Never Her

Randi writes a little flash story. I have always loathed the "I'm the friend of someone who fucked you over, so you have to accept him/her in our lives, as well" scenario. It can create hella tension, though, so I dealt with it in my way. Maybe some will enjoy. My usual rules apply. Be an asshole in the comments and I'll delete you. Hate the story, love it, confine yourself to commenting on the story and don't get personal, I'm good with that. Get personal toward me or anyone else and you're gone. Thanks to my hommies at Sagacious Insights, who give me critical reads. Love y'all. Randi.

I saw them come in out of the corner of my eye. There she was, just as gorgeous as the day I met her. She was unsettling enough, on her own, but what really disturbed me was that Celia was with her. I would have preferred that Celia had been with a man, or a snake, for that matter.

They came up to the booth where I was scrolling through memes, drinking my mango margarita, waiting on Celia. "Hey, Mac." Celia slid in beside me, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "Can I have one?" she nodded to the margarita. "Look who I found."

"MacLaine." Ithaca slid into the other seat. "Nice to see you."

"Found?" I turned to Celia. "Is there any way to lose her again?"

I heard Ithaca's hissed intake of air.

"Don't be rude, Mac," Celia said.

"Rude? Rude was 'finding' her and then bringing her to this booth," I said.

"Jesus, MacLaine," Ithaca interjected. "Would it hurt you to be civil?"

I turned to her. "We aren't friends, Ithaca. What fantasy in your deluded imagination would cause you to think that even seeing you at a distance, much less being in any close proximity, would be anything other than horrifying to me?"

I turned to Celia. "Let me out."

"Fuck, Mac, it wouldn't hurt..."

"Let me out or I'm going to push you out on the floor," I said.

"No, I'm not moving." She had that stubborn look I knew very well. "Push me; I dare you."

Well, never one to refuse a dare, I scooted over, pushing my body against hers. Since I weighed 230 and she weighed 110, physics became the deciding factor and she began sliding off the bench.

She jumped up before she fell and gave me an evil stare. She started to say something, but I was already walking, out the door and down the block. I summoned a Lyft and went home. I had just gotten comfortable, made my own mango margarita and was immersing myself in my book when Celia came in. Severe weather erupted in my living room. Lightning flashed from her eyes and thunder rolled from her lips.

It really was hilarious. When a five-foot-nothing woman gets salty, it's like you're being attacked by a kitten. I didn't let her get far.

"Celia, shut the fuck up. Sit down, get a grip and speak to me in a normal and respectful voice, or I'll put you on top of the refrigerator and you can stay up there until you calm down," I said.

She glared at me, then she cracked up. "Put me on top of the refrigerator... oh my God. You... You..." she giggled insanely.

She came and sat down. "Why you be like this?" she asked.

"Like what?" I asked.

"You know I'm friends with Ithaca," she said.

"See, I don't understand that. I never have," I pointed out.

"I like her. I've known her a lot longer than I've known you. She moved away and I went to Belize. She met you, you got married. After you were divorced, you moved back here. So did I. I met you, fell in love with you, then she moved back. You never mentioned her. That was a closed book and you refused to talk about it. I had no idea she was your ex until I happened to mention I was meeting her for lunch and you blew up. We had reconnected by then, and I still liked her. I still do."

"I don't," I said. "She's a cast-iron bitch. You know what she did. Has she ever denied it?"

"No, she knows she fucked up," Celia said. "She's sorry. She regrets it every day. She wants to apologize to you, be your friend, hang out with us."

"Sorry, not happening," I said.

"Why not? Why do you hold on to all that anger? Are you going to carry that grudge all your life?"

"I'm not angry and I'm not carrying a grudge," I told her. "Cutting toxic people out of your life has nothing to do with anger or holding grudges. It's about setting boundaries."

"How would it hurt you to be friendly to her?" she asked.

"It kills my vibe to be in the company of a creature I find disgusting," I said. "It's also causing problems between you and me."

She glared at me. "Only because you have this attitude."

"No, it's because you won't stop harassing me about it," I said. "It also causes me to question your judgment and feelings about me."

I could tell that pissed her off. I was fine with that. She was pissing me off, and I had a reason. "I love you, Mac. You know I do. I also love Mom, my sister and Ithaca."

