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From: declan@weirdness.com
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Subject: {ASSM} Alexandra Ch13(Slow, Romance, Literary Erotica)
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Date: Fri, 14 Dec 2007 13:10:03 -0500
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Hi
I have posted various chapters of this novel to various newsgroups and
web sites over the last few years (and from several different email
accounts). I have lost track of where I post what. So I have decided
to post the complete novel here over the next few days.
The complete novel and my other stories are also available on my
website www.DeclanStanley.com.
-----------

Alexandra Chapter 13

Back when I broke up with Alexandra, or she broke up with me, I had
this fantasy of her coming back to me and telling me just how big a
mistake she'd made and that it was all just a big misunderstanding and
that she'd discovered that she really loves me after all, and I, in my
fantasy, would reply with a long list detailing just how badly she had
treated me, before slamming the door in her face.
It was the one thing that I fell asleep dreaming about most, after
having tossed and turned for a few hours feeling sorry for myself
because I'd lost Alexandra. It was the one thing that I thought would
have made my life complete. As is the way of the world, now that I no
longer wanted it I was about to get it.
Jasmine threw a birthday party and invited a whole bunch of people.
Mostly her friends, but a few that I knew as well. It was all set to
be a great night. In fact it started out excellently. I had a few
beers, talked and joked with seemingly everybody. I felt I was going
to have a great time, even through I'd only known a few people to
start with.
I'd had about four or five beers when Alexandra arrived. Of course
Jasmine hadn't told me she was coming, or even that Alexandra had been
invited, all she'd said was that bunch of people from the Tennis club
were coming. So it came as a bit of a shock when Alexandra walked in
closely followed by a couple of other girls. And by the look on her
face it was as much a shock for her as it was for me.
Jasmine appeared from nowhere and, grabbing my elbow, guided me over
to meet her.
"Hi, Alex," Jasmine smiled. "Glad you could make it."
"Hi, Jasmine,"  replied lamely, her eyes locked on me.
"Oh. I believe that you both know each other," she took us both by the
elbow and pulled us a step closed together.
"Hi, ," I said. "Long time no see."
"Hi," she replied. Then pulling herself together she turned and
introduced her friends. "This is Mary and Sinead." And she looked back
at me, "This is Kevin."
"Hi," I managed to look away from  and smile at them.
"Hi," they said in unison.
"Why don't you help yourself to drinks," Jasmine waved at the heavily
loaded table.
"Thanks," they spoke in unison again and move towards the table.
 and I looked at each other for a moment longer. Then I felt Jasmine
leave. I said something like, "See you later" and hurried out into the
hall. I caught hold of Jasmine's elbow and turned her to face me.
"Why did you invite her without telling me she was coming?" I hissed.
"I wanted to get you two together," she smiled. "And I didn't think
that you would turn up if you knew she was going to be here."
She was probably right, but I didn't want to admit it. "I'm not
avoiding her !" I said. "She's avoiding me."
"Well I didn't tell her you'd be here," she said. "She didn't even
know that I knew you until tonight."
"Why do you want to get us together?" I didn't understand Jasmine. I'd
have thought that she would want me to avoid .
"Because you have unfinished business together," she sipped her drink.
"What do you mean?" I tried to keep my voice low.
"You can't run away from her," she put her hand on my arm. "The scars
won't heal unless you confront her."
I snorted. "I've tried confronting her," I said. "But she would never
talk to me."
Jasmine looked down for a moment. "Well now you have another chance to
try."
I looked suspiciously at her, "Is this some kind of game?" I shook my
head, "Because if it is ..."
"I'm not playing games with you, Kevin," she looked around at her
guests. "I can't really explain now. But you have got to decide if you
really love her or not."
"I've already decided that !" I took hold of her arm as she started to
move away. "That's why I'm with you."
She smiled at me and gently removed my hand. "Talk to her and see what
you mean to each other now. That's all I want." She put her hand to my
cheek, "Believe me I don't want to share you with her. But you have to
get her out of your system." She took her hand away and straightened
up. "Now I've got to circulate. Enjoy yourself."
"Thanks," I called after her.
A couple of minutes later I was sitting on the settee in the front
room having another beer.  came over and sat beside me.
"Hi," she smiled at me. "How have you been?"
 "Fine," I smiled back. "And how are you."
"Oh, O.K. Can't complain," she looked around for a moment. And when I
said nothing asked, "So you live here now?"
"Yes," I smiled at the joke I always make. "Jasmine charges a rent I
can afford."
"That's nice," she looked away again.
"Look , what do you want from me?" I was beginning to experience a
resurgence of emotions that I'd been suppressing for months. But I
still can't figure what they were. Was it love or hate, anger and
bitterness? I really don't know.
"I just want to talk to you," she shifted uncomfortably on the settee.
