“Would you like anything more, Matthew?” Allison asked with a devouring smile. It unnerved me in all of the good ways a beautiful woman with a devouring smile can unnerve an otherwise committed man.

“No, I am quite sated, thank you. The meal was absolutely amazing.” I was being quite sincere. It quite possibly was the best meal I’ve ever had. “Compliments to the chef.” I eyed both Allison and Rick in turn, not certain which one prepared it. I liked to believe I was pretty good in the kitchen, but this meal made anything I made look like I plopped it out of a can and nuked it for five minute on high.

“Allison deserves all of the credit,” Rick responded, a wolfish smile that reeked with pride, “her food craft being one of her Many talents.”

Allison’s face mocked a blush, for she was not a woman that seemed easily embarrassed by praise. She gave her husband a smile then turned it back toward me, and her smile hungered again, “It is a same Jennifer couldn’t join us. I really hope whatever ills her doesn’t linger too long. And Matthew, please tell me you left room for dessert?”

“I suppose I have a little room left after all,” I said earnestly. I did want to get back to Jenny to make my report, but one is a fool to pass on a dessert after the best meal of his life.

“So Matthew,” Rick smiled the words, “we’ll let Allison get that ready for us while I go prepare some drinks. You have a particular poison or can you indulge me to pick something that might complement Allison’s skills.” The way Rick ended that sentence bothered me, as if there was a joke behind it.

“Feel free, I am willing to try something new.”

“Great! You will not be disappointed. So Allison says you are a hunter too…”

~~~

“You are what!? Are you out of your mind?” Jenny nearly screamed, and honestly acting a tad bit unhinged.

“Yes, the invited me to go hunting with them and I said sure.”

“You were supposed to have dinner with them to see just how odd they are, not to become friendly with them.”

“Hun, I’ll admit, they do have an air of slight superiority because good fortune seems to fall into their laps, but they were friendly enough.”

“Didn’t it feel fake? Christ! That woman calls me Jennifer! I hate being called Jennifer.”

I look at my Jenny like she just slurped down a Dr. Hyde slurpee from 7-11. She was never like this.

“Actually, it didn’t feel fake hun. I just think they are actually a couple that is use to life being a certain way and they try to perhaps overcompensate because they haven’t hit the normal rough patches the rest of us mere mortals face on a weekly basis.”

“What about the way she looks at you? Don’t you DARE tell me I am imagining that!”

I looked at her, knowing I was on unstable ice and was probably going to fall in no matter what I said, “I have to admit, she looks at me in almost too friendly of a way.”

“And you are ok with that?”

There was no safe answer. I didn’t think there was a more-safe-than-others answer, “Honestly, it is a little flattering, but it is not like you have never oogled a man before while I was standing right there.”

“Fair enough, but did you ‘oogle’ her back?” Her look could have cut through Ginzu knives.

“Dammit Jenny! I didn’t even want to go over there! This was all you? Do you want me to tell you I think Allison is an ugly hag? It would be a lie. She is fucking, drop-dead-in-the-truest-sense-of-the-term gorgeous! You happy? But, she is not you. So enough!”

Jenny took a deep breath and then exhaled. I didn’t know if she was pissed or sad or what at this point.

“There is something not right about them. Rachel sees it too. It is not just in our heads, Matt. This whole neighborhood has gotten weird ever since Rick and Allison showed up. Friends moving, friends changing, some struck with crazy good luck while other seem to tumble into impossibly bad luck. I don’t like them and I really don’t like the idea of you going hunting with them.”

Jenny looked worn out. “Hun, then again, why the hell did you make me have dinner alone with them in the first place? You no I am nice to a fault and will never decline a friendly invite to anything if I don’t have a good enough excuse to do so.”

“Honestly, I almost wish I didn’t now. But, I really thought once you did, you would see it to. Whatever ‘it’ is.”

~~~

“So, do you have a favorite hunt, Matthew?”

Their truck went down the ungroomed dirt road as if it was driving on glass. The suspension on this beast probably cost more than my jeep alone. Allison was sandwiched between Rick and myself. She rested a hand lazily on my thigh. All of my subtle attempts to get it off just eventually found it back on my lap a short while later, and my imagination (or Jenny’s implanted mania about Allison) seemed to believe that Allison’s hand always landed a bit higher each time.

“Um...it would have to be my first. My father and grandfather let me take down an elk and I can still feel the pride they had when I shot it.”

“No offense Matthew,” Rick said with his wolfish smile, “but your first time should never be your best time. We will have to rectify that, won’t we dear.”

“Oh, most definitely,” replied Allison. Her voice dripped honey, and I swear on everything holy that all of her body heat was suddenly displaced to her hand. There was no subtle way to remove it now. Yet, my tongue caught when I attempted to ask her to remove it from its resting place on my leg. This might possibly be the longest weekend of my life.