I shrugged. "I never said you didn't. You're free to feel however you feel. So am I. What I really wish you'd do is say, "Fuck you, Ithaca. Eat shit and die. I hate what you did to Mac and never want to see you again." That seems like what I would do to someone who fucked you over like she did me. I've never said that, until now. You're the one pushing this, not me."

She jumped up and ran into the bedroom, slamming the door. Well, that was interesting. I picked up my book and started reading. I heard the shower running, and after about an hour she came out and went to the refrigerator. I thought about going in there and putting her on top of it, but I went in and showered.

She was in bed when I came out, and I got in bed. Not a word was spoken. We lay in silence for about ten minutes, then she scooted over against me, laying her head on my chest and snuggling in, all that ash-blonde hair covering us like a blanket. After a minute, I felt her shake a little, and liquid dropped on my chest. I put my arm around her and gave her a squeeze. She sobbed a little.

"I don't like it when we fight," she said.

"Neither do I. I'm not budging on this, though, Celia. I want nothing to do with her."

"I know, I'll stop. I do love you, Mac. I got you a new book." She gave another little sob.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I found a leather-bound copy of The Great Book of Amber. I know that's your favorite series. You wanna see it?"

"Oh, my God, Celia. Yes."

She jumped up and went padding away to get it, a little naked sprite who inhabited my house. She was the polar opposite of Ithaca. Ithaca was tall, dark, curvy; Celia was tiny, blonde and slender. She complained about looking like a boy, but no boy had that spectacular ass or that curtain of white-blonde hair, swirling around, floating like a mist around her. Her tiny little titties were the most erotic things I'd ever seen, and she had the face and voice of an angel. If I could just separate her from Ithaca...

She came back with the book and a box of tissues. I admired the book as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. It was a beautiful book, the leather binding, the smell, the feel; there was nothing like it. I grabbed her, pulling her over on top of me, squeezing her little warm body.

"I love it, Celia. You are a doll. Thank you so much."

"I looked for a long time," she said. "I like giving you things you want, Mac."

"I don't want anything but you," I said. "Well, and this book."

She giggled. "I just want you."

Her hot, wet, delicious, squishy and plush lips crushed mine. She was on fire. She always had this energy about her, like there was too much to contain inside, bursting out at the slightest provocation. She sat up, pulling the lacy camisole she had on over her head and throwing it in the direction of a chair. I held her up for a minute so I could look at her, my hands nearly spanning her waist. God she was gorgeous: a little blonde elf, tiny tits almost all puffy nipples and areolae, perpetually erect and suckable. She fed me one and I let my lips and tongue pull at it, twisting the little silver bars of her piercings. She loved that, and I loved doing it. She was naked, all firm girl and she was a total smoke show.

Her little hands worked, tugging at my briefs, and I let her pull them off. She nibbled her way down my body, finally swiping at my raging cock before plunging it into the volcanic heat of her mouth, I pulled on her butt until she swung her leg over me and I had access to that hot little pussy. She was very aroused, delicious juices already there for me, and I worked on her until I could tell she wanted me to stop.

She loved a 69, but at some point she always wanted me to stop so she could concentrate on me, then she wanted me to concentrate on her. She could tell I was close, and she increased the intensity of an already fantastic blow job. I shot off while she made lewd gulping sounds.

When I came back to earth, I attacked that sweet little pussy until she exploded, writhing in my arms as I held her hips, that hoarse little whimpering sound she always made during orgasm one of the more erotic things I'd ever experienced. I continued until she exploded again, then struggled to escape, turning around and giving me a smoldering kiss.

I could feel the heat and moisture on the head of my cock, and she pushed, the head popping in while she froze. She was tiny, everywhere, and it always took her a minute to adjust to having my cock inside her.

She groaned and panted as she continued, impaling herself until we were fully joined, then she sat up and rode me like a pony. She was a fantastic lover, energetic, she came easily and often, and her little body was so athletic and flexible she could do amazing things. She came, then spun on my cock, giving me a view of one of the most spectacular asses on the planet. I could see her pussy, the lips forming a perfect erotic cheerio, pushing in, coming back out as she pumped herself on me. We exploded together, that hoarse little cry again, before she spun back around, moved up so she could kiss me and I held my little angel in my arms as we drifted off.

