-Prisoner-
11
Well, today was fuckin' productive. NOT.
I went by the adoption agency and they could tell me absolutely nothing. They're gonna 'call me back' but they think those records were destroyed in a fire. I can't understand this! All I'm trying to do is fix the fuckin' *mistake* they made twenty fuckin' years ago!
And to make matters worse?!
I can't stop thinkin' about that fuckin'… phone shit last night.
I *was* jealous. But more than that… I was *really* hurt. Thinkin' about him with someone else… it really hurt, like a blow to the gut. Worse than what Ben said last year, worse than this shit with my parents.
I finish French-braiding my hair and glance at the clock. He said he'd have a red Monte Carlo to pick me up at seven-thirty and it's almost time. I look at myself in the mirror and I chose a pair of tight hip-huggers and a light-blue peasant top. I throw on a pair of sandals, grab my purse and head downstairs.
Well- there's only one red Monte Carlo so let's hope for best. I walk over and the door opens. "You look *great*," he says as I get in the car and close the door.
"Thanks," I say and so does he. He's got a pair of baggy jeans (shocking, I know) with a bright red shirt. Damn- he looks good in reds and blues and he's got on an red dorag and white D12 cap.
I love that about him. It's like… all the press shots and everything- it's not a show. He *actually* dresses that way- all the time.
"You're quiet. You okay?" He asks. "I mean… didn't even *kiss* me and-"
"I care about you."
Fuck. My mouth just tends to… spout things out without letting me *thinking* about them.
He practically *slams* on the breaks and pulls us into a parking lot.
"What are you-" But I'm cut off by his mouth attacking mine and his hands wrapping around my waist and I'm kissing him back, meeting his passion. Shit.
He pulls away and I'm breathless. "I care about you too, Eva." And then he kisses me a bit softer.
And then we're driving again. "How goes the search?" He asks after a minute.
I pull the visor down to check my lip balm and-
"Eva? You okay?"
"Fine," I answer, looking into my eyes again. I think I may actually be quasi-happy. "It *isn't* going. I've got nothing except 'we'll call you'. I mean- fuck- I just wanna get back to my *life*, ya know? Unfuck-up what they fucked up."
"Can I ask you a question, Babe?"
"What?"
"Do you think it'll be better?"
"Huh?"
"After you find them, do you think it'll be better?"
"Anything has to be better than *this*, doesn't it? I mean… how could my own *parents* not want me?"
"But… they *didn't*," he answers and I look over at him. "They *didn't* want you, Eva."
"I know," I say.
"*Do* you, Baby? You're going to look for people who didn't *want* you in the first place, when you've got two people who-"
"*Don't*," I say and put my hand up. "Let's not." I look out the window again and I'm happy he dropped it. "So… where we goin'?"
"Back to where I'm stayin'."
"Where's Hailie?"
"Sleepin' at home. She was exhausted- took her wit' me to the studio today and showed her how to make beats."
"Daddy's little girl," I smile.
A while later I have to blink a few times as we pull up in front of a huge house. "*This* is where you stay?"
"Dre don't like me stayin' in a hotel or whatever. So Hai and me stay wit' him when we're here."
"What?" I blink again. Did he just say… Dre?
"C'mon," he winks. And the next thing I know, we're inside and I'm shaking hands with *Dr. Dre*. Like- HOLY SHIT!
"Em's told me a lot abouchu," he says. "And this is my wife, Nicole-"
HOLY SHIT. I'm shaking hands with Dr. Dre's WIFE! How fuckin' cool is this?
Although- I'm a big nitwit because I haven't so much as said *anything* and- "Sorry," I shake my head free of my stupidity. "I just- wasn't expecting… I mean… shit…"
"Don't worry 'bout it. C'mon, we got some snacks and shit in here…"
The whole night is just… surreal- like it's not really happening- like I'm in someone else's life. Shit. I mean- I'm eating dinner with Dr. Dre- hello? Mr. NWA- Straight outta Compton- fuck!
And they're *nice*. He and his wife- they're *nice*. *Really* nice and watching Marsh with someone *else*- not me- laughing and telling jokes- trading jabs…
I can't believe I'm *here*. I mean… this is the first time I've spent time with him with other people- besides that first night at the party. And he talks about me? With other people? With his friends? I mean… he never mentioned that- that they *knew* about me…
"How about dessert?" Nicole asks, standing up and she starts cleaning the table.
"I'll help," I say, grabbing a few plates.
"You don't *have* to-"
"No, but I'd like to," I answer. I follow her into the *large* kitchen.
"We're so happy to finally meet you," she says.
"Huh? Finally?"
"Yeah, well- Marshall's been talking about you for a while- the girl he's been seeing. Tell you the truth- we were starting to wonder if you even *existed*."
"He talks about me?"
"He likes you," she answers. "Been a while since Andre's seen him this… happy."
*I* make him *happy*? He never… said that.
"Oh," is my only response and I head toward the door, "I'll go get a few more things."
I head back toward the dining room but stop in the hallway when I hear my name.
"What do you think about Eva?"
"She's nice, Em. She's *real*-"
"I *told* you she was, Bitch. Isn't she great? I mean… she's just a normal person- ya know?"
"She's young," Dre says.
"So?"
"She's ten *years* younger…"
"I *like* her."
"Sure you don't just like fuckin' her?"