“Almost home!” stated Rick.

Their ‘hunting lodge’ made the house they had in our neighborhood look like the cardboard box I threw away after Jenny and I bought a new dishwasher. Rick and Allison had the nicest house in the neighborhood.

Allison smiled, squeezed my leg, and replied, “Yes, almost home.”

~~~

Once we I was settled, I stepped outside in the back and took in the view. Most would kill just to see a view like this in a postcard. Snow-peaked mountains in the background, trees seemingly as far as the eye could see, the tree line only scarred where the river must have flowed through.

The air was rich and sweet, and after each breath, I yearned for another, as one yearns for another sip of an amazing drink, or another bite of a perfect fruit.

The scene helped to calm me. There was an over-friendliness from Allison that I did not enjoy, and Rick either was oblivious, or in on the act. Being out here put me a bit at ease.

Rick appeared out of nowhere and slapped my back, “So, you ready to hunt, Matthew? Allison is waiting for us down below.

We walked down the stairs carved into the hill until we got to a large shed.

“So, Matthew? Would you like to take a look at the game we will be hunting today?” Rick laughed and whistled. The shed door opened and out stumbled Jenny’s and my friend, Rachel. Eyes wild with fear, hours past shedding tears, wearing nothing but a gag and perhaps the most expensive form-fitting red lace underwear I have ever seen.

“What the He…”

Before I could get the last word out, Rick cold-cocked me in the jaw, sending me to the ground. He then kicked me hard in the gut, knocking the wind out of me. I looked at Rachel with confusion and an apology in my eyes. I watched Rick cut the gag from Rachel and slap her on her backside, “Run along little bunny. Run as fast as you can!”

Rachel ran, the rest of the way down the hill as fast as I have seen a person filled with utter fear run. She disappeared into the trees.

“Sorry for hitting you Matthew...”

“I am not playing whatever game you and Allison are playing, Rick!”

“Suit yourself, Matthew, but you might want to hear it all out before you confirm that decision. Now, as I was saying, before you interrupted. Sorry I hit you, but getting the vibe of the nice and noble guy we think you are, consider it a preemptive hit. I was certain if I didn’t, you would have clocked me a few seconds later. Am I right?”

I just nodded, chomping on rocks that were not there as to try to channel my anger.

“As I thought. So here is the deal. Rachel was starting to get a bit too nosy in our lives and seemed to be on the verge of causing us...shall we say, unwanted headaches. Unfortunately for you - who contrary to what you might believe, Allison and I are quite fond of you - we discovered in our interrogation of Ms. Rachel, that she has a bit of a thing for you. I personally don’t get it, but Allison seems to. Who the fuck knows what goes on in women’s minds, right Matthew? Anyway, Rachel secretly being hot to trot for you indirectly got you involved, see?”

At that moment, Allison stepped out of the shed. She was clad foot to toe in camo, somehow still looking sexy as hell, she had a ravenous look in her eyes. She held up her mobile for me to see. There was video of Jenny, tied up in our bedroom.

“See, my friend? Jenny was getting a bit nosy too. I cannot help but to think what she may have already told you. But, like I said before, Allison and I are fond of you and want to give you at least a chance to control your destiny somewhat.

“You can calm down and listen to our offer, or you can leave right now. If you leave, I can guarantee you will never see Jenny, Rachel, or us ever again. Some might say that might be the wisest course, because all four of us are trouble, albeit different sorts. Do you want to leave now, Matthew? Here are the keys to my truck if you do?”

I look up at this sociopath, and didn’t say a word, I just glared. I felt the trap closing tighter, I might as well know the full shape of it.

“I’ll take your silence as a no. So the hunt then. Rules are simple, you shoot Rachel before us, she is your prize, to do with what you will. You can go home, Jenny will be waiting, unharmed and we will disappear from everyone’s lives. And before you get all weird about shooting your friend, it will be with a tranquilizer dart only. The harm will be minimal. But, you do have to tag her, just catching her is not enough.

“If Allison tags her, she is willing to ransom her and Jenny off, sweetheart that she is. If I shoot her though, you will never see her again. At that point, we will discuss terms of possibly freeing Jenny, assuming we have your word she will play along with all of this. Sound like a deal?”

I stared at him simply and replied, “Do I have a choice?”

“You have choices my friend, they all suck though.” They both laughed. Allison then took off down the hill and into the forest. After about five minutes, Rick simply said, “Your turn, Matthew. I do wish you the best of luck. I almost wish you took my keys, you probably would have been better off.”

I raced down the hill with the gun he tossed me, hoping it actually was loaded, and prayed to any god that was listening for a way to win game that was heavily stacked against me.

