"I want you to kill me," he said.
I looked at him, expressionless, not sure if he was serious. After a year of knowing him, I still had trouble reading him at times. Sometimes he would say the most outrageous things just to entertain himself with my extreme gullibility.
"I'm serious. I've had enough. The wife and I are...well, you know. Work sucks, and I am just...tired. I want you to kill me," he said without blinking.
"And how do you propose I do that?" I asked matter-of-factly. I still figured he was kidding.
"I want you to fuck me," he said.
"Ex-fuckin-scuse me? How the hell would me fucking you... kill you?" I was getting pissed.
"Well...I haven't exactly been honest with you..." he said.
Fucking great. Just what I needed was another liar in my life. He went on to tell me that the reason he and his wife hadn't had sex in over a year, the reason his marriage was on his last legs, and the reason he was always sick was because he had a heart condition. He got all technical explaining things and I zoned out. I replayed all of our conversations in my head. I had been wanting him, needing him, since the first days we began talking. His wife wasn't taking care of him, why shouldn't I? It would have been perfect. No strings, no heart break, no clingy, jealous boyfriend...just a fuck buddy that I not only trusted but was wildly attracted to.
But...
Now this.
I was angry that he had lied to me. I was sad to think that the fun I wanted from him would mean I would never see him again. I was also still being cautious, not sure if he was just pulling my leg. I could feel the tears stinging my eyes, but I held back as much as I could. He knew though. He always knew. He came over and hugged me.
"Hush, My Kitten. I know your thoughts are going wild. I want you to think about it. We'll talk tomorrow. I have to go for now," he said. He kissed my forehead and the tears slid down my cheeks as I looked up to him. My perfect friend, the only one I trusted and could tell everything, wanted me to put him in a better place by giving him something we both wanted and needed: an Earth shattering, bone rattling orgasm that would put any man in the grave, but specially him.
Fuck.
I laid there hour after hour, minute after minute. I cried, I laughed, I did shots of tequila just to try to calm myself. I sat on the porch in the rain and read through all of our little messages that meant the most to me. I realized that I had done him the biggest disservice one friend can do to another. I didn't see how badly he was hurting behind his tough exterior. I knew he was different with me. he was always nicer to me than I had seen him be with other people. He was, to put it gently, an ass to most people especially people he didn't know. I also knew that he hid things from me to some extent, but he was married. I had to expect him to shield me from some things. But I couldn't help but think I had let him down. It was no longer him that I was angry at, it was myself.
I made my decision.
Every evening after work, he made a point to stop by my place before going home. He had a key and the ability to come and go as he pleased whether I was home or not. My place was his safe place. He knew I had nothing but open arms for him. Mi casa, Su casa. I never felt the need to entertain him. He belonged there. This evening was different.
When he walked in, I was fresh from the bath and smelled of a light vanilla. My red hair was in long ringlets and waves. I think it looked prettier than it ever had when he had seen me. I wore a cute little white sundress with pink flowers adorning it here and there in their own low key, dainty kind of way. The dress flowed in the right places, and it hugged in the right places. I felt like a little girl. His little girl.
He stood in the doorway for a second and just stared. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes before he closed the door behind him. He came to me and held me in his arms tighter and sweeter than he ever had. I didn't think it was possible. He was always so good to me. I had to be strong. I couldn't break down.