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From: declan@weirdness.com
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Subject: {ASSM} Alexandra Ch15(Slow, Romance, Literary Erotica)
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Date: Tue, 18 Dec 2007 15:10:03 -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. The first 13 chapters were posted
lastb week and here are the last few(up to chapter 17).
The complete novel and my other stories are also available on my
website www.DeclanStanley.com.
-----------

Alexandra Chapter 15

And that's how on the Friday of the following week I ended up going
out for dinner with Alexandra. It hadn't been so bad phoning her to
arrange it. She'd actually been in when I called and there were no
awkward moments, no heated exchange of views or accusations of
betrayal. It was just : "Yes, I want to got out with you." "A meal?
That sounds lovely." "Friday night's O.K." "Outside Eason's at seven
thirty." "Great talking to you again." "And the same to you. Goodbye."
and the phone was hung up.
So once again I found myself standing in O'Connell St. on a Friday
night, waiting for Alexandra to show up. Wondering if she'd even show.
But I needn't have worried. She was even on time. Just as the clock
chimed the half hour she came around the corner from Abbey St.
She was wearing a blue silk blouse and a long black skirt. Her hair
was tied back in a pony tail. And she'd a bag over her left shoulder
and a jacket folded across her arm. As she came up to me and smiled I
had to resist an impulse to put my arms around her and hug her. She
looked so beautiful that I very nearly couldn't make myself stop.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi," I replied.
We looked at each other for a few seconds.
"Emm," I smiled to break the tension. "I thought we might go for a
meal."
"That sounds nice," she smiled back. "How about a Chinese."
"That's just what I was going to suggest," I said. "I thought maybe
the Ming Court, down the bottom of Dame St.."
"I've never been there," she replied. "Is it good."
"It's brilliant," I assured her. "I've been there several times and it
has always been good."
We started to walk and I felt like putting my arm around her or
holding her hand. The desire to touch her just kept building. I knew
that I'd have to give into it sooner or later, so I decided to get it
over with.
She was going straight down O'Connell St. to cross at O'Connell
bridge. So I put my hand to her shoulder and half turned to go up
Abbey St. "Let's go up this way," I tried to ignore the feeling of her
silk blouse against her skin. "and we can turn up Liffey St. and cross
at the Halfpenny bridge."
"O.K." she turned to follow my lead and I had to make a conscious
effort of will to take my hand from her shoulder.
We walked for a while in silence. The I asked, "So did you have a good
week in work?"
"Oh, don't talk about it, Kevin," she rolled her eyes upwards. "My
boss was in a fowl mood. Not just today, but the whole blasted week.
Nothing I did was good enough for him ! He's such a bastard."
"Yeh," I laughed. "But did he sign your pay cheque."
She snorted, "That's the only dam reason I'm going in on Monday, I
tell you."
"So what was he bugged about?" I asked.
"Oh, there's this big property deal he's involved with that looks as
if it's going down the drain and he's going to lose an absolute
fortune if it does." She smiled, "Serve him right if he does, the
greedy little sod."
"A ha !," I exclaimed. "So you really love your boss, then."
She smiled up at me. "He's not too bad. As long as you can keep out of
his way until five O'clock."
"Well as long as you enjoy your work so much," I smiled and looked
away.
"Speaking of work," she looked up at me. "How's the writing coming
along."
"Oh it's great," I replied. "I've got over thirty thousand words
written."
"Really," she nodded. "And how many chapters is that."
"Well," I explained. "There are nineteen chapters in the novel. And
I've finished four of them. In fact I'm just about to finish chapter
seventeen."
"Thirty thousand words in four chapters," she shook her head. "That's
a lot." She looked up at me again, "And if there's nineteen chapters
in the whole novel that's ..."
"Oh no," I interrupted. "It doesn't work like that. The biggest
chapter has only six and a half thousand words in it. Most of it is in
unfinished chapters."
"Unfinished chapters," she smiled. "Like the unfinished symphony?"
"Well," I smiled back. "I intend to live long enough to finish them.
And quite a few more novels as well !"
She thought for a moment, "So if you're just about to finish chapter
seventeen, how come you only have four complete?"
"That's because I don't write sequentially," I saw a question forming
on her face and tried to explain. "What I mean is that I write it
scene by scene, but all the scenes don't match up while I'm writing."
She smiled broadly, "Do they match up when you've finished?"
"Well," I smiled back. "That's where the art comes into it." I found
my hand was in her's and couldn't think how it got there. "As I was
going to explain," I continued. "What happens is that I get ... I
don't know, like a vision in my head of say two characters walking
along the road, hand in hand talking to each other. And then from that
I realise that later that same day, say when they're making love to
each other, one of them remembers something that the other said when
they where walking along hand in hand and I skip to that part of the
story and write that conversation."