~~~

I tried to move as quickly as I could through the forest, scanning the trail of broken branches and displaced ground. I had stumbled upon Allison first and found out shooting her, that my gun indeed shot darts, and they did indeed knock a person out. Before she drifted into sweet oblivion, Allison smiled sweetly up to me and said, “Well done, Matthew. I didn’t think you had it in you, but I am glad you tagged me as well, you will be reward if you can still win...”

I didn’t recall any rules that said I couldn’t take them out too, but I knew I gambled by doing it. Not sure if whatever drug-induced craziness Allison stated made me feel better or worse. I just couldn’t afford Allison reaching Rachel first. I had to get to Rachel then try to come up with a plan out of it, without getting all of us killed. My stomach twisted thinking about Jenny. She was completely out of my control right now.

I heard Rachel stumbling through the woods first. I knew it was her because I saw flashes of red from the few garments she was wearing. I tried to call to her to stop, but she kept running. I called to her again, she cried in return, “They told me if you wanted to ever see Jenny alive, you would have to kill me Matt!”

“Dammit Rachel! I would never kill, just to save someone else, regardless who it is. I would never be able to live with that. We are hunting with tranquilizer rifles regardless. I was only told if I shoot you first, I win and we can all go free, not that I fully trust that. Just stop and come out before Rick catches up to us. Lets talk it out to see if we have any other options.”

Rachel stopped and turned around. She ran into my arms and wept, turning into a dead weight.

“Oh Matt…”

“It is ok Rachel, let’s just figure out…”

“...I am so sorry.”

With that, I felt a jab in my arm, sticking into it, was a tranquilizer dart. I looked into Rachel’s eyes, and she smiled, even more hungrily than Allison ever had.

~~~

My head was throbbing, I woke in the most comfortable bed I have ever been in, naked as the day I was born, arms loosely bound to the bed posts. Allison, Rick, and Rachel all sitting in winged chairs like a king and queens on thrones.

“He wakes!” Rick jested, as if it were a clever joke, “You are a damned good sport, that is for sure. You made me lose a heavy bet with Allison though. She thought you would shoot her if you caught up to her. I didn’t think you had it in you, just as I was sure you would not shoot Rachel in the end as well.”

I look at Rachel with fury, “You were in on it.”

Allison interjected, voice honeysuckle sweet now, “Matthew, my dear. This was Rachel’s first wish.”

I looked at Allison, as if I didn’t hear her correctly, I thought about what Rick said before about Rachel having a secret thing for me.

Allison continued, in a far away voice, “I wish for Matthew to rescue me. That was Rachel’s first wish, so all of this is how Rick granted it for her.”

Rick cut in before I could respond, “Matthew, Allison and I are Djinns, or in your barbaric language, Genies. And Rachel earned wishes from each of us. Many in your neighborhood did, how did you think fortunes fell and tumbled so drastically since we arrived?”

I thought about what Jenny said. Jenny! As if reading my thoughts, Allison quipped, “Jennifer is fine, for the most part, with one slight change. Rachel’s second wish was for her best friend to forget all memories of you.”

It sounded crazy, but my soul was trying to catch my mind up to everything. My soul knew this was true, crazy as it seemed. They thought of Jenny not having any memories of me, hurt more than I dared to imagine.

“What happens now, I asked? Does Rachel wish for me to fall madly in love with her or something?”

“No, dear Matthew, that is one wish even we cannot grant. We cannot wish someone to love. Love is a more powerful force.”

“So what is her last wish?”

“Here last? My dear, she has 3 wishes from each of us. She bought and paid for them. She still has 4 more.”

Rachel smiled, a crazy look in her eyes. Gluttoned on the power perhaps. “I wish for any secret lust that Matt has ever had for me to come to the surface and always simmer there. I might not ever have his love, but I can enjoy perhaps his lust even if just from afar.”

“Granted”

And, at that moment, I knew this nightmare was something real. All of the secret fantasies that I even had of Rachel came to the surface of my mind. Sharp and clear. I couldn’t look at her now without getting deeply aroused. Yet I HAD to look at her because who wouldn’t want to feel that level of desire for someone. The fantasies that they were, even though they were few, felt like real memories instead. All of them started to hum as better memories than any of my previous lovers. It sickened me. It excited me. I felt damned to my own mind. Perhaps I was. The more I tried to think of other lovers, other times, the Rachel fantasies would bleed into them. To the point that any memory I had of sex, somehow had Rachel in it too. Even my sexual fantasies that didn’t tie to anyone real at all became corrupted with Rachel in them. Sweet, wanton Rachel.

I looked at her, I wanted her more than I wanted anything. I hated her but that seemed to fuel the lust. I barely had any control. The only reason I did have a bit of control was that I wasn’t a mindless animal. Yet, the animal was yearning to break free and rut with the only woman that mattered for such things now.

Rachel watched me ravenously. “I wish to have all of his lustful thoughts for me as my own as well.”

“Granted”

Rachel convulsed with the onslaught of them. Her cries of ecstasy only stirred my feelings for her further. It was a trap I could have never imagined. It was a feedback loop that might drown us both.

Eventually an equilibrium was found. We were both panting. Rachel eyed me like a wolf. “Matthew, you naughty, wonderful thing. Your secrets are safe with me. I will even indulge in most of them with you one day, if you ever grow to forgive me for all of this.”

“Why?” was all I could croak out.

“Because, you were too good for her and...I was tired of being alone. I wanted someone nice, even if only like this.”

She almost wept. Almost.

“I wish for him to forget about Jenny, because I don’t want him to have that pain of losing her any more.”

“Granted”

And Jenny bled from my memories. I tried to hold onto them, I didn’t want to lose them. I wanted to hold onto the pain, if it was all I could have left of her.

I was trying to remember someone. Someone special. I was trying to remember something. I was trying to remember. Did I lose something. It felt like I lost something. I had this feeling in the back of my head. Then it was gone. I was looking at them like I was a bit lost. I still remember the hunt. I still had anger, but it didn’t make any sense. Like their were missing pieces.

Rachel spoke, a wicked smile on her face, “Finally, I wish Matthew forgot all about the hunt, that this was all just a get away with the closest of friends instead.”

“Granted”

The memories of this day unraveled, the force of it knocked me out.

