Nip at their necks. Tease. Smear her arousal across their lips. And pull away before it got to be more than that.And I’d sit there way up above on a catwalk looking down, and sketch her as she was. Unencumbered. Not dragged down by name or depression. She’d melt into a sea of bodies and become just another Oakland face in the crowd. I guess it was a ritual of a sort. Create a mask so thick it’ll bury everything, even the tragic girl beneath.As the hours would wear on, she’d grow wetter and wetter. And up in my stoop, I’d get meditative and creative.And with drugs pumping through our veins throughout the night, we’d end up fucking wildly in dimly lit restrooms and darkened corners, her leg hooked around my waist, her teeth sinking in my shoulder.When we were really fucked up, we’d wind up in a raised cube made of evenly spaced, intricate glass and wood latticework designed to create a quasi-silhouette effect of the inside. A giant shadow box for VIPs to enter as hundreds of strangers. ’ ‘I…I guess Mrs. Forrester doesn’t want to do anything with me again,’ Matt thought, dispirited, as he watched her walk out of the room. Disheartened, he showered, dressed and went downstairs. Ricky was already in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal. ‘Morning, Matt,’ Ricky said. ‘Good morning, Rick,’ Matt said. He sat down and ate without saying anything. He felt embarrassed sitting there with Ricky, given what he’d done with his friend’s mother the night before. Mary noticed their guest’s silence, saw the despondency in his eyes, and understood what motivated it. It pained her that there was nothing she could do about it. She had to keep anything more from happening between her and Matt. When the boys left for school, Mary cleaned up the dishes and began her daily chores. ‘Have I really made the right decision?’ she asked herself as she worked. Mentally, she cataloged all of the reasons she could think of for halting her affair with Matt while at the same time she purposely ignored.
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