It Used to be Good Ch. 01

Part I:

There's no telling how I fell in love with him, I just did.

Blake, the one boy I couldn't stay away from. In high school we had our ups and downs, ones we could laugh about, and ones to this day we still don't want to mention.

We got back together, as friends, when I got back from travelling around Canada. Then when I got a cell phone we began texting constantly.

Here's who I have to thank for him and I; True Blood Season One, and the two women at Financial Stop on the corner of Main and Alfred; one who spoke about masturbating with cucumbers and hotdogs and the other who chastised me for not being able to deep throat a man.

I know; "What?!"

At first Blake and I were only meant to be bloodletting partners. After True Blood my blood-fetish/obsession was rekindled and Blake offered to be my donor. I wanted it bad and had never told anyone that secret of mine, and to be accepted with open arms (and veins) was such a shock and blessing I thought I would burst! A few nights later I was at work with my most two wonderful ladies and they were (once again) talking about sex.

I told them that I was exhausted that day because of last night; just before the ladies could rib me on who had so totally exhausted me, the first lady piped up about a strange dream she had had last night about being fucked by a large brown sausage. The other and I, were laughing. A fax came in and I spoke with the woman who had been laughing with me and from that conversation she learned I could not deep-throat.

The second woman turned to the first woman to share this interesting fact about me when the first woman turned around, one hand high on her hip, the fax held in her other hand and a noticeably large semen stain on her left thigh;

"You can't suck cock?!"

My cell phone rang. Saved by the bell; Blake was on the other line and I told him what he had just saved me from answering and the earlier conversations of the day as the second lady swatted the first and chastised her for making me 'embarrassed that I couldn't do it'.

"Tell them it was me,"

"Huh?" I so eloquently grunted

"Tell them I was the one that exhausted you last night."

And after I hung up the phone he texted me with details on how he had so completely 'fucked my brains out'.

I told the women; they were shocked. Do you know how hard it is to shock women who talk about what type of hotdogs are best for masturbating? I didn't think so.

Later on I texted him on how much I loved telling them all about him and I, and through evasive questions and answers; we fell in love... again.

Part II:

The first time I saw him in over a year was through a screen door.

I had been sitting on his steps, my heart pounding faster with every text he sent me, telling me he was getting closer and closer to his home where I was waiting for him. He arrived in the back and went through the side door, which is why I didn't get to see him until it was through the screen door.

He was wearing mirror glasses, a black t-shirt (with some stupid band named the Doors or something...), black pants and white sneakers.

When I hugged him I saw he had earrings in, U-shaped with balls on the end. It turned me on to see them. I had dressed especially to see him, I wanted him to see past the short boyish hair and into the sexy girl who had been trying for so long to make her own head realize she'd loved this boy in her arms since they first met. I wanted to dress in a way that would say "here I am, deserving of your love and finally ready to love you back for all those years we missed." I think I did a pretty hot job.

We went inside, past his confused parents, who I heard that when told Blake was seeing me again they responded with; "Heather?! You mean Heather Heather?!" I guess they had heard the highschool stories too.

Walking straight into his room I plopped myself down on his bed, I knew it would kill him after so long of dreaming of me there, to see me finally in the place he's always wanted me. Albeit with a few more clothes on then he would have wanted but hey, you can't complain. I knew it would have killed me.

We stared awkwardly for a while, then he took a marker and drew a heart on my shoe, (I still haven't washed it off). As he was bent over my foot, which I had propped on his leg, I couldn't help but reach up and entangle my fingers in his hair. He had a picture on Facebook, the one that made me actually think of him like; "Oh my god I want him in my pants." And now, finally I was touching the hair that had started the churning and coiling in my stomach.

I got to dye it black last week, just the bangs though. And that's another story, let's just say the hair hasn't stopped making my heart sputtering or my stomach feeling like a hive of bees are occupying it.

Soon after we were making out on his bed. I remembered the way he kissed, it was surprising how familiar it felt to have his lips over mine. And the way his smell enveloped me, I had missed it so much, all those school days on the cafeteria benches, leaning my head on his shoulder and feeling safe and loved. They say smell is the best memory trigger, and it felt like a gunshot to my soul.

Then his mom called out from the kitchen. Again, very awkward. I had to leave to go meet up with another friend in the area so we decided to call it quits, for the sake of his parents of course, not the blood rushing to my head at a million miles per hour, of course not!

He held my hand and walked me to the bus stop where we shared a cigarette. I mooched a bus ticket off of him then let him kiss me goodbye, and fuck that boy can kiss. I almost wanted to miss that bus and take the next one, just to sit on that peeling paint bench with some realtors face and number on it, with him nipping at my lips and teasing my tongue.