~~~

I woke with in a start, as if waking from a bad nightmare. Rachel was curled up against me, God but I wanted her.

I noticed our friends Rick and Allison sitting in winged chairs watching us. I blush in embarrassment. I have a fresh memory of sleeping with Rachel and Allison, but I am almost certain it was just a fantasy, almost.

Rachel snuggled deeper into me, and purred. I wished we were alone. “Matty, don’t you remember, Rick and Allison just revealed to you that they are Genies, and that you won 3 wishes from Allison by capturing her?”

The memory of capturing her is suddenly sharp and fresh.

“So, what are you going to wish for love?”

I looked at my lover Rachel, and wondered if I did indeed love her. She was always sweet to me. She was crazy good in the sack. I wondered why I didn’t feel like I loved her fully though. It felt strange to feel that bit of disconnect.

“Yes, Matthew, what do you wish from me?” Allison just purred.

“Well, are there any rules?”

Allison started to recite the few rules there were and I smiled as wishes started forming in my mind.

"I'd love to stay with you but my life unfortunately is just about to end and I have some loose ends to tie up!"

Bridget looked at him and chuckled as if he were making a joke. Here was this wonderful man, that she had way too quickly fallen in love with.

"Paul, stop kidding around."

"I am afraid, I am not kidding, love. I was just told, by something that I trust is serious about its message."

Bridget looked into her love's eyes and suddenly knew he was not kidding. His look was missing his mirth when he was kidding. It was his serious face. It had a peace to it, but a regret as well.

Paul reached over and squeezed her hand tenderly, she loved his touch, even now, it grounded her. "I am so sorry Bridget. I had such dreams for us. I already had a ring for you, the only reason it is not on your finger I wanted to perfect the engagement. I wanted to be your husband. I hoped that once we were married, you would have found waiting for me was worth it. I wanted to grow old with you."

Bridget hated her sudden tears. Damn him but he really believed he was about to die. She had a chill, and suddenly know he would too.

"How much time do you have?"

"I will be dead within the day. Maybe hours, maybe more. No less than that. I am sorry. I have to go, I need to say some good-byes."

"I am going with you."

"No..."

"Shut up, Paul. This is non-negotiable."

