Rita Finds True Love Pt. 01

Fuck....I'm fucked. I knew Ed wouldn't think twice about giving the work to some other girl if he didn't get what he wanted. He's that kind of person. I'm not getting any younger, and jobs are harder and harder to come by. Could I do other work? Maybe. What? What? I have no other skills or degree. The work on the contract was just what I wanted to do. And I was going to get paid a lot. A lot. And as Ed said, I am hardly a virgin. I do fuck a lot of men. But still. I do it on my own terms. Really. Could I do it? My life only seemed to be getting worse and worse. But. Just one fuck with a stupid guy. And am free. How bad could it be? Fuck.....

I feel like a rat who needs to put his head in the trap to get food. The difference is, the rat doesn't know it is going to be killed, I knew the trap was going to snap before I put my head in, and I did it anyway. I was that hungry. As in, I could lose my apartment, hungry. Or, only be able to afford to eat apples and carrots, hungry.

"Ok, Ed. Have him meet me at my bar, you know the one, at eight, tomorrow night." There I said it.

Snap.....

I could feel wire hit my neck, strangling me.

But back to reality. The quickest, most painless way out of this. Focus.

One last look in the mirror, then I got a condom out of my purse. No fucking way am I going to let him actually cum in me. I shiver at the thought.

I exit the bathroom. Ralph is lying on the bed waiting impatiently. I twirl around showing off my body to him. Give him a little show.

"Fuuuuck! Wow! You are so beautiful. I bet you hear that a lot."

Actually I do. Way too often. I would rather hear other things.

He looks at me. His eyes are literally bugging out. If he was any more excited we wouldn't need to have sex tonight. He would have shot his load right then and there.

I jump into bed.

"Let's get your clothes off. Help me."

If you have ever seen the magician's trick of pulling the table cloth off suddenly without moving the dishes, that's about how long it took for the two of us to get Ralph's clothes off.

Ok, I am going to try not to puke, but I might. Easily. He could compete with the Pillsbury dough boy for flab. I would never go out on a date with a guy this much out of shape. Never. Another item on the, "I don't like you" checklist.

His cock is passable though, I've seen worse. But time to put a sheath on it so I don't have to look at it, and before there's an "accident".

"Wow, you have a big penis Ralph! I want it inside me. Now! Don't keep me waiting."

I roll the condom onto it. I smile inside. All your fucking goo is going to stay right inside there and not be inside me. Score one for me. He looks disappointed, but I tell him I could get pregnant otherwise. Not much he could say to that.

Time to get him lit up, and this thing over with.

I play with my pussy. Spreading it open right in front of his eyes so he can see deep inside it. He is going to cave any second. I can tell. Just a little more visual excitement and I could get him to do whatever I want.

I turn over on my back, continuing to play with my pussy opening it up. I raise my legs up in the air.

"God! I'm so horny Ralph. You've got to put that big cock in me now. I have been thinking about it all night. Put it right in here (I spread my lips wider). Fuck me Ralph. Now!" I look at him with bedroom eyes. I have heard men audibly moan when I look at them that way.

If Ralph had any plans on how he was going to do me, which I am sure he did, they went out the window. In fact, I am positive that is all he has thought of the past few days. Maybe weeks or months. Details of every move he was going to make. All kinds of positions, being sucked off, licking me out, doing me doggie, and no telling what other fantasies, of what he was going to do to me. Now I offered up my pussy to him. There are few men who would have the willpower not to follow through and put themselves inside me. Really, you'd rather kiss me, suck my tits, than be in my vagina, when I'm begging you? I doubt it.

And before I could even finish saying, "Fuck me Ralph. Now!", he was inside me.

His little pecker was working away. He is very heavy. I can hardly breathe. He is hot and sweaty. I don't like the smell of him. I can feel his hot stinky breath on my neck.

I have to get this over with fast. FAST!

I turned up the heat.

"Oh yes Ralph. You are so big. That feels so good. Fuck me. I'm a dirty little whore. Dirty whore. Ahhhhhh....yesssss. Yesssss. Do me just like that. I am a slut Ralph....a dirty slut..."

It sounds so fake to me, but Ralph seems to be getting incredibly excited by it.

I tried to gauge which expressions got him the most excited. He liked me saying I was a slut and moaning really loudly. I amped this up.

