OH MY GAWD – -I have just inadvertently asked K to move in and am actually showing signs of a panic attack. She isnt answering which is aggravating the symptoms. I cannot breathe – -I need to call 9-1-1- but both telephone lines are tied up !! Theres a brief but extremely uncomfortable silence between us. Its Ks turn to respond. I close my eyes, grit my teeth and brace myself.

Yea, Im here and this time Im holding you to that statement. Ive always said it had to be YOUR decision about our future, so I accept and well talk about all the details together, in person, ***** in love, just not right now. This is a done deal Ms. Big Mouth. Im in. Hey, I gotta go, babe, well talk later and again, Im sorry about leaving the way I did. Love ya.

And just like that it is was over. I release the breath I was holding, open my eyes and relax my jaw. What I thought would be the hard part became the easy part – -tough times ahead but I dont care – I get to face them WITH K.

I still havent found my tank top so I get up, toss the cell phone aside and head to the bedroom half naked. The music from the show still plays (I HAVE A LOVER WHO LOVES ME, HOW COULD I BREAK SUCH A HEART). When I reach the door of the bedroom and see the computer screen with the cursor still pointing to HER story, the events of the past few minutes suddenly become a fog enveloping my mind. And just like that, I cant even remember talking with K let alone what we discussed. My focus, my purpose, my destiny is the story on the screen. For some reason I am not as elated about the prospect of reading it as I was earlier, but I am drawn to it. I will read all my other favorites first , saving the best for last.

I hear the clicking of Freds nails on the floor and look down to see him, still wearing Ks sunglasses, carrying something in his mouth. At first I think it is my tank top but then I realize it is Ks t-shirt she was wearing this morning on the bike ride. It must have ended up under the couch after the strip job we did on the way to the shower. I reach down to grab the garment, but the mangy mutt growls, steps back and shakes the shirt violently from side to side tossing Ks glasses across the room in the process.

Give me that thing you perverted piece of *****, Again, he growls, backs up and shakes. Ok gator bait, I know how to deal with you. I go to the computer desk and retrieve a half-eaten powdered donut. I toss it in Freds direction, he drops the shirt, pounces on the donut and trots away to eat it in his secret place – like I dont know where that is. Moron.

I pick up Ks shirt, still damp with perspiration from the ride. I bring it to my face and inhale the intoxicating mix of scents that are K. How she ever found Spring Breeze deodorant as well as Spring Breeze laundry detergent and dryer sheets is a mystery to me. I close my eyes and parts of our earlier conversation come back to me . . . your decision . . . Im in . . well talk later

What did I do, what did I say, what was so important about what I had decided that she couldnt talk about it on the phone?

I put on Ks shirt and walk to the computer. I want to feel her close to me as I once again betray her– unable to say no to my addiction. I sit down in front of the screen and lay my head on the desk. I slowly and deliberately bang my head on the desktop over and over and over again hoping to knock some sense into my brain — hoping to subdue and pound into submission the urge, the desire, the compulsion, the NEED to READ – -the NEED to READ HER story — the NEED to READ all the stories tonight. But it is useless – -I look up, move the cursor and watch the titillating tales appear.

I have to find a way to tell them how much I enjoy their work, but I cant do it through the comment section. If I do that, they will be encouraged to continue and if they continue, I will fall deeper into the NEED to READ addiction which THEY have induced. They may figure out who I am and may be disappointed to find out I am not who they believe me to be. So maybe I will use an alias, maybe I will use a name already being used by someone else, maybe I better shut the fu*k up.

Maybe it is just my imagination, but sometimes I think the stories are getting better, and there seems to be many new authors. Ive noticed my favorites are starting new storylines or writing two different ones at once. A whole new set of emotional problems are beginning to develop in my brain. With HER posting only once a week or longer in between chapters, I am starting to feel a real attraction to ANOTHER writer and the tale she is telling. SHE better be careful or SHE just might be replaced (yea, like my threatening her top-shelf status is going to make her write more).

I shake my head a few times trying to lead my thought process back to the task at hand when the realization of the ridiculousness of my addiction brightens my brain as if the proverbial light bulb has been switched on.

I CANNOT DO THIS ANYMORE I CANNOT DO IT TO MYSELF I CANNOT DO IT TO K. I MUST FIND A WAY TO END IT.

The music still plays (I KNOW THIS ROOM, IVE WALKED THIS FLOOR I USED TO LIVE ALONE BEFORE I KNEW YOU) and as I start to read the tales from the L I decide that this self-destructive, obsessive, compulsive behavior MUST end. I must find a way to make them stop. I must have a plan. I must plot my revenge. Someone is going to pay for the way I am. THIS MUST END. And it will, just not tonight.. . .not until I read the chapter by HER I have so long awaited, not until the words SHE writes begin to course through my veins, fill my senses, satisfy the addiction , the addiction SHE has created . .

The music still plays (IVE SEEN YOUR FLAG ON THE MARBLE ARCH, LOVE IS NOT A VICTORY MARCH, ITS A COLD AND ITS A BROKEN HALLELUJEH)

Someone has to pay . . .


TBC