1-That fateful Encounter
Every night for the past three weeks I’ve had the same dream. Well, it felt more like remembering something I’ve long forgotten.
It’s about a young male who resembled me. Dark creamy polished chocolate complexion. Brilliant brown eyes. Straight nose and dark pink lips. The only difference between us was his hair. His was long and pony tailed, while I wore mine highly faded.
And it seemed like I. He was having a conversation with me for what felt like hours.
About what? I don’t know. Because for some reason, I can’t hear what my look alike was saying to me. Nor do I know what I was saying to him.
Yeah, I know this is a fucked-up dream. But it kept haunting me like a fucking nightmare.
I slipped from beneath the cotton blue sheet with only my black boxers on. You know. That one that outline every feature. Every detail of the lower body.
And I may not be as muscular as a body builder, but my physical features are just as desirable and sturdy as any stud. Magazine Companies would pay billions, if not trillions of dollars to have me on their front page showing off this god hand made body.
In my dreams that is.
I sprinted into the bathroom, which was close by the couch where I slept. I’ve been holding up some long overdue urine in my bladder that is knifing beneath my stomach, ordering me to let it be free.
Oh, God yeah! I whipped my head back as fluid flow through my urethra, down the toilet bowl.
I don’t know how it is for anybody else, but every time I urinate after holding it in for a long period. It feels pleasurable. Almost like having an orgasm.
OK, maybe I’m exaggerating a bit. But it feels good. Amazingly good.
After I’m done shaking and confining my little boy, I reached for my blue toothbrush on the face basin counter. Paste it with toothpaste, brushing it against my pearly whites while staring at my dashingly handsome features in the mirror above the sink.
As soon as my mouth was clean to my satisfaction, I rinse it, clean my toothbrush and placed the toothbrush back to its previous location. Exited the bathroom, stumbling in to my best bud, Brandon Fletcher inside the living room.
How should I describe Brandon?
Well, we’ve been best buds for as long as I can remember. Our parents abandoned us the day we were born, at the Cambridge Orphanage, where we undergo hell together. He’s the most trustworthy guy I know. Smart, a very straight-forward guy. My brother from another mother.
I’ve witnessed countless women fell for his charms on numerous occasions, so there’s no doubt he’s a handsome fellow. In fact, I was inferior to him in terms of looks and physical body structure. The guy is literally a baby hulk. Better looking of course and without the green complexion.
Three months ago, when I got thrown out of my apartment because I could no longer afford to pay the rent due to unemployment. Brandon my brother who always got my back no matter what, didn’t hesitate to take me in. There is nothing in this lifetime I could ever do to repay all the good this guy had done for me. I will forever be in debt to him. I love the guy.
“Out of the way Bro!” Brandon pushed me aside, hurrying into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He seemed to be experiencing the same thing I was earlier, or probably it’s because he was late for work as usual and need to shower. “Oh, before I forgot. I’m having company over later, so it would be wise to find something fun to do. Besides masturbating tonight.”
I felt as if lightning struck me. I was embarrassed. How did Brandon know I masturbated?
That is a lifetime secret I never shared with anyone. Not even with God. There is no way he could know I masturbate. I only do it when he’s not around, or when I am showering, or after I ensure he’s asleep. So how did he know?
OK. Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe he’s assuming I do it because he does it on a regular basis. And if you’re wondering how I know this. Well it’s because I’ve heard him numerous times. Not intentionally of course.
Though I don’t see his reason for masturbating. Because unlike me the innocent lamb, a twenty-year-old virgin. He has all the girls in the world to satisfy his immense sexual urges. Not a day passed he doesn’t have sex. Even when he’s ill. God, I envy him.
I’ve never experienced the pleasure of being with a woman. Not even to do something as simple as a kiss or a hug. I imagined it sometimes, though. And it felt great in my head, so the real thing must be mind blowingly great. Right?
However, I’m too nervous to talk to girls much less to get naked with one.
I mean what if she doesn’t find me desirable? Or The size of my dick is not to her satisfaction?
What if I fail to please her sexually?
Sigh, I’ll be a virgin forever.
I walked over to a wooden chest, that contained my only clothing. A few old undergarments, three trousers and seven t-shirts. I took the blue jeans and the white top, got dressed before starting my regular daily duties, cleaning the messy apartment.
Brandon had some friends over last night. Partying. While I was out at some bar, drowning my miserable life with alcohol.
