{Justin}
It's been three weeks.
Three fucking weeks since we decided to sneak around, and already I think I'm on the dangerous brink of reaching insanity. It's true. Unfortunately, I'm not lying here, and unfortunately, I'm not being overly dramatic either.
You see, in just three weeks' time, I've managed to completely go and fuck up my head. Wait, I take that back. What I meant to say was this--that in just three weeks' time, she's managed to go and completely fuck up my head.
I swear to you though....it's all her fault that this is happening to me.
It's all her fucking fault...
Tossing over for what seems to be the hundredth time tonight, I stare up at the ceiling with tired eyes. Have you ever been extremely exhausted and tried to go to bed, but no matter what, you just couldn’t turn your brain off? You know what I'm talking about...when you're so damn miserably tired, but even despite this, you just can't make yourself fall asleep? Yeah, well--that's exactly what's happening to me right now. That's how I feel; more than anything, I just want sleep to come to me right now, and it's just not fucking coming.
And you know what?
I'm telling you this again--it's all her damn fault.
I honestly don't know what's happening to me here. And I don't even know how to begin to explain it to you. All I know is that I can't stop thinking about her; no matter how hard I try, no matter what I do to forget about her, if even for just a while--it doesn't work.
I don't know what the hell Chloe Marin has done to me, but I don't like it--I don't like it at all. I want this problem go away. And I want it to go away quickly.
It all started off gradual, you know. In the beginning I was okay with everything, and then...once again, in just three weeks, it's seems as though I've suddenly lost my fuckin' mind. It's like now I'm obsessed with the girl or something. And even though I don't really know why I am feeling like this or why this is happening to me all of the sudden, I have a faint idea…
So you wanna know my thoughts or what? I know you do. Well, here goes, I'll tell you what I think:
I think Chloe Marin is evil. Yes, behind those sweet brown eyes, and that cute little smile of hers, lies a pure, unadulterated evil inside that girl. I also think, perhaps, she's maybe even a witch! Yes, a witch, and she's somehow put her spell on me. Or better yet....maybe she's cursed me. Yes, that's exactly it! She's cursed me---I just know it, because even though it sounds a bit crazy, it's the only logical explanation to any of this madness going on inside of me, right?
Now, before you go and start accusing me of being a psychopathic, overly-dramatic idiot, at least give me a chance to explain what's been going on lately, okay?
Okay. Well, last week is when it all started…
My problem wasn't huge at this point, but it was definitely starting to become apparent to me that in fact, I did have a problem...
You see, last week, I suddenly realized that something horribly, horribly wrong was going on inside of me. I mean, ever since Chris had that talk with me about how I treat women badly, I've pretty much been staying away from any contact (other than brief and distant) when it comes to the female race. (And God, you don't know how hard that was for me at first, but eventually I got okay with it.) And there was, of course, this one exception to my sudden avoidance of women: and her name was Chloe.
Now other than heavy making out though, my physical relationship with Chloe really hasn't progressed any further. Not because I don't want it to, but of course, because she won't let anything else happen. I mean, I'm talking no sex here at all people! Just plain, old-fashioned making-out sessions. (God damn her for having so much self-control.)
But anyway, you must understand something; when someone such as myself, who is used to having sex and getting way more sloppy than first base with a woman on a weekly basis is suddenly deprived…well, you can only imagine how tortured I was feeling inside when all Chloe and I were doing was kissing. I'm not saying that I didn't love the making-out with her, I'm just saying that like any other horny male might eventually do with lack of sex, I finally cracked one night.
So I guess that's when I found myself in Alex's room in this tortured tale I'm reliving with you. It was a Thursday night, and there I was, laying on her bed, kissing her neck, her shoulders... (And hey, before you even go and decide to hate on me and call me the scum of the earth, just try and remember---I was so, so horny when I decided to go and see Alex, that I truly wasn't even thinking clearly. I swear!)
Anyhow, enough of why I went to see her, because that's really not what matters here; what matters is what happened to me when I was finally about to get laid that night. Right…so there I was, messing around with Alex. We're all alone, and she was definitely all ready for me to fuck her--and suddenly, what happens?
I start to notice these things--these bad, bad things in my head. For instance, the way she was kissing me. It wasn't that she was a bad kisser or anything, but I just couldn’t shake these thoughts that I wish it was Chloe I was kissing instead of her, because Chloe....well kissing her was just so, so different. At that point, I knew I was just being stupid, and so I naturally tried to push the whole comparing her kissing to Chloe out of my head right away.
This worked for a while.
I even managed to get her topless without worrying about it anymore. But then, all at once, I made the stupidest, dumbest mistake of them all. And I hadn't even realized I was saying it until her name was softly rolling off my tongue…
Alex immediately pulled away from me, her face contorted in annoyance. "What did you just call me?" she had asked.