*****

I was working in the garden a week later. I loved growing vegetables, and I was good at it. My tomatoes were six feet tall, and the fruit was huge, just beginning to turn on the earlier variety. I was pruning off the suckers and I heard that voice.

"Hi, MacLaine."

I didn't turn around. "Ithaca. Just in the neighborhood and thought you'd come by and turn the knife?"

I heard her sigh. "You haven't changed a bit," she said. "Still out in your humongous garden. Still angry with me."

I turned. "No, Ithaca, I haven't changed, but I'm not angry. You just disgust me. You're a vile person, and I don't like knowing you breathe the same air as I do."

"How can I convince you I'm not a vile person?" she asked.

"Go away and leave me alone. That would be a start."

"Explain to me what it is that I did to convince you of my vileness," she said.

"Well, there is the bisexual thing you never told me about," I said.

"I agree that I should have told you," she said. "Would you have still married me?"

"Bi and cheater are completely different things," I said. "I don't respect that you didn't tell me, and I don't respect cheating."

"Celia is bi," she pointed out.

"I am very well aware of that," I said. "I'm also aware that she told me that before we were even dating. The thing is, she's monogamous. You aren't, and you never informed me of that, either."

"The day I finally told you, you didn't seem all that upset," she said. "You were kind of mad about me not telling you, but you got over it. What happened?"

"Okay, let's go sit in the shade, since you want to have this conversation again, Ithaca." We walked up under the garden gazebo and sat in the chairs there. It was nice and shady, the bougainvillea vines trailing down the open sides.

"This is nice," she said.

"We like it. You tell me, Ithaca. When did you decide you could talk me into you having sex with Landreth?"

"I have a question, first. Why didn't you want to bang her? She's gorgeous, and she was as hot for you as she was for me."

"What makes you think I didn't want to 'bang' her?"

"You had a shit fit when I suggested bringing her to bed with us."

"That has nothing to do with me not wanting to bang her," I said. "I want all kinds of shit I can't, or shouldn't, have. I want to eat a whole chocolate cake by myself. I don't, for reasons that are obvious."

She laughed. "They aren't obvious to me, You're an adult. If you want to eat a whole chocolate cake, no one can stop you."

"I stop myself," I said. "I don't want to weigh 300 pounds, that would be dangerous to my health, I don't want diabetes, so I limit myself. That's what you do when you're an adult."

"Okay, I get that, but limiting yourself doesn't mean NO cake."

"This is a stupid discussion. I'm done with it," I said. "You wanted to fuck Landreth, I told you I wouldn't be okay with that. You didn't accept my answer, you set it up so I would walk in on the two of you, and you took the chance I'd lose my mind and join you. You were wrong."

"Yes, I know. Why weren't you turned on, MacLaine?"

"My horny factor was drowned out by that fact that my wife tried to coerce me into doing shit I didn't want to do. Oh, by the way, you're still doing it, and you've involved Celia."

"I'm not..."

"You are. You're causing problems between us."

"What do you want me to do? Stop being friends with her? Not talk to her?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'd like. I'd really prefer that you move. I hear California is nice."

"I can't believe..."

"Oh ye of little faith," I said. "Believe, Ithaca, then fuck off. I think we're done here. Go away. If you come back, I'll have you trespassed."

"I know I fucked up. I've apologized. I'm sorry. I did something stupid. Why can't you accept my apology?" she asked.

"Because your apology doesn't change anything," I said. "It's not about that."

"What is it about?"

"It's about consequences," I said. "What I do has consequences. It's the same for everyone. The dildo of consequences rarely comes lubed."

She gaped at me. "Well, that's crude. And deep. Quite an image, MacLaine."

She was crying when she left, but I didn't give a damn.

*****

Of course, that wasn't the end of it. About three weeks later, I was skimming the pool and Celia came outside, stood there with her hands on her hips glaring at me, then came stalking over.

"Did you tell Ithaca we couldn't be friends anymore?"

"I did not," I said.

"That's not what she said. I called her and asked her why she hasn't talked to me in weeks and I haven't seen her. She told me you said she needed to stay away."

"She misrepresented the facts."

"Okay, what happened?"

"She asked me what I wanted her to do. I told her. I didn't tell her to do shit. I answered her question."

"When was this?" she asked.