Bridget tossed too much money on the table for their meal and they left in a blur, hand-in-hand still.

~~~

She fucked him in the car. It was not the way she ever imagined losing her virginity, but it ended up being the perfect way. It mixed her secret lusts with her deeper loves. Bridget hoped there would be time again.

Bridget whispered into Paul's ear, "I know a judge that will marry us in a heartbeat. I will have your name too, before you leave me. I love you, Paul, more than life itself."

"I love you too. I wish we had more time, I truly do."

"Love, for all the time we have had, you gave me your everything, even now. I will take all I can and I will mourn you after."

They were married thirty minutes later. They both cried.

On the way home, Bridget drove while he recorded all his goodbyes into his phone. Bridget would play them to his family and friends after.

They made love once more at home.

After they put on their favorite movie and watched it one more time, snuggled together, flesh a blur. Bridget fell asleep.

When she woke, Paul was gone.

She wept.

Bridget listened to his goodbyes once more, just to hear his sweet voice. The last one was left to his wife, her. It was perfect.

John did not know what the hell he was doing here; or perhaps he knew all too well. He sat as he watched the woman fix him a drink at the bar. The woman, a mere stranger an hour ago, flashed him a perfect teeth smile. A perfect smile, yet he could not overlook that her nose and teeth were not aligned. It didn’t matter, somehow this woman made him more horny than he has been in years and harder than he ever remembered being as a teen.

She strolled over to him, her natural gait both predatory and sexual. She handed him the tumbler and flashed her smile, “Here dear. Your poison with one less rock, but I assure you, the bourbon is of finer stuff than that swill you were drowning yourself in back at the bar.”

Her name was Joy, or that was at least what she told him it was. John felt that it was a lie or at the very least a feint. He was still puzzling how she stirred this level of lust within him. He has been around women that have been more attractive, he had passes made toward him by women that were willing to be mistresses, yet he passed each and every time. Why stray now? Why her?

Joy sat across from him, legs spread. John’s eyes stayed on hers though, even as his mind played out how if she lifted her legs just a few inches more, he would be able to gleam the type of panties she was wearing, or if she was wearing any at all. He was surprised by how turned on he was just to uncover that simple mystery. When was the last time he cared what his wife wore underneath her clothes. He figured that sort of sexual tease died in him a long time ago. Why did he stir to know what Joy had under her dress?

“John, do women in general get soaked under your gaze, or is it just me?”

Joy’s comment caught him off guard. “Excuse me?”

Joy laughed easily, it tasted of honey and sex, “Your eyes. Your penetrating stare. Within ten minutes talking to you in the bar, my thighs were soaked, just from you looking at me with those gorgeous eyes. I cannot recall the last time someone could fuck me with just their eyes. It is a rare and wonderful thing.”

John dusted off all of his memories of his old lovers. None reminding him of his eyes playing an overly important part of their couplings. He thought of all of the times making love to his wife, when they still made love. He thought of all of the times when they just fucked, then the times when they just fucked around, never a mention of his eyes doing anything to stir her. For a moment, it seemed like something was missed. Was he looking at Joy in a different way? He didn’t think so. “I’m afraid that has never happened,” John replied a bit chagrined, “or somehow I was never aware of their effect.”

Joy laughed in disbelief. “Well, go ahead, sit there, sip on the whiskey, and please keep fucking me with those fucking, gorgeous eyes.” With that, she reached down and in a single, fluid flourish, she pulled off her dress. All she was left in were her heels, her perfume, and her smile. No panties to removed. Her thighs did seem to glisten.

John felt his heart pounding in his ears. Felt his cock trying to pound free from his pants, twitching in a way as if reaching for her. Felt the memory of his wife and felt his guilt for being here melt away. All of their years of blissful matrimony, followed by all of the years of painful matrimony, followed by all of the years of indifference and reflex mechanics of marriage, melted away. If Harriet ever found out about this, she would probably barely care, or so he tried to tell himself. All that was left of the passion in their love was embers, if that. No, an ember, that John finally grew too tired of trying to shelter so it didn’t die.

John watched Joy’s fingers explore all of the parts of her he wanted to explore. Her mouth, her shoulders, her breasts, her thighs. He watched her tremble, as if somehow his eyes were groping her, fondling her, were indeed fucking her.

She gasp before her fingers entered her sex. Her wetness was audible. John growled at the thought of a woman being that wet for him, and he hadn’t even done anything yet watched her. He took a sip of the whiskey and Joy whimpered. She was right, it was good poison, but his hunger now was the poison between her legs.

“Tell me,” she panted, “what you want…”

John could barely hear her request over the pounding rush of blood ringing in his ears. It was almost an anger that he had never felt such lust before. So much wasted time. “I thought you said you wanted my eyes to fuck you? Haven’t they made it…”

Joy let out a high pitched sound. It wasn’t a moan, it wasn’t a scream per se, but the sudden tremor of her thighs mixed with flow of sweet fluid pour over her fingers from her sex told John all he needed to know. He tried to take a sip but all that was left in the glass was the water from the ice. He set the glass down ready to get up as he watch her prop herself up, dangling wet fingers as evidence of his crime.

“Well, what I want,” Joy mummered in wanton tones, “is for you to show me if more than just your eyes want to fuck me.”

John stood, undid his belt and fairly slowly pulled down his pants. He let out a sigh being free from their constraints, feeling the cool air engulf his hot, engorged cock as it sprung free. Joy took a few steps toward him and pushed him lightly, a lead to fall back into the chair. Her eyes were all lust and hunger and wantonness. For the first time, he felt like he was being fucked by a lover’s eyes. He would never forget the moment.

“Stroke it,” she whispered, as she fed him her fingers.

His hand followed her command, slowly stroking his cock as he always stroked and John moaned in a way he never did when he masturbated alone. He moaned because he couldn’t remember the last time touching himself ever felt this fucking good. He moaned because he couldn’t remember how sweet a woman could taste. Harriet was always uncomfortable being tasted.

Joy moaned and pulled her fingers free and laughed, “I believe I am more of a glutton than you.” She kneeled down, making damn sure her breasts pressed against John’s legs, making damn sure he felt how soft they were. She pulled his hand away from his cock and replaced it with her own. They moaned together when she brought her lips around his head. She sucked and stroked him in want over obligation. She feasted on him as if he was doing her a favor by letting her. Her lust poured over her lips, until she was overwhelmed with it.

Joy broke away from her sucking and awkwardly climbed into John’s lap, slapping her sex against his; kissing him hard and deep. Before John had a chance to gain another breath, Joy worked his cock into her. They fucked with everything they had. Their cock and cunt, their hands, their eyes, their lips, their moans. John didn’t know where the orgasms started and ended. For the first time for as long as he could remember, he couldn’t tell where he ended and his lover began.

When it all subsided, Joy kissed him softly, yet even deeper. When she finally broke it, she looked deep in his eyes, “I hope you don’t need to leave soon. I want to know how tenderly your touch can be, even if your eyes cannot stop fucking me.” Joy got up and walked back over to the bed, fell on it, turned and waited to see if John would join her. Joy cooed at the first of his tender caresses once he did join her and smiled.