"Yes, yesssss, ohhhhhh, pound me Ralph. I'm a dirty little slut. I love your cock...it's so big....ohhhhhh...ohhhhhh......"

I grab him as best I can around his fat back, dig my heels into his flabby ass and ride him like a horse at full gallop. His fucking little cock doesn't stand a chance. I can tell the speed that works best and stick to it for a minute, then amp it up. In/out/in/out/in/out in a flurry.

"Oh, I'm cummming Ralph.....ohhhhh....ohhhhhh....yessss...yesssssss.......cum in me...cum in me....cum in me NOOOOOOOOOWWW....RALPH......NOOOOOOOOOW.....oh god.....yes like THAT.....CUUUMM IN ME..CUMMM!"

I could feel him shuddering, pushing deep into me. He was orgasming.

YES!!! I did it!

I knew from the internet the average time it takes a man to orgasm is 5.4 minutes. Ralph beat that by two minutes. Thank god that was over. Now to get out of here.

Ralph rolled off me onto the bed.

Thank god! Our bodies are no longer touching.

He started talking at hyper speed.

"Wow! That was fucking awesome. You are incredible. Fuuuuuuuuuck. Was it good for you. It was soooooo good for me. You? It was fucking amazing. You are so beautiful. Fuuuuuuck. I can't believe I am with you. I have to admit I ask my brother to set this up. I've seen your photos on the walls of his office. On the internet. Catalogs. I pestered the hell out of him for weeks, months. Drove him crazy. Bat shit crazy. And I wasn't going to stop until I got a date with you. Well MORE than a date."

He made that stupid face again.

"Still, I can't believe it actually happened. Fuck. You are amazing....."

He kept on like this, droning on and on about how good it was.

At least now, I had an idea now why Ed did this. He is still is a shit though. The line he was going to find other women if I refused was bullshit. He wanted to have leverage over me, the little shit. Ralph wanted me, just me. I am not sure if that makes it better or worse. Worse. If I had known it, I wouldn't be here.

I excuse myself.

"I need to use the bathroom."

I went into the bathroom, turned on the shower. I got into the shower, let the warm water flow over me, and cleaned every inch of me with soap. Even though he didn't cum in me I still feel creepy and not right in there. The shower wasn't enough to wash it all away, but would have to do. I needed to wash Ralph off of me. When I got out I dried off using several towels. I put my clothes back on. The mirror was steamed up. Just as well. I didn't want to look at myself. I really didn't want to look at myself right now.

I opened the bathroom door and Ralph was lying there snoring. Fuck him. I got all the rest of my things and left. I've never felt like such a piece of shit, and degraded as this. Ed was going to pay. Somehow I would get back at him.

Down the halls again. The people in the rooms are pointing and laughing at me, I am sure of it. Stop it! I know. I know. It was a stupid thing to do. I'm ashamed. I couldn't get out if there fast enough.

When I finally emerged onto the street again I could breathe a little easier again. I let the sound, the energy hit me, go inside me. I closed my eyes for a minute letting the sounds totally occupy my mindscape. I try to put the last few hours completely out of my mind. But when I open my eyes my shit life and what I have just done came flooding back.

Soon I was flowing north with a greatly reduced current of people. I found a small group, like a raft, and clung close to them. They were my salvation. I hear them talking. They are funny. Full of life. I drift with them, listening, until we reach my apartment building. I reluctantly let go of the raft. They drift away. Soon I can't hear them. I am alone.

I squint my eyes so I don't see all the doors in the hallways and think about what they are all thinking about me. The best I can come up with is, "Fuck You". That's the kind of thing you say when you don't have a real explanation for something stupid you did. You're just lashing out.

I open my door.

My dog hears me and runs over.

"Mommies home. Sorry baby. I need a shower."

I still feel polluted, dirty somehow. I take another shower, scrub myself even more thoroughly than at the hotel. I take some sleeping pills, put a mask on and try to go to sleep. My dog jumps into bed with me. I pet him. I have bad dreams. But who wouldn't.

I wake up late. Shit. What have I done? I shuffle around in my pajamas, and make some coffee. Look out the window. It seems to be a nice day outside. My dog looks up at me.

"What? I know I was very naughty last night. Don't look at me that way. You want a home and food right?"