"Is there lots of love making in this novel," she asked.
"Oh, a little," I replied. "Like every chapter."
"Is this the novel you said you where putting me in?" she asked.
"That's right," I smiled. " I make you out to be this mean, viscous
little bitch."
"Only a little bitch?" she smiled back.
"Well actually," I conceded. "Quite a bitch."
"I want to be the super bitch of all time," she said.
"But then nobody will know that it is you in my novel," I replied.
She looked up at me, "Oh don't worry, Kevin. Lots of people think I'm
a bitch."
"Yeh," I agreed smiling. "But I didn't use your real name."
"Why not?" she demanded.
"Because you'd sue my balls off," I replied.
"No I wouldn't," she said. "I want to be famous." She looked up at me.
"That is," she added. "If it turns out to be a best seller."
"Oh don't worry about that," I assured her. "I have every intention
that it will." I smiled, "I mean why else would I put in all those sex
scenes."
"And am I any good at it?" she smiled up at me.
"You blow his fucking mind, Alexandra !" I looked deep into her eyes.
She smiled back. Then her face became mischievous and she squeezed my
hand, "Yeh, but do I blow anything else?"
I laughed and squeezed back, accepting her challenge. "Eventually,
maybe you do, Alexandra !" I replied. "I haven't written that part
yet."
We'd arrived at the restaurant. I opened the door for her. As she
walked by she looked at me out of the corner of her and said, "Maybe
you'll get some inspiration tonight !"
I laughed as I followed her inside.
A waiter sprang on us immeasurable, "Table for two, Sir?"
"Err, yes," I replied.
As we followed him to the back of the restaurant Alexandra looked over
her shoulder and winked at me.
I stepped close to her, putting my hand on her shoulder and asked,
"What was that for?"
"You just sounded so masterful, Kevin," she smiled back.
"Yeh," I replied drily. "That's me all over."
We sat down and took the menus from the waiter. As I scanned the
starters I realised I was starving. We didn't say much until the
waiter returned and took our orders.
As we waited for our food we chatted about this and that, while
munching our way through a plate full of prawn crackers. Mostly we
talked about films we'd both seen, or gave graphic descriptions about
how good the films that the other had miss . We seemed to have liked
all the same films, but for completely different reasons.
Then the soup arrived and my conversation dwindled as I began to eat.
Even though most of my attention was on my food I could still feel
Alexandra's presence across the table as if a great heat was radiating
form her. I was beginning to consciously feel attracted to her again.
I kept looking up at her, just in time to see her glance away from me.
As soon as we'd knocked back the soup we started in on a conversation
about food. About how the food here was good. About other good
restraints we'd been to. And restraints to avoid. Then we realised
that we'd never had a meal out together before and the conversation
dried up.
Then the main course arrived and our lack of conversation was covered.
The food was so delicious that it we  nearly finished the meal before
we got down to the nitty gritty conversation.
"So Alexandra, what do you want from me?" I scooped up some noodles
and sucked them into my mouth.
"I'm sorry?" Alexandra tilted her head in question.
I chewed quickly and swallowed. "After this long break in our
relationship, what do you expect to get from talking to me now?"
She thought for a moment, then asked, "What did you hope to get from
chasing after me when we broke up?"
I toyed with the idea of telling her that is was me who broke up with
her, but it would only have started an argument. Then decided to be
truthful, "Forgiveness."
"What?" she didn't know if she was supposed to smile or not. "Is that
a joke?" she decided to smile.
"No," I took a deep breath. "I felt guilty about the way I thought I'd
used you. And I didn't trust my own feelings enough to believe that
I'd made the right decision in breaking up with you." I shrugged, "And
I still loved you."
This time she did smile, "Which one was it?"
I smiled back, "All of them." I waved my hand beside my head, "All
mixed up inside, with a whole load of other things. All sloshing into
each other."
She ate a mouthful of her dinner and I ate some of mine.
When she'd finished chewing she asked, "Why guilty?"
I swallowed. "Because I thought I'd used you and I didn't think the
fact that you'd used me balanced it out," I pinched another scoop full
of noodles in my chopsticks. "Then I decided that you'd used me more
than I'd used you and I wanted revenge," I ate the noodles.
She sat back and watched me chew.
"Do you still want to marry me?" she asked softly and looked away.
I smiled and swallowed. "No."
"Why not?" She quickly added, "I mean what made you change your mind."
I shrugged again, "You said no." I thought for a moment. "But more
importantly you didn't take my proposal seriously."
"For someone who tries to be so funny you seem to want to be taken
very seriously," she observed.
"The jokes are just a defence mechanism," I replied. "Underneath
everybody wants to be taken seriously."
"And do you think you took me seriously?" she smiled.
