoo on one of my butt cheeks with the word `bitch’ in English, French, Chinese, Spanish each under the other. Four neatly written lines.
I touch my right butt cheek, it should be on the right one, it will look better there. I bite my left index finger nail and stare at myself, my nails are long and claw like, in gray. I run them across my body, I love the feel of it. Tania isn’t around, she hates being in here with me so I’m all alone most of the time. Maybe next semester I should be in a room alone, but I need to get on someone’s nerves it thrills me.
I pick my dress up from my bed where it has been lying and sniff it eyes closed. It’s black with a golden zipper from top to bottom, sleeveless, hits me right under my ass and leaves a lot of my bust in sight. I sprinkle perfume on me, pick up my black studded purse and walk out the door. It’s 11:00pm. I take a bodaboda to slick lounge, get up those stairs, walk in with head held high straight to the counter. I order a Guinness and drain it down my throat.
`You da one,’ Rihanna fills the air. I twist and turn my body, I love Rihanna so much sometimes I want to be her. When I dance to her music, I do it like the music is in me. With my Guinness in hand, I’m quite a sight, I twist, turn, wiggle…sometimes I feel I should have been a stripper.
I got eyes on me in no time. Some try to approach me, I keep sending them off till the perfect one comes. He looks like he’s in his 30s and he’s really tall, I still have to look up to see his face.
`What drink?’ he asks right in my ear.
`V&A,’I tell him and that’s the start of one drink after another. I dance with him. I arch my back, raise my arms and circle his neck with my back to him. He touches my mounds, my ass swells against his hard body. His hands travel lower to my waist, drawing me closer, we become one;indivisible moving together…it’s erotic. Everything about our dance. We perform for no one but ourselves. He kisses my ears, neck…and I turn in his arms, touch his lips with my own. I know nothing about this guy, not even his name, and that’s where the thrill lies. Some people look at us, most don’t care, but I whisper to his ear, `Find us somewhere private.’ His eyes go wide. Shock? I don’t really care. I give him that look of mine that makes blood boil and he takes my hand and leads me to the parking lot. I find myself at the back of a tinted car in no time and I go at him, like a tigress.
I work on his afly, and touch him, he’s hard. I can tell he’s losing his senses. He’s touching me frantically. The zipper of my dress goes open. I’m naked except for my underwear. I carry condoms in my purse, I put one on for him, take off my thong and then ride him. No words, we don’t talk. Just moan and groan till we’ve both had our fill. I dress up. He starts to speak and I put my index finger across his lips. `Shhhhhhh…no words.’
`But_’
`Don’t talk. Don’t introduce yourself. I don’t want to know.’ When I’m done sorting myself I get out and match away, back to my bed because my life is back.
He’s probably wonder for the rest of his life who I am…but there’s something thrilling about mystery.
Yours truly,
Trudie
