Vignettes

She can feel his labored breath on her skin.

It wakes her from dreams in a cold sweat.  The feeling of disgust fills her and the smell of vodka, cheap cologne and sex fills her nostrils.  With held breath, she snakes out from under Jamie’s arm until she is free of his terrible, comforting grip, held only by the familiar memory of her situation.  De ja vu is a bitch.

Erica sits upright, naked save for the dirty velvet sheets, listening to his snores.  How many times?  How many times has she been in this situation?  How many more times will she do this to herself?   ‘Never again’ she said, so many times before.   Each time with sincerity.

But then its another endless, pointless day at work.  Another phone call from home about her baby sister’s wonderful new husband.  Another bad date. Another unpaid bill. Another this, another that.  And it’s a few martini’s and a phone call. 

Jamie is familiar.  He’s good in bed and he’s there.  And for a moment… just for a moment… he’s what she needs.  She fucks him and it doesn’t feel so bad.  Even if this isn’t going anywhere, she’s greatful for the distraction.

She slips on her panties and pulls her dress over her arms and walks out the door.  Jamie never stirs. 

She’ll be back.

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