"I would have given anything," I answered. "Done anything for you."
"You would have given anything to have sex with me," she said.
"I did have sex with you, Alexandra," it was my turn to smile. "And
you  the worst lay I've ever had."
Her eyes boiled.
"But then," I shrugged. "I've only ever had sex with a few people, so
it's not really a valid comparison."
She fought to control her anger.
"Maybe those people  better than average," I added as an explanation.
"It takes two to tango," she looked at me.
I nodded. "That's what I keep reassuring myself with. And that maybe
you're just not a responsive as ... say Jasmine. Maybe I gave you just
as good orgasms as I give her, but you just kept it all inside, as
it ." I shrugged.
"And that's another reason I tried to get together with you," I spoke
before she could reply. "My macho ego wouldn't accept that my powers
at making love hadn't totally subdued you."
She thought for a moment. "Is that why you made love to me? To subdue
me?"
"Partly it was about procession," I admitted. "About conquering you on
some level." I smiled at the memories. "And when you where lying
helpless in my arms you where all mine."
"So all you wanted was to conquer me !" she snapped. "What happened to
all this sharing and equality crap."
"Isn't conquering the other person what love is all about?" I asked.
"Isn't that what all the songs say. I want to be your baby. I want you
to be mine. Together forever, for all time."
"Bullshit ! All you wanted was another conquest," she dropped her
knife and fork onto her plate.
"You've had a lot more boyfriends than I've had girlfriends," I kept
my voice level. "You tell me how you're supposed to keep score. I've
always been in love when I've dated."
"Ha !" she glared at me.
I scooped up another mouthful of noodles and didn't reply. I'd eaten
another few mouthfuls before she spoke to me.
"I'm sorry," she almost whispered. "I know that you wanted more than a
one night stand."
"I wanted to marry you," I looked up at her. "To share my life with
you. To have kids and grow old with you."
I looked at her for a moment. She looked down at her plate. Then I
slowly finished my meal in silence.
"You only ever wanted one thing, Alexandra," I placed my chopsticks on
the plate and pushed it away from me.
"Oh Yeh," She looked up. "And what was that?"
I shrugged, "To go out and have a good time."
"And what's wrong with that," she snapped. "Not every relationship has
to lead to marriage."
"Yeh, but you  having all the fun and I was getting all the
frustration," I replied.
She looked angry, but didn't say anything.
"I know, I know," I looked down. "It was my own fault for falling in
love with you." I half smiled, "I should have been more considerate."
"And what does that mean?" she growled.
I sighed. "It was supposed to be another joke. You know, to break the
tension."
"You never told many jokes," she cooled down a bit.
"Yes I did," I replied. "You just never noticed."
There was silence for a moment.
Then I asked, "Did you ever stop to consider what it was like for me?"
She looked up at me.
"Did you never consider that I might be telling the truth when I said
that I loved you?" I looked away. "Did you never think what it must
have felt like to me?"
"I don't understand," she spoke softly again.
"I mean," I swallowed. "What would you think of a man whose only
interest in you was to have sex with you? A guy who would never talk
to you, never share anything with you, and who barely listened when
you talked to him."
I looked at her and she looked away. "What would you think of a guy
who thought only of his own pleasure?"
No that was wrong, I thought. "And what would you think of a guy who
deliberately made sure that you didn't get any pleasure out of it? Who
restricted the acts he'd let you preform to those which wouldn't make
you come."
I looked down again. "Would you want to love him? Would you want to be
used and abused by him? Would you want to share your life with him?
Would you want to be used and abused for the rest of your life?"
I looked back up at her.
She shook her head, "Well of course not !"
"And would you still go out with him?" I asked.
"No," she was beginning to realise that something was big was coming.
"Would you still want to dream about him at night? Would you still
miss him when he wasn't around? Would your heart still miss a beat
every time he walked in a room?" they all came out, one on top of the
other.
"No," she barely spoke.
"Well neither do I, Alexandra," I kept my tone as neutral as I could.
"I'm not a masochist. I don't enjoy the pain you cause me. I don't
want to love you." My voice began to break up, "I never wanted to love
you. But I was never given the choice. You can't choose who you're
going to fall in love with." I looked away again, "If I could it
certainly wouldn't be you."
There was silence for quite a while.
"In my life I have one principal that I stick to no matter what," I
looked across at her. "And that's to be honest. Honest with myself. To
look into my heart and discover what I really want, what I really
feel. Not to let other people tell me what I should do. How I should
be living my life.
"All around us we have people telling us what to do. From advertisers
telling us our life isn't complete without whatever it is they are
trying to sell. To religions telling us how we should feel and making
us guilty about what we do feel.