He's not convinced. Neither am I. I feel like getting in bed and crying all day.

I have reached a new low. I fucked for money. I am better than this. Much better. I need a life. I need true love. I am so lonely and sad. I need to stop bringing guys home just to fill the void. It only makes me feel worse. Makes the fact he is no longer here, burn a hole through me. Will I ever be able to fill that hole? Why the fuck can't I find someone who will truly love me again. Surely there's someone out there.

I resist texting any of my girlfriends, adding anything to my social media. What could I say? As far as I am concerned yesterday was a black hole. Nothing was ever going to emerge from it and see the light of day. Ever again.

I look at my email. Ed has already written to me.

[ I have talked to Ralph this morning. He says he had an amazing time with you last night. He wants to see you again. What do you say?]

I wrote back

[ Fuck you Ed, and double fuck Ralph. No way I am seeing him again. You've gone way too far this time. Fuck you ]

I push send. Instantly I think twice. Will Ed pull the contract? Did I do what I did last night for nothing? I don't care. Better to lose the work than do that again. I'll figure out another way if it comes to it. Never again. Previously I asked myself, how bad could it be. Bad. Really bad. How will I live with myself now?

I look at myself in the mirror in my bedroom. The one with multiple reflections. I am sure at least a few of them I really don't like, or want. I need to get rid of them. Fuck you Rita 6, Fuck you Rita 10. You took me down the wrong path yesterday.

I decide I need to go out today. I want to hide under my covers, and just cry all day, but I know that's the worst thing that I could do right now. I decide to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I love going there and losing myself in time, in the paintings, the sculptures. It might just be the right therapy.

I dress for the adventure. More of a disguise really. People tend to stare at me, so I put on baggy loose clothing, a hat, and glasses. I put my hair up.

Ed emails me back

[You're right. Sorry Baby. I'll talk to Ralph. I think you really helped him a lot last night. And me. Maybe he will stop bothering me now. Though I doubt it, lol. Thank you. The contract should be ready in a few days for you to sign. I'll let you know. Love you. Ed]

I write him back

[Thanks. Just tell me when. But you are still a piece of shit. Rita]

I fill the dog bowl again. He doesn't look as accusatory this time. He even looks a little sympathetic. Come home soon, he is saying, and I'll cuddle with you. It will be alright.

Bye my love. My only love at the moment.

I rush through the building, down the sidewalk. I try to look straight ahead, head down. I don't want to hear voices coming from the apartments, or look at people on the streets. Surely they will know what I did last night, and think I am a whore, just by looking at my face.

Instead of looking at people to stay distracted, I think about "My Favorite Things. Julie Andrews singing in my head, "Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens....." It seems to help.

I find the entrance to the subway. Down into the earth. I am always struck by the smell of it. What is it? Earth, electricity, burnt pretzels, grease, the collective sweat of a million people?

Everyone is rushing, rushing, rats in a maze. Down tiled tunnels, down stairs, only to stand and wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. In a tube. Then the screech of the train. The doors open.

It's too crowded to sit. I grab a pole. I can't decide whether to go "Julie Andrews" or look around. Looking around wins the first go around. But I can't see much of anything. Men and women's backs, fronts, feet. I admire a woman's pair of shoes. Where did she get those? Cute. And another woman's hair. It is beautiful. The train lurches. Back to Julie Andrews. She gets me mostly to my destination, though occasionally I switch back to looking at the cute shoes and the beautiful hair. The hair is replaced by a nice coat, then later a fat man who presses into me a little more than necessary. I move to the door. I watch the walls of the tunnel go by. "Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes..."

My stop. I get off.

More tunnels, stairs, tunnels, stairs, until like ants we all burst from a hole in the ground to the surface.

I buy my ticket for the museum.

There is a hollow sound of the multitude of people talking, the sound of shoes clacking on stone.

I head to the Egyptian galleries. I think about all the time that has flowed since these things were made and used. So much time. I feel insignificant. My life is so tiny in the flow of all of history. I certainly haven't done anything worthy to be put in a glass display case to be looked at, and pondered 4,000 years from now.

If anything, what would they put in there? How do you display love, followed by loneliness and pain? As they pass by my case, "Look, poor thing. So sad." So far there is an empty case beside it. My future. What will be in it?