"Well you never wanted to talk to me before," I think the bitterness
had worked its way to the top.
"What?"  couldn't believe it.
Whether she couldn't believe what I said or that I had actually said I
don't know.
"All you ever want to do was go out and have a 'good time'," I crushed
my empty beer can. "And I mean that in every sense of the word."
"That's not true," she almost whined. "I wanted to be loved just as
much as you ever did."
"Don't give me that bullshit," I interrupted. "Your 'little Miss.
sweet and innocence routine won't work on me any more."
She sat up straight, "And what's that supposed to mean?"
"It's supposed to mean that I have nothing to apologize to you for.
I'm the offended party. I'm the person who was fucked about, who was
used and abused and betrayed."
She said nothing as I leaned forward and took another can of beer from
the coffee table.
"I'm the person who was hurt again and again," I said. "And who again
and again tried to patch up the relationship. Who tried again and
again to talk to you, to explain what you were doing to me. To ask you
to stop and treat me with some respect."
There was silence for a moment then she asked, ever so softly, "And
what respect did you ever show me."
"What respect did you let me?" I replied without thinking.
She said nothing, just sipped her drink.
"The respect I showed you was in treating you like a human being," I
started to explain, but knew that she wouldn't understand. "In trying
to talk to you as an equal. Trying to explain what you meant to me,
how I felt about you, what I wanted from the relationship." I stopped
to take stock of my thoughts, but just came up with the same old
recriminations. "I didn't use you. I didn't take advantage of your
feelings from me to prop up my flagging ego. I didn't reject you. I
tried so hard to get close to you, to love you, just to hold you
even."
There was silence for a moment.
"You never even let me do that did you. Just to hold you and be with
you, to feel you in my arms." I looked at her, "But you don't
understand what that meant to me. How important you were to me. How
much I wanted you to love me."
"Now that's bullshit, if I ever heard it !" her hands gripped her
glass tightly.
I felt devastated. There I was, having once again opened my heart to
her, explained how I felt and it had gone straight past her. She would
never understand.
"All you were ever interested in was having sex with me !", she
realised she'd raised her voice and looked around to see if anyone had
noticed. Then looked back at me, "Night after night you tried to
seduce me. Again and again you tried."
I took a deep breath. After all I'd done not to seduce her, not to
force her to have sex with me. From the fear of raping her to the
guilt and recriminations that would follow "getting carried away in
the heat of the moment". And there she was accusing me of the thing I
most didn't want to do.
I looked at her and could see the anger that still bubbled in her
eyes. Maybe, I thought. Maybe she just said it because she's angry. Or
maybe she really believes it.
"Yes I wanted to have sex with you," I said. "But I told you what that
meant to me. I told you," and I knew even as I said that she'd never
believe it, "that it meant that I loved you."
I knew then that she couldn't believe that I could love her and want
to have sex with her. It comes from the early training that "If he
respects you he won't force himself on you. If he really loves you
he'll wait until you're married to have sex with you." Anybody who
won't wait until you're married just wants to fuck you and only says
that he loves you in order to have "his evil way with you". There was
nothing that I could do to convince her that my passion came from my
love for her. Nothing.
I sipped my beer and she sipped her drink. But I decided to have a go
anyway.
"You don't understand the strain I was under. There I was getting
excited, getting my passions aroused, for want of a better
description. And I was supposed to control it. I was supposed to hold
it all inside and not rape you. And I did it." I smiled a thin smile,
"Oh you'll never know just how close you came to being raped. Just how
thin my control was at times. And there's not a court in the land that
would convict me of rape if I had.
"You got your kicks out of frustrating and humiliating me. Out of
deliberately getting me sexually excited and then denying me my
orgasm. Denying me what you dam well made sure you got every time. You
made sure you came and made doubly sure that I didn't. How long did
you thing I could put up with that?"
I looked up at her and she looked me straight in the eye.
"You did what you did because you wanted you to," she said. "You did
it because you thought I'd eventually succumb to your desires and have
sex with you."
I wanted to say to her that I'd never made any secret of my desire for
her. That I'd never lied, nor tried to trick her. That I'd wanted to
make love to her because I'd loved her and getting my own pleasure was
less important than giving her her's. That I was not ashamed of my
feelings. That I wasn't guilty about wanting her. That every time I
made love to her I was saying "I love you." That the more pleasure
that I tried to give meant that I loved her more and more. That the
physical love making was just a symbol of the real and deeply felt
love I had for her. But that, no matter how hard I wanted to, I
couldn't keep giving myself to someone who couldn't tell me that she
felt the same. Who couldn't act as if she loved me. I wanted to stress
that my feelings were normal, legitimate feelings. That they were
nothing to be ashamed of. To tell her that loads of people felt what I
felt. I wanted to tell her and explain everything. But I couldn't even
try.
