She sat there, sexy and foreign, wearing a night gown made of silk. The delicate strap fell over her shoulder. You could just see her right nipple. Her hair was curled and bouncy. Her eyelashes long. Her eyes empty. Her hamstrings showing. Her feet, for those who love those. She was smoking a thin cigarette, very foreign. She was beautiful.
“Why don’t you say you love me?” she asked him.
Him was sitting on a leather chair, stomach out, hairy. Only a woman could find that attractive. He had something but was only sure of it sometimes.
“If you want a man to love you then never let him know he does,” he said.
“Do you love me?”
The man put his hand to his forehead.
“As soon as I say I love you its over. I will start lying to you, to myself. I want you around, I come see you, isn’t that enough?”
“I want to meet your wife.”
“You two wont get along.”
“I know what you are scared of,” said the whore.
Everything, he thought.
“That we will speak to each other, we will find out you lie to both of us. We will all find out together you're a fraud.”
“Then ill find another two who don’t,” he replied.
“Why are you so mean?”
“Can you quit with the sentimental bullshit? I never lie to you, that is the connection we have. I need a break from the truth every now and again so I fall into illusions. Then, when awakening I tell you what I found. I suffer and you get the blood of it. So, how about this, you and my wife meet and you stop letting others fuck you?”
She stood up, looking like your greatest dreams. She walked to the room. She bent over, exposing everything. He couldn’t say no, no one could. Then the door creaked open beside him, eerily. It sent shivers down his spine. He stood up.
“I don’t know anymore,” he said.
“What?”
“Who is using who.”
She got to her knees on the bed, held him in her arms and whispered, “Don’t take it personal.”
The man put his clothes on and put ten pound on the dresser. Walked down the stairs. Put his hat on. Got into a cab. Got into home. Got into bed.
“Are you awake?”
“Yes,” replied his wife.
“I love you.” She didn’t reply.
“Do you think I have something?” he asked.
She kept her sleep mask on and asked, “Like what?”
“You know… just, something?”
