Note: Some of the content of this story is not suitable for readers under the age of 18.
Driven to Distraction
by Jeanie Grey
Only a week ago they’d been emailing back and forth all day long. They’d seen each other three times in the last week and had spent the majority of that time fucking. Now she hadn’t heard from him for a day and a half, and she found herself panicking. What if he’d changed his mind? What if his feelings had faded? His interested had waned?
But that was ridiculous. They used to go two or three weeks without talking to or seeing one another, and he'd still been interested. The thought helped a little, but not enough.
She wondered if he was thinking about her. Wondered what he was doing at that moment. She reflected with dissatisfaction on the fact that he hadn’t wanted to commit to a day for their next date. She resisted the urge to email him. To listen to the playlist he’d made for her or to make a playlist for him. She didn’t want to be thinking about him so much, didn’t want to devote so much energy to him when she wasn’t with him.
She turned her thoughts instead to travel. Escape. She could go anywhere, do anything. Speak foreign languages. Eat strange foods. Meet people. There were so many people to meet. About seven billion, in fact.
She imagined buying a plane ticket to Europe. Revisiting certain places in Spain and France. Seeing friends who lived in Belgium and Italy, both places she’d never been. She could do this—next week, if she wanted to—and he couldn’t. He was not a free as she was. It gave her a rush of excitement to know that the whole world was open to her and waiting in a way that it wasn’t to him. She had that advantage, at least.
Heat flashed through her torso and she gasped as she was overcome by a memory of the last time they’d been together. They both lay on their sides on his futon, face to pelvis. He’d pushed her knees apart. She moaned around his penis, her hand massaging his scrotum as his fingers probed her entrance and his tongue steadily caressed her clitoris. Both of them licking and fondling. Moaning into each other.
She shook her head to clear the vision. Breathless and annoyed, she decided to go out. She chose a bar within walking distance that she’d never been to before. When she walked in the door, a few heads swiveled in her direction and her innards floated as if a roller coaster had dropped. She sauntered up to the bar, trying to appear relaxed and casual. Ordered the lager on tap and chose a stool on the far side of the bar that afforded a view of the whole room. She settled into observation mode and pulled her energy back so people could ignore her.
The bartender, a handsome man probably in his late twenties, spent all his time between orders flirting with a a gorgeous, dark-haired woman sitting at the bar by herself near the door, who smiled shyly and looked up at him through her lashes.
A couple in their early twenties sat on a bench on the same side of their table, engrossed in one another. One of the women whispered in her lover’s ear, her face half-buried in her lover’s long blonde hair, while the other woman’s hand disappeared beneath a mini-skirt. Fingers playing on the inside of her lover’s thigh.
Two men in their fifties sat across from each other at a table in the middle of the bar, reminiscing about old times over bottles of Coors Light. Every so often their eyes would dart over to the lesbian couple and dart back again. Equal parts discomfort and fascination.
A college student sat by herself near the door, her laptop and a textbook spread out on the table before her. Wires running into her ears.
She sipped her lager and watched. Made up stories in her head about the other people in the bar. Wondered where they lived and where they came from. After a while she felt more like herself again. Comforted by the fact that there were whole worlds that had nothing to do with her. Or with him.