"A couple of weeks ago. She came over here, I was pruning my tomatoes and she talked to me."

"And you didn't feel a need to mention this to me?" She was quite indignant.

"Do you tell me every time you talk to her?"

"No, but that's because you hate her and it would just piss you off."

I sighed. "I don't hate her. I don't have enough time or energy to hate her. I just want nothing to do with her. Do you not understand that?"

"I do understand, but I don't agree."

"It doesn't matter whether you agree," I said. "She's gone from my life and she's staying gone. Do you understand that, Celia?"

"No, I don't." She was getting stubborn and I knew exactly how stubborn she could become. She was also getting mad. "She's my friend, she's in my life, therefore, de facto, she's in yours."

"You're wrong," I said. "And wrong-headed in the bargain."

"What does that mean?"

"If the price for not being around that bitch is not being around you, I'm going to hate it, but that's the way it's going to be."

"What the fuck? That better not mean what it sounds like," she challenged me.

"I'm sorry, but it means exactly that," I said. "I don't get it, Celia. How can you possibly be okay with her after what she did? I've never understood that, and now I've had enough of it. I've had enough of the arguments, of you trying to talk me into shit, of you constantly mentioning her and setting me up like you did Christ, Celia. I was a wreck, It ate at me, every day, every hour, for months before I was a fully functioning human again. I'm starting to believe that you must be like her, if you are good with her after what she did do me."

"I...you... you prick!" she yelled. "I am not and never was good with her doing that. How can you say that to me?"

That did it for me. I was just as pissed off as she was, but I had a reason to be. She didn't. I turned on my heel, went to the basement, got two suitcases and a garment bag, came back up and went to our bedroom. I started packing what I thought I'd need for two weeks.

Celia came in after a bit and saw what I was doing. "You've got to be kidding me," she said.

"I don't recall saying anything, much less kidding," I said.

"You're really going to leave and go somewhere else like a five-year-old kid running away from home?"

"I would remind you that this is my home," I said. "You live here, but it's mine. I'm being remarkably restrained. Have you noticed? I'm not demanding that you go somewhere else. It's my choice, so I'm going. It won't be permanent. I'll stay in one of the empty condos on Belaire. I'll stay two weeks, giving you time to decide what you want to do. At the end of two weeks, I'm coming back to my home. You'll either be here or you won't. Make no mistake, Celia. It's her or me. If you decide it's her, be gone in two weeks."

It takes a minute to pack for two weeks, and she never stopped raging the whole time. She stood in my way, trying to stop me, and I just lifted her out of the way while she beat on me with her tiny fists.

I owned condos. They were nice ones, and they were furnished. I picked the empty one I liked best and settled in. I never heard a word from Celia for three days. When I came home from the office on the third day, I got out of the truck and started grabbing my computer and briefcase. I heard a car door close nearby, and when I turned around, Celia was standing there. She didn't look that good.

"Mac, can we talk?" She spoke very quietly and looked very shy and nervous.

"What were you wanting to talk about?" I asked.

"You and me," she said.

"Just you and me?" I asked.

She shook her head. "There's more to it than that."

I sighed. "Come on, then."

She looked into my face for the first time. I'm not sure what she saw there, but she dropped her eyes immediately.

I opened the door and let her in before putting my things in their usual place. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Klarbrunn?" she asked.

I had to laugh. That was her favorite sparkling water brand, and the only one I could stand. She'd persuaded me to try others, and I hated them. "Why would I buy that shit if you weren't going to be around?" I asked.

She looked up at me and giggled. "You did, though. I've got you hooked."

I trudged off to the kitchen and came back with two glasses on ice. She sipped hers and sighed. "Mac, I've been miserable."

"Good. Maybe now you know how I've felt," I said.

She scrunched up her cute little freckled nose. "Yeah, sorry about that. I've kinda been thinking. I don't like all the people you know, either, Mac. I've told you I hate Eric. You stopped inviting him for barbecues."

"Why do you hate him, anyway?" I asked.

"He's a fat greasy pig who leers at me," she said. "He makes me shiver and feel like I need a shower after he looks at me."

I had to chuckle. "Well, a lot of people seem to feel like you do about him, especially women. You were saying..."

"I was saying that I can't tell you who your friends can be, but I don't have to like them," she said.