Curtains remained drawn to create a subconscious darkness.
The lamp stayed off.
The only light that shone on pale features emitted from an unplugged laptop. The battery was nearly dead, 18 percent. On the screen a fake-ass amateur couple’s skin slapped together, thighs smacking and creating noise that could only be described as unnatural. She was screaming, mouth agape and positioning herself in such a way for the camera to consume her. All angles. All… selected. Tanned flesh rippled during close-ups and the brunette made foul moans, moans that… sounded… one-dimensional.
Allie stilled at the sight. Her face wore a blank, expressionless gaze. The brunette looked at her - spewing dialogue that insinuated an effortless orgasm. Her legs shook with displaced ‘pleasure’. The male lover, on the other hand, stayed relatively silent. No words of actual sensuality were displayed. The void of… fantasy? Blue eyes didn’t even leave the shock-value entertainment that modern generations deemed as normal. Instead, she simply placed her skull back against her headboard. Like always it was meant to be a slight distraction. The blonde couldn’t go out and meet a man, none amounted to what she yearned for. So that left one option. Years ago there had been two. Option one: To use her own brain and fantasize. Once upon a time that had been the default and it was enjoyable. Of course, romance novels were sometimes utilized to bump up the gusto so to say but truly Allie had always been... imaginative and therefore could be quite creative when the moment called for it. No need for external sources.
But now the daydreams consistently turned to the same ideas and he wasn’t around. In fact, the last time she made an effort for self-discovery she started to sob with her hands in her pyjamas. It turned out that longing outweighed sexual desire. She learned that the hard way. The visions started with touching every time but as soon as it got to erotic destinations the same delusion would always occur. Her mind would think about him telling her that he loved her in her ear with a calloused, yet kind palm on her bare belly and understanding lips would sweep over the side of her hair. Never X-rated in the way that humans were supposed to fantasize.
So, instead, she had option 2: pornography. For months it had worked (if only briefly). Sadly the masturbation wasn’t even to ‘get off’. It was just for small rushes of dopamine— anything to push away the truth, the dark.
This woman wasn’t satisfied.
This woman was getting paid, probably a shite amount - to play a character. A personification of the male gaze.
And so, Allie’s hands remained on her stomach. Watching, yet detached from her own desires. Two people were within her eyeline and naked performing an action that should have brought at least a fraction of arousal but all Alice felt was apathy. She supposed that the coping mechanism of distraction could only last for so long. Unfortunately, porn was the last method left of brief escapism.
She should have known it was coming. When she had first started watching the adult videos she’d get… maybe three minutes in before feeling the momentary release of fractional bliss. Soon three minutes became five, then seven, then ten… Ten should have been the red flag. She’d been struggling to even feign interest for a month or so. Now she sat in bed watching the whole video without even attempting to alleviate her pain.
The clip ended and Allie stared for a minute or maybe two before closing the screen of the device and slipping it onto the nightstand. She turned on her side. The black abyss in around her had now become more apparent and god, it settled. It settled deep and harsh. But there were no tears —- just an intense feeling of emptiness.
In her younger years, Alice had professed that she would never need a man again. What a delusion. She didn’t need men like Ryan, that was true. Her honesty hadn’t wavered over that - but Dean? Had it ever even been about him being a man? No. Maybe not. She didn’t necessarily need a man to survive. That was too general. No. Allie needed a best friend. The funny thing about having something? Before you have it… you can have an idea of what it’s like and yearn for that representation but you don’t actually know what is to have that thing; to hold it in your hands and feel the warmth that radiates from it.
But when you do have it - when you fall asleep with it? Kiss it? Laugh with… him? That’s different. Because it wasn’t an idea or an image. It happened and being without it… without him…
Worst breakup of her life and they’d never been together. Sometimes nightmares of him and Lisa came to her. Were they nightmares if they occurred during ‘waking’ hours? Not that Allie ever really felt awake anymore. More so… moving. Wandering. How pathetic was that? Sadly she did have Sam but… actually, she didn’t because he straight up didn’t give a fuck about her. He was gone too.
Still, she continued on with Bobby to create some semblance of routine. Tomorrow the sun would creep in through the blinds and she’d wake up with either twelve hours of sleep or four and take phone calls from hunters who needed assistance. She could do that. Offer something to someone, she supposed. The word ‘co-dependency’ had become redundant. Bobby didn’t dare speak of it but they made eye contact at times and the thoughts brewing below his surface were obvious. Alice was lost. And she knew it! She damn well knew that something was wrong but she couldn’t be assed to make any effort to solve it. They had saved the fucking world. What magic purpose would come after that? Nothing. No wonder the void had become overwhelmingly large. A hero. Funny. What fuckin’ luck.
The days passed quickly. Depression kind of performed that way. Things were either slow or a blur. But one night Allie did attempt to have a different form of diversion. A shift in perspective. Melancholy wouldn’t aid her. They’d been through this route before. During Dean’s time spent in Hell Allie had become reckless and impulsive, practically suicidal with grief. Yes, that didn’t happen again, though most likely only because he was still alive. That meant shutting down. He was still living, breathing, walking around but she could not be with him.
