I am sitting on the floor doing an clusterfuck of drugs. I have not eaten all day. I have not left the hotel. My people watching can wait. I have masturbated over seventeen times and had to stop because I produce any more cum to snort.
I picture Bob slapping me in the face, hard. Repeatedly before peeing in my mouth and shoving his cock all the way down my throat. He fucks me as I sit helplessly upside down, my wrists tied to my ankles.
I bring myself to orgasm, crying about Bob's name. I am weak in the knees. I want to do it all over again. I want a taste of all pain he could possibly put me through, pleasurable or not.
He is probably eating Danielle out right as I speak. Probably has forgotten about our interaction by now.
I decide it's not worth being angry about anymore until I am confronted with the bottom line – he made a fool of me.
Back to hating on the smug, ugly bastard. God forsaken cross-eyed schmuck.
I need to go out.
I am watching couples again. A single woman, an obvious psychopath with her aviators is sitting next to me befriending my angst. If I dare watch her through the corner of my eye, I will meet her intimidating scathe. Her full lips are pursued as she stares straight ahead at the ocean through her shades. She too regards this world with angst beneath her tough girl front.
I, a cat, she, a lion. Her prowess wipes the floor with mine.
I observe her only to see her suddenly get out of her lounger and disappear down the walkway. She walks fast, her square shoulders cutting the warm wind. I've ruined my chances with this woman not knowing if I had one in the first place.