First edit

The Press Club

I was at the press club and it wasn’t the meat market that I thought it would be. I was disappointed and depressed about that, maybe the stories were right, the only place to meet cheap slutty women were at catholic church events. Although as I was about to leave I saw an ebony woman in a very short white dress. Classy yet erotic hinting at things mortals should not know about, denying more that it revealed. She was beautiful she was like a sex goddess spiritual yet physical dark yet filled with light. She moved like she could fuck like a witch, casting her sexual spells on the unwary. She was sublime and mysterious. Somehow I got a wild hair up my ass and I just started dancing in front of her, and she stayed there; dancing with me. I couldn’t believe it I was sure that I would get the usual downtown girl too good for you walk away. That sword of rejection that they wield so well at these places. I was telling myself it didn’t matter that there were more women in this world than men. That I was a good looking catch that I had it all; I kept telling myself that hoping that perpetuation of the lie would at once become a truth. I thought about the sith outside who was telling me that all you had to do was look like you were a looser going nowhere and doing nothing, looking like you didn’t care, the eternal lie of the mating game. She spoke to my soul my bones my balls and my gut though. And I didn’t want to play the game anymore. Suddenly I realized that she had here back to me and she was grinding her hips inches away from me. The contrast of her dark skin the white dresses the low-lit room. Denying me the ability to see more of her as her hips gyrated and her dress appeared to move up or out of the way. That white dress hiding and showing promises beyond belief. I could almost smell her through the dank sweat and pheromones permeating the room of people who wanted to fuck and be fucked. Her closeness was electrifying, it sent a shock wave through me that I could barley control I wanted to grab her and grind my hips into hers I wanted to brush my lips against her long supple neck. I wanted to seduce her. I was terrified I didn’t want rejection. I didn’t want to feel the cold hard hands of NO grabbing my balls, twisting them and saying that I didn’t deserve her. I kept telling myself that there were more women than men in this world, and that the odds were in my favor. I kept telling myself that the right woman would show up at the right time. But her raw sexual goddess like energy dashed all of those artificial thoughts to the ground, and made them meaningless. But for one moment for one hot second the illusion that she could be mine was there. And like a powerful drug coursing through my veins. I felt her sexuality and mine mingle and intertwine, our souls meeting and loving, our essence creating a new smell. Maybe it was all in my head, maybe she was thinking that she was just dancing next to some guy in a nightclub; someone to be forgotted the next moment, but to me I will remember it always. Later that night I imagined that I did grab her hips and that I did brush my lips against her neck, and it was a catalyst for a night of passion. I imagined our souls meeting in the deep dark spiritual place of the bedroom. I imagine the lovemaking that took everything you were, your entire life and summed it all up into one moment. I imagined the pain of wanting someone more that life its self, and the greater pain of having them. I imagined her to be my Athena in the flesh, waging war on my heart. I imagined a night not humanly possible. I went home by myself tonight but the magic of the experience of humanity of two people getting together will always be with me. I hope that I never meet her again.

Eric Adint