Shit. Right then, I knew I had blown my one and only chance of getting laid that night. I quickly began to lamely stutter above her, "I--I'm sorry--I didn't mean..."
All of a sudden, her care-free giggles were interrupting my shallow apologies, as I stared down at her with a perplexed look on my face. "What's so funny?"
She rolled her eyes, running her hand against my crotch area. "Don't worry about it, silly. You can call me Chloe....hell, call me Shaniqua for all I care, just as long as you fuck me while you're saying it."
Normally, I probably would have obliged her request. Normally, I would have nodded and proceeded to fuck the tramp's brains out before leaving quicker than she could utter, "wait, stay longer?" So please God, tell me why I found myself quickly jumping off her that night? Why I zipped my pants up and ditched that easy lay goodbye as fast as I could?
Well, I already know why. And I already told you why.
It's Chloe.
Don't you see now, how she's fucked me all up?
Three weeks later, and it's even worse than that night at Alex's. It's literally to the point now where I can't even stand to hang around with other girls, because either they aren't as smart as Chloe, aren't as sarcastic and witty as Chloe, aren't as funny as Chloe, aren't as sexy as Chloe--well, you get the fucking point, don't you?
I can't have Chloe, and it's literally killing me inside.
Especially right now, when I'm stuck sleepless in my dark room, knowing that she's fast asleep next door--and God damn my dick is aching for her like no other. God, all I'd have to do is get up and slip inside her room, and wake her up....but, yeah right. Like she'd ever let that happen. I have to admit that Chloe has surprised me in many ways when it comes to her sexuality, but she's still not going to surprise me that much. I think finding out that she wasn't a virgin threw me for a big enough loop already this week. I mean, I don't know why I always assumed she was some prude when we used to hate each other, but I guess I really didn't know her.....
But shit, sometimes when I'm with her, I just want so bad to lay her down and fuck her so good. It hurts to even think about while I'm this worked up, but I can't help myself. It's different, though, because Chloe is my only option now, she's the only woman I want at the moment. I didn't want Alex that night, obviously, and I realize now that no one else is going to do it for me until I have Chloe first. My mind has been made up--it's set on her, my roommate, sleeping right in the next fucking room...
Finally succumbing to my train of thoughts, and my want for her, I slowly let my hand creep into my pajama pants. Shit, this is horrible. There's only so many times a guy can whack off and still be satisfied, you know? I want the real fucking thing....and I don't how much longer I can wait for it. Closing my eyes, my hand goes to work while I try to come up with some more explanations for this madness...
I mean, I know she's just a bet--fucking her is just a bet I want to win, and that's mainly why I want her so bad--but I still just can't shake the feelings that there's more to it than that. That I'm letting myself become a little too consumed with the thought of having her.
But then I always start to think better of things; I start to rationalize the reasons why I want her so badly. I keep telling myself it is the bet. It's because I have to be so secretive with her, and I know I shouldn't be doing what I'm doing with her. It's just because she plays so hard to get. It's because her and I are not meant to be, and by us fucking, we would be defying all the rules. Or maybe it's just like I told you before--she's cursed me, she's put some sort of magical spell on me that makes her stay on my mind 24/7.
Basically, it's every other reason besides that fact that I genuinely care for her.
Because that's just not the case.
It's not.
My breath catches in my throat, and I can feel my body heating up with perspiration. Damn when did it get so hot in this room? I just want to sleep. I want a release...my hand quickens in speed....
"Fuck-shit," I mumble, picturing in my mind what it'd be like to inside of her...God, once I fuck her....once I win the bet....well, all these horrible and consuming thoughts of her are going to finally disappear from my head...I know it...I know it. They will have to. And then I'll be able to go back to being me, the normal Justin that enjoys a casual fuck, even if it's with some girl that is just a tad bit idiotic...
But then there's just this one last problem that I have with it all. (Well, besides the fact that I'm extremely horny and have no one to fuck at the moment. Nothing that my hand isn't fixing for me right now, though.)
So yeah....my other, more prominent problem...this nagging fear that keeps creeping into my head. These questions that keep resurfacing every time I try to assure myself that Chloe is just a bet, and I'll be done obsessing over her when I win the bet:
What if the exact opposite happens to me after we fuck? I mean, say Chloe and I do sleep together--and say my plan backfires on me--then what happens? What happens if I don't want to go back to the girls that are a tad bit idiotic after Chloe? What happens if sleeping with her turns out....well, not to be enough?
****
{Chloe}
"Oh fuck yes--stay right there," he moans, softly.