~~~

John watch Joy slip her dress back on as easily as slipping on a second skin. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, John. I wish we could do this again.”

John was still drunk on the magical, lust-filled night, “So I assume this was a one time thing, then?”

“I’ve only had my heart broken once. I how found flash fires of sex preferable to the complications of love. I will admit though, I will miss how well you fuck with those lovely eyes of yours. I still don’t believe you that no one else has ever mentioned it.”

“Nope, before you, I am not sure I was ever aware that such a thing was possible, especially by me.”

Joy smiled, stepped closer, caressed John’s cheek, and gave him a final kiss. “I am positive I will never forget them. Your eyes fucking me will haunt me ’til I’m old and grey.”

With that, she left him alone, with a new found arousal, but nowhere to direct it.

~~~

John looked in his glass of bourbon, swirling it slowly, feeling frustrated and empty and alone. He didn’t want to go home yet, there was nothing waiting for him there but silence or empty conversation. John had half hoped that he could find some way to bring some life back to his marriage with Harriet after his tryst with Joy. There were a few moments where they almost found something lost, but too soon they fell back to old routines. Joy was true to her word, he had never come across her again. Never at this bar, where she first introduced herself after catching him take her in. He thought it was just a glance, “With eyes like yours, you can fuck a lady like me with just a glance.”

He remembered her whisper that to him, while they were in between sessions on that hotel bed oh so long ago. He ordered another drink. It had been about a year, it could not have been already two. He let his eyes wander. He suddenly wanting to feel...something again. They fell on the various women drinking their sorrows away, or drinking to amplify the joys of their moment. His eyes didn’t feel like they were doing anything though.

The door to the bar opened and he watched a couple of women walk in, joined at the hips and their shared kiss. When they broke their kiss, the pair showered the bar with their joyful laughter. One of the women was his wife, Harriet, the other, he had never seen. His heart caught in shock and surprise. John’s mind replayed the last few decades of his life with this now stranger. How did he miss this? When did it start?

There was a fluid of emotions rushing through him. Harriet seemed so...happy. When was the last time she seemed that happy with him? He felt a pang of guilt. How much of that was his fault? Neither of them ever recovered from being childless. They both wanted a family so bad. When they ran out of options to have their own biological child, he could never convince her to adopt. He could never get her past feeling broken. She closed him out.

John turned into the dutiful husband. Tried to be supportive. Tried to understand her pain. Tried to reach her. The chasm slowly grew though, whether they wanted it to or not. How many years have gone by since they’ve truly shared happiness. When was the last time they shared some of the ‘for better’ and ‘in health’ over the ‘for worse’ and ‘in sickness’.

John looked down at his empty glass, he didn’t dare to have another one here. He watched his wife and her lover until he was sure they didn’t see him. He thought it was a kindness to let Harriet have her happy moment and not confront them here. A part of him envied and wished he still had the means to give her that raw joy she showered the bar with. He almost forgot just how lovely she was when she was happy and reachable. He almost remember what made him fall in love with her so long ago in the first place. He paid his tab and slipped out of the back door. More lost than he had felt for a long time and he has felt lost and alone for far too long.