"That's right," I looked away. "And when I no longer wanted to make
love to you and get nothing back I stopped. And then you stopped even
pretending to be interested in having a relationship with me."
I toyed with the pull ring on the can of beer, but didn't open it. I
thought that I should get up and leave, but didn't. I thought I should
say something else, but didn't know what.
So I just sat there, playing with the can of beer and looking at the
carpet. And  sat beside me probable trying to decide to leave or to
think of something to say and coming up with nothing either.
Then once again my fascination with clichés and stereotypes came to my
rescue. A phase she'd just used stood out in my mind.
"So you thought that I was trying to make you 'succumb to my
desires'?" I looked at her.
She shrugged and looked away.
"And what about your desires?" I asked.
She looked back to me. "What?"
"What about your desire for me?" I asked. "You invited me back to your
place. You wanted to get physically intimate with me. You knew, at
least after the first couple of sessions, that I'd make you come. You
wanted to have your 'good time' or your 'cheap trill' or whatever
you'd describe it as. I didn't force my way into your flat and rape
you. You wanted me there."
She said nothing.
"Was it some kind of test?" I smiled. "Did I not give enough. Was I
not man enough for you? Was I supposed to force myself on you, even
though every time I asked you said "no"? Did you want me to rape you?"
"That is disgusting, Kevin," her voice was ice cold. "How could you
say such a thing?"
I looked away. "One part of me thinks that you really don't know what
you did to me. Another says that I got just what I deserved," I
shrugged. "And yet another says that you are a shit faced little
pervert who gets her kicks out of humiliating and degrading men." I
looked at her, "Which is the truth?"
She said nothing and I went back to toying with the can of beer.
"Listen, we both said some things that we really didn't mean," she
smiled at me.
I shrugged.
"I still want to be your friend," she said.
I slowly shook my head, "We can't be friends, ."
"What did I ever do to you that was so bad?" she started to shout.
Then noticed that people were looking at us and stopped.
I opened my mouth to answer, but couldn't think of anything to say.
After all I'd said already, what could I say?
There was silence for a moment. I can't remember if there was much
background conversation from the other people in the room, but I think
we had definitely become the centre of attention.
"Did I really treat you so badly?" she smiled at me.
I nearly exploded on the spot. "Do the words cruel and heartless mean
anything to you?" I said it as bitterly as I felt it.
"Don't be silly," she sipped her drink.
"Silly," I considered the word. "Silly?"
I looked at her and she looked away.
"Silly means stupid. Doesn't it?" I paused a moment. "Well I guess
falling in love with you was the stupidest thing I've ever done in my
life."
She looked up at me.
"So I guess I was being silly," I shrugged.
She said nothing as I opened the can of beer. I took a gulp from the
can and swallowed it noisily. We sat there for a few minutes, saying
nothing but unwilling to leave.
 tried another gambit, "You've just got a distorted memory of the
whole affair."
"Oh I remember it well ," I was very angry now. "I remember that all I
wanted was an easy lay. I remember that all I wanted was to go out and
have a good time. I remember that every time you mentioned love I
changed the subject. Every time you mentioned being closer together I
mentioned breaking up. Every time you mentioned marriage I talked
about divorce."
I could see the pressure building up inside her. But I was on a roll
and wasn't going to stop. "I admit that all I was interested in was
fucking you. That as soon as I came I couldn't get rid of you fast
enough. Once I finished fucking you, once I'd got what I wanted, I
couldn't kick you out of my flat quickly enough.
"I remember getting a great kick thinking of you walking home alone in
the early hours of the night," I was going over the top, but months of
frustration couldn't be turned off that easily. "And I remember the
ego trip I was on when you kept coming back for more. When you kept
coming back and telling me that you loved me and I kept rubbing your
face in the shit."
She opened her mouth to try to answer me, but I was shouting at her
now. "I'd despair for weeks on end, ignoring your telephone calls and
not returning your messages. And when I came back you'd profess your
love for me and tell me how much you'd missed me. Just like the
complete and utter arsehole that I treated you as."
I had to pause to take a breath and she jumped in. "It wasn't like
that," she was totally frustrated and close to tears.
"I know it wasn't like that, ," I just didn't give a shit how she
felt. "I was there. Remember? I was on the end of all your ..." I
tried to find a word, and came up with, "BULLSHIT !" After all the
months I'd rehearsed it and called her everything from a "Fuck-faced
little cunt" to a "Prick teasing pervert, who gets her kicks out of
humiliating and degrading other people" all I could come up with when
the time came was "Bullshit". Now that was humiliating.
"I didn't treat you like that," there were tears running down her
face.
My anger had been vented, but there was still a lot of bitterness
left. "Oh ... just go and fuck yourself."