When I got back in, clothes and underwear littered the floor like leaves in autumn. Dirty dishes, cups and empty beer bottle scattered everywhere. They were even nasty used condoms on the floor. It was a very disturbing sight to behold.
Unfortunately I, the maid. The butler. The janitor. All three combined, is around to clean up after them.
I started with my sleeping area the living room. Dusting, sweeping and disposing rubbish, which took me several minutes.
Now it’s time for the kitchen. I washed the dishes, clean the counters, the cupboards and the stove. Wipe the dirty brown coloured tiles until they were perfectly clean.
Next was Brandon’s bedroom. I picked up the scattered clothes from the floor, putting them to their correct places. Wipe the floor, spread the bed. Though all of this was in vain, since Brandon and whoever he’s having over later, will definitely ruin my hard work.
An hour and a half later, I’ve completed all the chores and was now exhausted. Starving, and there’s nothing in the refrigerator to eat. Therefore, I had to go out and get me something tasty to eat, though I don’t have the strength to do it. But if I don’t, then I will die of hunger.
I reached for the only pair of worn out black and white sneakers I have from beneath the couch. Placed them on my feet, tying my shoe laces into neat bows.
“Brandon, I’m out!” I shouted as I took my wallet from the couch, heading out the door. Brandon was still in the shower not ready for work. Surprisingly he still has a job.
I arrived at my destination, West Café, a few blocks down the street from Brandon’s apartment. I came here almost every morning to buy breakfast and coffee.
Not just me, but everyone in town. West Café served the best food and coffee in all of Lucas Vale.
Pushing the glass door open, the bell chimed. I stumbled into something really hard, as if it was an iron wall. The toughest metal on earth.
Imagined my surprise when I realized it wasn’t an iron wall or the toughest metal on earth like I thought, but a person. A gorgeous young woman.
My world stopped the minute I mistakenly gazed into her fierce yet beautiful dark brown eyes that matched the colour of her long hair.
My heart raced like horses on the racetrack, my palms sweaty and my mouth flooded with oceans of water.
It’s a sin for one woman to be so damn stunning, so fucking beautiful. Excuse my language. So damn hot. Her face was naturally beautiful no cosmetics whatsoever, which was strange.
I’ve never seen a girl in the twentieth century not wearing make-up, while out in public. But this angel didn’t need it anyway. Her complexion was dark and lovely, skin polished like diamonds. Her figure was perfectly outlined in her jeans shorts and black crop top. My eyes detect no flaw.
Just who is this goddess?
For the first time in my life, I desperately want to know a woman. I need to know her, but how? I don’t even know how to talk to a girl, as I mentioned earlier. And I never had a dad, mom or an older brother or sister to teach me these things.
Brandon is not much of a help either. His advice is to sit back and let my “killer looks” whatever that means, do the work for me. Easy for him to say. Girls are attracted to him like bees to their hives. As if he was their fucking messiah. He’s literally a chick’s magnet. The man every woman wanted to be with. And I’m the opposite of all that.
Anyway, I can’t just let her go without saying anything. I have to do something.
First I apologize for rudely bumping into her. However, she just looked at me with those scary alluring eyes from head to foot as if I was annoying her. As if I was nothing and leave the café.
I guess I’m not attractive enough to get her attention, or maybe she thought I was some kind of pervert. Damn it I scared her off.
That’s laughable. She doesn’t strike me as the kind a girl who gets scared easily. Maybe I’m just not destined to have a woman. I’m destined to be alone for the rest of my life.
Nonetheless, I wanted to chase after her. Even if she doesn’t find me as desirable as I do her. But my legs wouldn’t move. They were glued to the floor. Damn legs move.
I looked back through the glass door, but she was nowhere in sight.
I’m such an idiot, a loser, a wimp, a spineless man. If I can be even called a man.
My heart broke at the thought that this is the first and last time I would ever see god’s greatest creation. That incomparable beauty.
I felt tears gathering in my eyes. My body writhe with despair. Now I’ve lost all appetite to even eat. I don’t even want to be here, or anywhere. I just want her.
What the hell is happening to me? I just met her.
Why am I losing my mind over a stranger?
Why does it felt like if I don’t have her, then my world would collapse? My life would come to a sudden end?
I searched myself for the answer, but I got nothing. I definitely need some time to cool my head. To get past this phase. These overwhelming unfamiliar new emotions I’m now experiencing.