I smirk to myself, roughly kneading my hands into his back. I warned him before we started this that most people hated when I gave them massages because I was so rough when giving them. He said he could handle it though, and admittedly, he's proving me right so far. There's still been a few times where he's squirmed and whimpered beneath me, and I definitely haven't missed the way his body seems to resist my touch now and again, as he occasionally attempts to dip his weight further down into the mattress.
Anyway, Justin's head is lying above his crossed arms, as I sit on top of him, doing my nice deed for the day. And no, I haven't gone suddenly insane and fallen so madly in love with the boy that I would do anything for him, such as giving him this massage. (Rather, I'm just being nice because I felt sorry for him when he came home and complained about how bad his body ached from the rough time he'd had at the gym today.)
"Am I hurting you enough for you to want me to stop yet?" I question him brightly, rubbing his bare shoulders with my hands.
"Mmm---not yet," he pleads. "I don't want this--oooh---"
I hit a sore spot, I suppose.
"--this torture to stop quite yet."
"Mmkay," I respond, my hands complying with his requests. Justin's skin is smooth and silky, and I can feel some of the knots in his muscles slowly disappearing from my work. His breathing is just slightly abnormal as he continues to enjoy the massage. Suddenly, a thought comes to my head, as I briefly recall that we forgot to lock his bedroom door before we started this little session. Chris would just have a heart attack if he came home and accidentally witnessed the whole scene, but I'm just having way too much fun listening to Justin's pleased moans and groans to really care enough to actually get up and lock the door.
"Chloeeeeee," Justin's voice finally comes again.
"What?" I ask him.
"Go lower please."
Obediently, I slide my hands lower on his back. "There?"
"No...lower," he whispers, huskily.
I trace my finger down his spine, as I once again rest my hands lower than before. "Better?"
"Just...a little....lower...."
Abruptly, I realize where he's going with this. I fight to stop myself from smiling at his obnoxiousness. "Oh," I say, emphatically. "You mean...right here?" I add, quickly slapping my palm against his pathetically small ass as hard as possible.
Justin's body immediately jumps, as he yelps at the harsh contact my hand just had on his skin. "Oww, woman! That fuckin' hurt!"
I laugh at his remark. Just as I'm about to tell him, "you get what you deserve," the ringing of my cell phone interrupts our conversation. I instantly crawl off of him, reaching for my phone which is lying on his nightstand. I glance at the caller ID and see that it's Elise. Making better of the situation, I decide that I should probably take this phone call somewhere else.
"I'll be right back," I mumble, hastily walking over to his door and shutting it behind me. "Hello?" I answer.
"Girl, you won't believe who I just spoke with."
"Um, who?" I ask quietly, slowly stepping inside of my own room. I hope Justin doesn't get up and follow me…
"Your secret admirer, of course! Well, he's not so secret, I suppose, but who cares anyways?"
I scrunch my nose up at her rambles. "What are you talking about Elise?" I ask, confused.
"Alex, duh!" she quickly explains, as if I'm an idiot for not realizing. "Remember the guy from last week, the one who just told me you never even called him back?" she squeals.
"Oh, yeah. Him."
"Chloe! I can't believe you didn't call him. Lucky for you, I just ran into him on campus--and I told him we'd meet up with him in like thirty minutes for lunch!"
"Elise!" I exclaim, annoyed. "Why?! I'm busy right now..."
"But you don't have work today," she pouts. "Please Chloe! C'mon! He's bringing his hot friend, too!"
I groan, looking over at the wall that separates mine and Justin's room. I guess I can go. I'll just have to tell him that something has come up, and I'll be back later. I doubt he'll care that much, anyway, right?
"Fine, but only for a little while. I have a lot of stuff to do today."
****
{Chloe}
As I am leaning down over the kitchen table and printing out a list off my lap top, I quickly glance behind my shoulder when I feel a presence. I notice Justin has stepped into the room and is raising his eyebrows at my computer screen. "What's that?" he asks me.
"A list of chores," I smirk, grabbing the paper from the printer and teasingly waving it in front of his face. "And I kindly cooked you, Chris, and your friend pancakes this morning for breakfast, so I don't even wanna hear it from you guys when you see this."
I notice Justin lick his lips before I happily begin to walk past him. I'm on my way towards the living room where Chris and Trace are playing their video games when I suddenly feel his arms wrap around me from behind, stopping my current movement. His hands rub up and down my arms, as he leans down and places a few soft kisses to my neck.
"Mmm--you're so beautiful," he whispers in my ear.
Despite myself, I melt at his words, at his touch. "Justin...we shouldn't..."
"Chloe..." I feel his tongue lap at my skin, then his cool breath blowing over it. "We should," he disagrees.