Lips parted in the mirror beneath crimson lipstick. Long eyelashes were accentuated with mascara and dark eyeshadow. Recalling the last time she had done something simply for herself proved too difficult. Was that the problem? Enough living for other people. Maybe the way out and through — was herself. A part of her was done feeling like a token woman in someone else’s story.
She stepped out into the evening air with forced grace and confidence. It had… been a while but still. Why not try? What did she have to lose? The bar was somewhat busy as Allie entered through the main door. A decent mix of generations. They wouldn’t have typically come to such places. It was… a dive disguised as a cocktail bar. Like an imitation of the high class without any achievement. The smells were… odd. A mixture of lavender and beer. As if someone had placed a car air freshener in a liquor store.
Still, a maroon-painted fingernail traced along the rim of a chilled martini glass. She’d never actually attempted the whole ‘get over by getting under’ method when it came to breakups and her heart had certainly reacted like a breakup. Perhaps the people who lived by hoeing were correct! Hoeing lovingly, of course. Allie could be a hoe for one night. Right? Modesty had gone out the window as soon as she dedicated herself to the idea of finding a random and having a good time to purge herself of tension. A thought had crossed her mind of the chance that potentially - she was so upset because she hadn’t been laid in a while? Like… years. Made sense that the blonde had grown so attached to her ‘friends’ considering they were her only form of intimacy for such prolonged periods of time.
So, when the music turned into something more possessive and thundering Allie was all too inclined to force herself into the dance area and give herself away to potential charisma — wherever that would lead.
Eventually, large hands gripped over sensitive hips. Four appletinis (specifically ordered for change of pace) had left Allie quite… tipsy. Perfect placement. The guy in front of her was not familiar in the slightest and Alice would not have done this even two years ago but a person had needs and it’s not as though she wanted a relationship, just to fucking feel something that wasn’t like absolute shit.
And so, she accepted the stranger's invite for more provocative dancing. He had yelled his name over the music (or tried to) but Allie didn’t really give a fuck. She hadn’t heard him and didn’t ask for it again. Instead, she opted to stay quiet and move with him to the loud music, which was another example of the business’s failings in having any semblance of a classy establishment.
As the evening progressed debauchery ensued. One-night lovers filled the dancefloor as lights and ear-piercing music thundered. Aggressive lips landed on the side of her neck in open-mouthed slobbering over porcelain skin. This guy had very limited charm. But Alice didn’t stop him. The term self-destruction hadn’t occurred to her. All that mattered was the feeling of doing something. The only way out was through.
His hands moved up to press near her collarbone, forcing her body flush against him. He had a musk that was disgustingly mundane. Old spice? Axe? Whatever. Just smelled like any other average American guy. What if that was the point? What if… he was an idea, and not of any actual importance?
Again, whatever. It’s not like she was going to marry the dude. Just… kiss him a bit? Grind? Fuck? Things would happen, that’s all she really knew. He represented a need to move on and that was it. A means to an end. The bitter truth no matter how fucked up it sounded. Others did it all the time, why couldn’t she?
One in the morning approached on nearly hidden clocks as if the establishment was a Casino. Keep the drunks drinking and they’ll stay until closing time! The morals of yesterday no longer adhered. Allie was a different woman back in her early twenties. Now she was a woman who had attempted to save the world, died, and received nothing.
So fuck it!
Before the blonde knew it her frame was being picked up and placed on top of a marble countertop in the women’s bathroom. Their mouths were tangled together in heat, wet and hasty. Really the scene went against everything that had ever worked for her. Devoid of any sensuality or passion. Sex. Meaningless, erotic less, worthless. Still, she allowed his hand to move under her blouse and roughly grip at her breast. Had this man ever actually fucked a woman before? If only she could roll her eyes. Gripping did not count as foreplay. Well, not to her.
The velvet skirt that adorned her wide hips and recently thickened thighs was pushed up quickly. Getting the condom on hadn’t even been much of a struggle for him. He must have been… well adapted to short flings.
Soon he pumped into her with unrhythmic vigor. “You’re so fucking hot,” Somehow, those words were nearly the most unattractive thing she’d ever heard. Nearly. He spoke again and that took the cake. “Can’t believe I get to fuck you.” Allie let out an audible groan. He must have thought it was of some sort of grand impressing because he started to slam into her harder, so hard that her palm pressed against the mirror to anchor herself down onto the countertop. The effort didn’t equate to skill but Allie went there for a fuckin’ reason and she’d be damned if it didn’t come to fruition.
“Shit, I’m gonna cum!” He hissed between clenched teeth and Allie braced herself for the oncoming slam that would probably leave her unsatisfied. Seconds later he was sighing and twitching with a pause. Finally, he met eyes with her and spoke again in a wry croak.
“Did you cum? Do you want me to…?” How fucking depressing. Alice stared at him momentarily and ignored the question, not even offering an excuse for him. No. She hadn’t, and she wouldn’t proclaim that she had to save his poor ego. Rather than offer any sort of comfort to him over his mediocre performance, Allie slid off of the countertop while he put himself away and turned to look in the mirror.
Blonde hair, blue eyes, painted lips, big tits, big ass, hourglass figure…
And he couldn’t believe that he ‘got to fuck her’.