~~~

John sat in the kitchen, nursing a drink, wondering if the pair would come back here. He wasn’t suppose to be home for another couple of days. The meeting in Atlanta was such a failure that it ended prematurely. He almost went to a hotel instead, but in between the bar and where to go, he thought home was the best choice. Either she wouldn’t come home tonight and have one last night of believing she had a secret or she would come home and they would face it together. Suddenly knowing a hard end was coming was not comforting. Funny that he should dread this, even though their marriage has been on life support for years. John heard the garage open and felt the lump in his throat grow. He suddenly wish he did go to a hotel. He was not ready for this. Not ready for the end. Not ready for letting that final ember he has painfully kept burning alive to finally be extinguished. Yet he knew it was over. Forcing the marriage forward would truly be a lie now. Perhaps it has been all these years anyway.

Harriet was standing in the doorway. Even though there was a look of worry and guilt on her face, he could still see the happiness from earlier radiate from her. It crushed him that just seeing him erased that joy and replaced it with worry and guilt.

“John, why are you home? I thought you were gone until Sunday.” John swallowed down the bile rising in his throat as he took in not her words, but the tone. A mix of shame and concern and even a bit of anger. It crushed him, and he wasn’t sure quite why.

“The meeting was an absolute failure,” John said, it came out as almost a laugh, “and yet in hindsight it perhaps was the better part of the week.”

“I am sorry John...do you need to talk about it?”

John took a breath and cut to what the conversation needed to be about, “I saw you tonight Harr, at the bar. I was there when you entered.”

“Oh…” the sound came out so small, soft, meek, and ashamed.

“How long, Harriet?”

“With her?”

“With anyone,” John tried to sound calm.

“Too long,” she whispered, tears welling up, “but with Jill,” she said the name as if forced to, “nearing four years.”

Four years with such a secret. How did he miss this? John thought to himself, only to follow it by perhaps just not wanting to see.

“I am sorry, Harr,” John replied, with a sorrow too deep to understand, “sorry that you had to try to keep such a secret from me. Sorry for whatever went wrong with us.”

She was crying true now, but they were tears of guilt and shame, she mistook his words.

“Harriet, I am not mad. A bit surprised, more than a bit sad, but it is a sadness that I think we both have suffered for too long.”

“But, I cheated…”

John, held up a hand, “I am no saint. I did too.”

Harriet looked surprised and suddenly hurt, “Really?”

“It was a one time event. I am not quite sure what happened, yet it did.”

Harriet chewed on her lip, “You were tired of being alone. I shut you out and you were one to crave intimacy even if your eyes always hungered for a bit more.”

John laughed, “My eyes hungered for more?”

Harriet smiled, “You have dangerous eyes, John. You always have.” She smiled again, and then she frowned, “but those eyes could cut in their hunger too. After a time, they can become a weight on the soul. Your actions may always been noble, your eyes always screamed what you needed or wanted though.”

John lost his smile. One last shared moment. One like it use to be.

The silence remained until it was too awkward.

“Where do we go from here John?” She was leaving it to him.

He chewed on the word. What he wanted was gone a long time ago.

“I want you to be happy, Harriet. If that is not with me, so be it. Perhaps this way, we can at least salvage a friendship of a sort. Better that than what we’ve let us become. I miss you being my best friend, if I can get a facet of that friendship back, well at least that is something. Tell me, now that I know you’ve been with Jill, do you have any desire not to be with her? Hell, it’s been four years, Harriet.”

“No, I care for her deeply. I...love her in a way I never thought I would ever feel again. We helped each other heal in ways neither of us thought could heal.”

“Then, that is what matters, Harr.”

“What will we tell the family?”

“Whatever the hell you want to tell them. Tell them it was my fault if it lessens the blows on your end. I’ll tell my side whatever you are the most comfortable to tell them. They don’t matter. You matter.”

Harriet started to cry, “You can still surprise me, John.”