My eyes close, as my traitorous body goes lax against his own. His hands have now reached dangerous territory, as they are now gently grazing over my tank top covered breasts. My breath catches in my throat, as he suddenly brings his hands down and under my top, snaking his way towards where my bra clasp...
"Whoa, sorry!" Trace blurts out uncomfortably, as he suddenly appears through the kitchen doorway.
Our sensual moment has been completely shattered by his disturbance. I embarrassingly pull away from Justin, crossing my arms over my chest. "Err..."
"I was just gonna--uhh--get some milk, but uh---yeah---" he stutters, nervously.
Trace quickly turns to leave, and I'm extremely thankful when he's finally out of the kitchen again. My gaze falls upon Justin, and he winces when my frustrated eyes meet his own. "Shit Justin!"
"I didn't know he was gonna--"
"Well fuck, now what are we gonna do? We're lucky that wasn't Chris," I say, exasperated.
Justin takes a deep breath before speaking calmly. "Listen, Trace isn't gonna say anything. Don't worry about it cupcake," he assures quietly. Grabbing my chin and placing a soft peck on my lips, he pulls away and adds, "Come on, come show me and Chris the list, and we'll start cleaning."
I frown at him, but obey his requests anyway.
And I grin as we both walk into the living room, keeping our distance, pretending as though nothing just happened between the two of us.
****
{Justin}
"You lucky motherfucker."
I glance over at Trace as he follows me towards my bedroom. I'm about to grab some laundry and start on this whole cleaning thing. "What?" I whisper.
"How the fuck are you doing it?" he contemplates, disbelievingly. "I swear to God, I thought you were gonna lose this bet--"
"Shut the fuck up, dude," I say, shoving him inside my room and shutting the door behind us. "Don't talk about that shit when people can hear," I hiss.
"Sorry man! Calm down."
"I'm calm. I just can't have that shit coming out, though."
Trace raises an eyebrow. "Why not?"
My eyes roll in my head as I throw my hands up. "Fuck, Trace, do you know that Chris would beat my ass if he knew about that shit?! Jesus Christ!" I say.
"Are you sure that's the only reason you're getting so defensive?" he counters.
I can't believe him. He's acting stupid. "Stop fuckin' around with me man, of course that's it!"
Trace shrugs. Ignoring the situation altogether, I hastily begin picking up some of my dirty clothes off the floor.
I listen as he finally changes the subject, "Well man, I think I'm gonna roll out. Much as I'd love to stick around and help you clean," he starts, snickering at the idea of that being true. "Well, anyways...what time are we going out tonight? There's gonna be a sick party at the---"
"I can't tonight," I interrupt, quietly, throwing my clothes into a laundry basket.
"What are you talking about?"
"I already have plans with Chloe," I mumble, avoiding eye contact with him. I just know he's gonna start in on some shit now, and I honestly don't wanna hear it from him.
"You're fuckin' kiddin' me, right?" he asks me.
"No..."
He chuckles and asks sarcastically, "So what are you two love-birds doing tonight?"
I can feel my face grow hot. I don't want to say it. I don't want to say it. God, I hate Trace sometimes. I mean he's my best friend and all, sure, but why does he have to be so God-dammed nosy? And why did he have to walk in on me and Chloe right when I was finally getting to feel her fucking tits for once in my life? Bastard...
"Um....to play bingo," I cough, ambiguously.
"To do what?" he pries again.
"To play bingo!" I say, loudly this time.
It's only a matter of seconds before Trace is hunched over on my bed, laughing and snorting uncontrollably. Really, it isn't all that fucking funny in my opinion. I wait a few minutes before I say, "Dude, shut the fuck up already. It’s not that funny."
Trace wipes a tear from his eye and looks at me. "Damn, Justin. I think you're taking this bet just a tad bit too far here, don't you buddy? I mean, bingo--that's where I'd draw the fucking line," he comments, at last.
"Look, it's not a big fuckin' deal," I snap. "Bingo isn't that bad."
"Damn, J!" Trace exclaims again, even more so amused. "Nevermind all that bet nonsense...I mean, can we say pussy whipped?”
"Fuck you."
"Shit, you are, aren't you?" he claims, staring at me like I've grown another head.
"Stop talking shit, Trace. You know she's just a fucking bet," I dismiss his words, quite annoyed with the nerve he has to be saying all this. He needs to go away; I’m not in the mood. "And I'm trying to clean here, so I'll call you later,” I say, hoping he’ll take the hint.
Trace nods. "Fine.”
He gets up to leave, and just as he's walking out the door, he adds, "Have fun with the whole bingo thing. And just so you know, you may as well not try and deny it—‘cause it's completely obvious that you're sprung off her."
He grins and waves his hand, closing the door before I can even argue.
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