"I didn't want to fall in love with you. But once I did I tried to
make the most of a bad situation. I tried to be honest with you. I
tried to tell you how I felt. Tried to explain what I wanted from you
and what I wanted to give you. But you wouldn't listen.
"Yeh maybe you didn't love me. So why didn't you tell me when I told
you that I loved you? So maybe you don't trust me. But in my book it
takes a lot of trust to let someone make love to you. You trusted me
enough to take me back to your place and have sex with me on our first
date."
She took a sharp breath.
"Listen what I'm trying to say is," what was I trying to say. "Is ...
That the one think I needed, above anything else, was honesty. I
needed you to be honest with me." I took a beep breath. "I was always
honest with you. I never lied to you."
"Are you trying to tell me I'm a liar?" she interrupted.
I knew that that was too strong. "Well no ..." I said. "The way I'd
put it was that every time I tried to be intimate with you, I mean
emotionally and intellectually ... well ... you just sprouted
bullshit."
She said nothing.
"It's not that you deliberately lied to me," I knew that she was just
about to get up and walk out on me. "It's that you lied to yourself.
You believed your own bullshit. You really didn't think that you
treating me badly, that you  just using me. You really thought that
you  treating me O.K. and that I was demanding more that I should."
I looked down, "And that just makes it worse. That makes it really
sad."
She said nothing for a moment. Then cleared her throat and asked, "Why
is it sad?"
I looked up, half expecting her to have left, half expecting her to
attack me.
She looked back, calmly.
"It's sad that honesty is something that you can't accept," I said. "I
was honest with you and you saw only bullshit. To you what I said
couldn't be the truth. When I said that I loved you it meant that I
didn't, because if I really loved you I wouldn't be able to tell you.
To you everything is backwards, everything is distorted. You haven't
come to terms with what you are, you can't be honest with yourself and
so you can't accept honesty from other people.
"You live in a world full of bullshit. And it contaminates everything
you see and touch." I ran out of steam, thinking maybe I'd gone too
far. Then I shrugged, "Like I said you can't give the one thing I
need. Honesty."
There was silence between us for quiet a while. A pool of stillness in
the background hum of the restaurant. I looked at her and she looked
at me. We both looked elsewhere.
Alexandra clear her throat.
I looked at her.
She looked down at the table as she spoke. "Something very bad
happened to me when I was young," she paused to compose herself.
I interrupted, "I don't want to know, Alexandra."
She looked up at me.
I shook my head, "I don't want to know." I looked away. "I don't know
if you've been raped or abused as a child, or hurt really badly by the
first person you ever loved, or if you never really got over your
parents divorce, or whatever." I swallowed, "But I do know that
something happened that really fucked you up. You hurt inside and I
could feel that hurt every time I tried to get close to you. Every
time I tried to talk to you, to touch you inside, when the shutters
came down and you pushed me away."
The words just flowed out from me. "But you are still responsible for
your own actions, you are still to blame for what you did to me. For
the pain you caused. The pain you feel doesn't absolve you. If you
feel pain then you are responsible for that pain. If you've fed and
nurtured it to keep you going through the long dark nights. Then you
are responsible for it. If you haven't done anything to ease or remove
it then you are to blame."
I didn't think that she understood, and I knew that I couldn't explain
it any better.
I took a deep breath and looked at her again. "So Alexandra, I don't
want to know your deep dark secrete. Because I don't give a shit." I
shrugged, "Because it doesn't explain or justify anything you've
done."
We sat in silence for a few minutes. Not looking at each other. Then
the waiter came to clear the table. "Would you like to see the desert
menu?" he asked.
"Yes, sure," I replied. And he popped the little card into my hand.
I looked across at Alexandra. "The orange sorbet in lovely here," I
said. "That's what I'll be having."
She shrugged. And when the waiter came back I ordered two.
We waited in silence, but the deserts weren't long in coming. I tucked
into mine with relish. I love sorbet and the icy taste in my mouth
picked up my spirits a little.
I looked across at Alexandra and saw that she didn't seem very
interested in her's. I smiled at her. She looked away.
"Listen, Alexandra," I said softly. "We're behaving like little
children. Let's just put the past behind us. We can't go back and
change it. it's finished O.K.?"
She toyed with her desert. "O.K., Kevin," she coincided. "It's a bit
too late now to go back and have a fairy tale romance, I suppose."
I'd have liked to say that we should forget the past and act as if it
had never happened, but I knew that I could never forget what she had
done to me. And I don't think that she could forget that easily
either. But that could just have been my ego talking.
So I finished my desert in silence, but with a feeling of
dissatisfaction. I didn't think that we had really gotten to the
bottom of it. I didn't think that we had resolved all our problems
with each other. There had been a lot missed by both of us. And I felt
that the evening was drawing to a close with out any satisfactory
conclusion.

-----------
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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