“I try,” was his only reply. He tried to smile, even though his heart still broke for them, for her, and for himself.

~~~

John took a sip of the whiskey and let it burn his mouth before swallowing it. He was surprised how lost he was in the world two months after the divorce. He was tired of the questioning from both his siblings and his in-laws. Harriet wanted to wait to tell her family everything, knowing some of them wouldn’t understand, but she felt guilty knowing John was being beaten about it, blamed for it.

“Hey stranger, mind if I join you?”

John looked over and saw Joy. In spite of himself, his heart pounded a bit.

“The seat is yours, although I believe you said I would never see you again?”

Joy shrugged, “Surprises happen. I see your hand is lacking a ring now.”

John looked down, his thumb still missed fidgeting with it, “It seems my wife had another love. Life goes on.”

“Sucks doesn’t it. Letting them go even when you still love them in your broken way?”

“Exactly.” John wondered if Joy’s broken heart she hinted about required her to let go her old love as well.

“That is the other reason I liked you, John. Your eyes and that you would eventually do the right thing and let Harriet go and be with Jill.”

John paused, and looked at her, “I do not believe I ever mentioned my wife to you and I definitely know I didn’t mention Jill.”

Joy actually blushed, “Well, Jill is a friend of a friend. I met the pair of them at a party. I am sorry to say I knew of your wife’s affair before you probably did. Like I said, I’ve had a broken heart before. I pick my lovers by knowing if they have broken heart themselves, even if they do not know why they are broken.”

John didn’t know what to say to that, so he took another long sip of his drink.

She put her hand on his thigh, damn it that it felt wonderful to be there. He didn’t want it to feel wonderful. He didn’t want what Joy seemed to too easily stir within him. He wanted to cradle his pain and loneliness.

Joy laughed, “If you trust nothing else from me, trust that our night together was not out of pity. By the way, my real name is Hope, my middle name is Joy. My parents each wanted to name me each of those name. My mother wanted Hope. They struggled to have kids. I was their only one.”

John’s heart lurched. Wondering what the world would have been like if Harriet and he did successfully have a child. They probably would have fought over names similar to Hope-Joy’s.

“Well Hope, would you like to have dinner with me sometime?”

“How about right now? I’m famished! But, is it possible for you to calm your eyes down?”

“Not sure. Since I don’t know that I am doing it, and my ex-wife confirmed I had dangerous eyes, and the fact that whether I want to or not, I find you irresistible, probably not.”

“Well, in that case John, perhaps room service would be the better way to go,” Hope said with a sultry smile.

“Perhaps you are right,” John replied, laughing an honest laugh for the first time in a long time, “but what about the complications of love?”

“Who said anything about love, John?” Hope smirked, “That said, perhaps dreaming about those eyes of yours have left me pondering if they would stare at me with the same intensity when I am old and grey?”

Hope seemed to almost blush at the thought. John’s heart skipped a beat. He quickly paid the tab and they left the bar hand in hand. As they walked through the doorway, John kissed Hope deeply, suddenly feeling that the doorway was just as good of a place to let a relationship begin as it was a place to end one.

I feel like I've lost a part of myself, in losing my trust for you.

It's not that I don't love you,

It's that I don't believe you love me.

What hurts the most,

Is that you refuse to prove me wrong.

Constrained, confined but never contained 

Compressed, depressed but never suppressed

Disappointed, dispirited but not defeated

Hard to cut, hard to go unnoticed, hard to let go

I am a diamond and diamonds are forever.

By: Tyler Bineham

I hear America crying, we’re calling out for help

Each day brings new pain, the deepest that we’ve felt

The tears of the city kids raised to be scared of the cops

Look outside the window and you’ll see another body drop

On the flip side I hear the tears of the police

Just trying to do their job and trying to keep the peace

Racial tensions high, the highest that they’ve been

Everyone on both sides just wants it all to end

It would be an easy problem to fix if we all walk across the aisle

And break free of the bonds of foolish self-denial

But with all of our hearts hardened like a crucible

It’s hard to think back of when it was “America the beautiful”

This poem is a rendition of the poem "I hear America Singing" the former work highlighted the great things that the author saw in America. My poem highlights one of the biggest problems America faces as we strive to get back on the track towards being truly great again.

a nightmare is written on my wrists,

written in ink of blood,

in the s p a c e s of my ribcage

spiraling around and around

tightening

before it

swirls across my thighs.

the inner monsters,

the inner demons,

run rampant

through my thoughts and fingers,

driving me towards

the bladed pen

just

one

more

time,

to write out my pain

on my canvas.

never mind

that i hurt

the ones

closet to me as well.

never mind

that they

know when

i write,

when i bleed

out my

imperfections and tears

that i cannot cry,

when i carve

my faults

into the fault lines

already broken

in the trembling crevices

of my spine,

that's when i feel strong.

isn't it funny?

the times i'm weakest

are the times i'm strongest.

but that's the price

i pay

to write.

[Author's note: this is a rewrite of a poem from my early days. it does not reflect how i am now.]

please, i beg you, make it stop hurting.

i've jumped through all your hoops of unrealistic expectations, i've inhaled the secondhand-ciagarette smoke of your happiness at my pain, i've learned to thank you for kissing the underside of my jaw with your shotgun.

i've done these, but you won't help me stop hurting. you would rather hide your heated hands in my hair, fisting them tight and twisting my thoughts so they reach your skewed dreams of this thing called "love." you would rather run your barbed-wire tongue down my spine, twining your tender lashes around my scarred arms. you would rather hand me a knife and laugh in my tearing eyes at how no matter how hard i stab my chest, the hard rubber will never penetrate my parchment-thin skin.

you enjoy this, don't you?

you enjoy causing me pain and refusing me the joy of finding an excuse to hate myself more. you offer me wine from the palm of your hand, lowering it so i can barely reach it with my tongue. and then you hold me gently, easing the pain you caused with your own greed.

and you say i can stop my hurting? no--i can't because you can't stop hurting

me. take a knife and cut my heart out....

make my hurting stop.