I shake myself out of this unhelpful thought stream, and look at the beautiful jewelry.

The only thing that bothers me, is that almost everything here were found in tombs. They are death objects. I would prefer we had things from the living back then. I try to imagine what wonderful things the Pharaohs and their wives must have had when they lived. I let myself drift away with the thought.

I am sitting on a throne wrapped in gold cloth. My subjects bow to me. My servants bring me wine and food on large plates. There is music, dancing, singing, The Pharaoh looks over at me. He wants us to go to our bedroom and make love. The air in our bedroom is scented with perfume. A warm gentle breeze blows off the Nile blows through the curtains. We lie down on the bed, soft, with pillows. He looks down into my eyes with passion and love. Our warm naked skin touches.....

A man bumps into me. "Sorry." My day dream disappears in an instant. I continue through the gallery. I want to touch the stones. They are so old, polished so they shine. I resist somehow. I really should learn to read Egyptian hieroglyphs. What messages are surrounding me I can't read?

I go back to the lobby and then go upstairs to the paintings. I want to get lost in them.

I stare at your eyes until I am inside you, Vincent. You were surely mad. Mad. But so much passion. I visit Provence. Feel the heat of the sun. It is a wonderful feeling. I feel fresh and alive again. It's the yellows I think. Sometimes the brilliant green. I stare at the sunflowers, the fields. Could I be happy being a farmer? Cutting wheat? The paint is so thick. My eyes follow the brush strokes. I think of your hand holding a brush in the heat of the sun. Somehow the world jumped into your eyes, out of your hands, and you managed to turn it into this, with globs of paint. Magic.

I entered a painting and became a ballet dancer in Paris. It looked like very hard work. Ballet school. I am exhausted. But I love dancing. I have a beautiful tutu on. I wanted to jump and spin. Talk to the other girls. We are twittering birds when the teacher gives us a break, which is not often. I could stay here all day and dance and dance and dance. I really want to literally jump into the painting. Live there. Oh, well. Time to move on. The people around me are getting impatient.

Then there were the lost women. Sitting in bars getting drunk on absinthe. They looked old for their age. Defeated by life. Fuck. I was too much like them today. If I lived then I would look like her. Slumped over with a dazed look. Do things ever change? How is my life any better than theirs? I need to move on. This is not why I came here. To be sucked further down.

Others, I liked better. More of a party atmosphere. Picnics and boating. Pretty straw hats. Would I have liked wearing a bustle? Bath in a tin tub? Carry a parasol? I want to lie naked on a blanket at a picnic. Where is my lover? The man with the mustache and a boating shirt? He doesn't look too happy for some reason. I need to find another man. Just like in real life. Keep moving.

I spend a lazy hot afternoon in Tahiti. I have long black hair. Wear a colorful wrap dress. It seems I don't need to think or do anything but sit here. My sister is with me. Maybe we are sharing gossip. Giggling about something. We can just spend all of time, eternity, suspended just like this, hanging on the wall. Never changing. And it would be ok. Life will go on, flow around us. Good life or shit life. We don't care. We are sisters, enjoying a wonderful afternoon.

I see rather corpulent women, nudes lying this way and that. So much flesh. Pink. Did Renoir really like them that way? I could not be a model for him, that's for sure. I imagine myself fatter, lying there while he painted me. I have a feeling at some point we will take a break and he will be looking at me in a different way, for a different reason. Were they loved, did he love them, or were they just used, as an object, like me?

Then I see her. I always love looking at her. Her black dress cut low, contrasting with her very white skin. Her head turned in profile. Her nose seems too big, but somehow not unattractive. I stand there staring for a long time.

At Madame X.

"What do you think she is thinking?"

I hear a very nice male voice behind me asking me a question. It feels as if a warm cozy blanket was thrown over me. I turn around.

Then I see him.

I love his face, his hair, his clothes, his body, the way he standing, his smile, his voice. I love his voice. And I especially love his smile. He doesn't need to practice, it comes naturally. There is no pain inside him that he needs to overcome.

His smile makes me believe he's a keeper. He wasn't going to say he loved me until it was forever. And he had the potential to do it. I was sure of it.

I begin the dance.

With a smile.

My real smile.

I didn't have to work at it, it sprung from somewhere deep inside me. Something that has not happened in a long long time.