I stood up and walked out. There wasn't a sound in the room. Twenty
five people stood around looking shocked and embarrassed. And I felt
that once again I'd made a fool of myself over .
In the kitchen I found Jasmine and a few other people tucking into the
food.
"Is every thing alright?" she asked, an Au d'oeuvre in one hand and a
glass of wine in the other. "It seems to have gone awfully quite in
there."
I headed for the fridge. "I need another beer," I avoided looking at
anyone.
"Don't you think you've had enough?" she ate the o d'oeuvre in one
bite.
I stopped, the door of the fridge half open and spent a moment cooling
down. I felt like getting really pissed.
"Yeh, your right," I closed the fridge door and walked over to the
drinks. "A vodka'd be better."
As I poured myself a generous helping I could feel Jasmine looking at
me. I raised the glass to my lips and she came over to me.
"What happened?" she asked.
"We argued," I replied. "What did you expect."
"You didn't talk about your differences?" she took the glass from my
hands and sipped.
"It's impossible to talk to her," but I couldn't help smiling at the
face Jasmine made at sipping neat vodka.
"Sometimes I think I don't understand you," she handed the drink back
to me.
I took a large sip.
"But it doesn't last long," she continued.
I looked at her for a moment. "Is this about  or the vodka?" I asked.
She smiled and started to move away. "I must circulate," she replied.
I watched her go, bemused, but reassured. And I hadn't even known that
I needed reassurance. I put the drink down and headed for the
bathroom. Strangely enough when I got there it was free. As I washed
my hands I decided to call it a night. I just couldn't face the
remainder of the party.
Crossing the landing at the top of the stairs I heard a couple of
people in the hall below.
"Trust Jasmine to lay on some juicy entertainment," a woman said.
"Yes," another replied as they closed the door. "But wasn't he her
latest boyfriend."
"Is that all my life is to you?" I asked the empty air. "Just a juicy
piece of entertainment?" But I was too pissed off to bother getting
bitter. I felt I'd already had enough of that to last a life time.
So I walked on to the bedroom, opened the door and found a couple of
tangled bodies on the bed.
When I'm drunk I get aggressive. And when I'm tired I get aggressive.
But when I'm drunk and tired I just can't be bothered.
I switched on the lights and they froze.
"Hey !" a man's head untangled itself and looked in my direction.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm kicking you out of my bed so I can get to sleep," I put an edge
in my voice, but I really didn't want the hassle.
"Oh," he got embarrassed. "Right."
They moved apart and started to readjust their clothing.
"Sorry," the woman's face was red. Embarrassment, heat of the moment
or too much blusher? Who knows?
She pulled up her tights and panties and straightened her dress. The
man zipped up his fly, pulled up his tie and stuck his shirt inside
his trousers . The woman found one shoe and started to panic when she
couldn't see the other. The man put on his jacket and started towards
the door, but stopped when he saw that the woman wasn't coming with
him.
I walked over to the bottom of the bed and picked up her other shoe. I
said nothing as I handed it to her.
"Sorry," she went a deeper shade of red. She quickly slipped it on and
almost ran out of the room. The man wasn't far behind.
I sat on the bed and stared at nothing. The noise of the party
continued all around. I could feel the silence of the bedroom press
down on me. But I couldn't face seeing anyone.
Then there was a soft knock on the door. I looked up, but didn't
answer. The knock came again. If I said nothing I was sure that
whoever it was would leave.
"Are you in there?" came 's whisper through the door. She tried the
handle. I'd not locked the door and she slowly pushed it open and
stepped inside.
I looked at her.
We said nothing for a moment.
I looked away. "What do you want, ?"
"I don't know," she paused. "But I can't leave you like this."
"Why not?" I could feel tears beginning to build in my eyes. "It's too
late to make me believe that you have any feelings for me now."
"But I have feelings for you," she stepped closer.
"No, ," I shook my head. "I wanted you to want me. I wanted you ...."
I ran out of words.
"Do you really love me?" her voice was a horse whisper.
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I looked at her in disbelieve.
After all I'd said and done she could still ask that question.
"No, ," I looked away again. "After what you did to me, how could I?"
Silence for a moment. Then, "I think I really love you." and she was
gone.
I sat, looking at the closed door for a few minutes. Had I heard her
right? Did she actually say that? What did she mean it? And why had
she left?
My tears started to flow then. I don't know why I cried. I don't know
for how long. I just lay on the bed and buried my head in the pillow.
The party noise was a background haze behind the ringing in my ears
and the sing in my eyes. It gradually got quieter. And as the music
was switched off I fell into a frustrated and restless sleep.

-----------
Copyright Declan Stanley.
The full story can be found at: http://declanstanley.com/novels/alexandra/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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