"Well- of course, I do. She's fuckin'… *amazing*. I mean- the sex is… out of this world. But- that's not it. She's… smart, and funny and *fun*. Shit- Kim was never *fun*. And she treats me like a normal person and-"
"Sure that's not it? That she's the only one you think you *can* be with?"
"She's the only one I *wanna* be with, Dre."
What?
"Eva, were you gonna get more?" Shit. Nicole asks as she walks past me and turns the corner to the dining room. I follow her and Em's just got that look- the look that tells me he *knows* I was listening.
"Not allergic to chocolate, are you?" She asks me.
"Oh, no- not allergies that I know of- 'less you count history, but-"
She laughs a bit and I grab a few dishes and head back to the kitchen and don't look at him as I do. And why is that such a fuckin' *shock*? That he wants to be with me? I mean… he gave me the fuckin' ring and told me he wanted to be with *only* *me*. But- I didn't think he… meant it.
12
"Thanks for watchin' Hai, Man. I'll be back in a bit."
"Take your time, Em," Dre says with a wink and I know he doesn't think I'm stupid enough not to have seen it.
"Eva, it was a delight to meet you," Nicole says, giving me a hug.
"Thanks, you too- thanks for dinner."
"No problem- maybe you can come back for a swim while you're out here."
"Yeah, maybe," I shrug. "Night."
I get in the car and he gets in next to me and we're on our way back to the hotel.
"You're quiet again," he says.
"Lot on my mind," I shrug, looking down at my fingers.
"About earlier-" he starts.
But I stop him with my big fuckin' mouth. "Do you think you're better off without your dad?"
"Huh?"
"Your father- he took off. Left with your mom. Are you better for it? I mean… have you ever wanted to-"
"*No*. He *left*… he made his choice."
"Even now? You're not even curious? With what he might say?"
"Nope," he answers and he looks over at me as the car stops at a light. "Do I think I'm better off? I don't know- it's not like I've always yearned for a dad."
"Maybe it would have been better- your mom wouldn't have driven you crazy…"
"*Or*, it would have been worse. But it's over. I don't look back. But it's not the same."
"What's not?"
"My dad isn't the same as your parents, Eva. He didn't make the choice to give me up, he chose to walk away. It's not the same."
"He chose to give you to your mom and look how fucked that ended up? It's exactly the same," I inform him.
"But my mom wasn't competent enough to raise a kid. Your parents were- they made sure you had a good family."
"How the fuck do *YOU* know?!" I ask angrily. "You don't even *know* my parents."
"You might not get along, Eva, but do you *honestly* believe they don't love you?"
No.
I'm not sure if I whispered that or not. But he doesn't say anything else on the way back to the hotel and I don't either.
"Ya wanna come up?" I ask as he pulls up to the hotel. "I mean- you got time for a quick fuck?" I ask, turning toward him.
"About what I said-"
"Forget about it. Wanna come up or not?" I ask, placing my hand on his thigh.
"I wanna talk about what you heard. I wanna talk about *us*."
"There *is* no us," I state. "There's just this." I start stroking him through his jeans.
He takes his hand away from his semi-hard cock and kisses the palm softly. "Do you honestly believe there's no us?" He asks quietly. "Is that *really* what you want?"
"It's what there *is*," I say. "And what there will be. And if it's not good enough for you anymore, then-"
But he silences me by pulling me toward his lips and I sigh into his kiss.
He pulls away after a minute and asks, "Aren't you *sick* of it yet?"
He releases me and I ignore his question. "You comin' or not?"
"Not tonight," he answers. "I don't like leavin' Hai there when I'm not."
I nod and open the door. "Night."
"Eva, don't want you leavin' thinkin' I'm mad or somethin'-"
"I know," I say. "Thanks for dinner."
"Call me tomorrow."
I nod and head into the hotel.
Fuck- this is just too fuckin' much.
I didn't used to think this much. It didn't used to be this hard to… exist.
I guess I should call Mami and Papi.
"¿Alo?" She answers.
"Mamita, soy yo, Eva."
"¡EVA! ¡MIJA! ¿Cómo estás? How's it going, Eva?"
"I'm waiting for some calls. The adoption agency is trying to see what they can find in their records. So…"
"Eva, escucha, Hija. I... wanted to tell you that- lo que quiero decir es que... lo siento."
"You're sorry, Mami? ¿Para que?"
"We're sorry we weren't there for you, Mija. We thought we were- we thought… we did not want to make an issue of your color, Evita. I suppose we made it worse."
"Mama…"
"We just don't want to lose you, Mija. A mí, no me importa si no eres una latina. A mí, eres una Mendoza- cada hueso del cuerpo." ("It doesn't matter if you latina. To me, you're a Mendoza- every bone in your body.")
"Mama..." I wipe the few tears from my eyes. "I *know* I'm a Mendoza, Mami. But-"
"Te quiero, Eva. Always. You just do what you need to do, but please, don't forget we do love you."
"Buenas noches, Mami."
"Goodnight, Eva."
13
"Hi, I was here yesterday and you left me a message to come back," I say to the receptionist in the agency.
"Oh, yes, hang on one second." She dials a number and tells me to sit down.
Do they have my mother's name for me? My birth certificate didn't have my parents' names listed. I got it from City Hall this morning and it had nothing on it.
"Eva Mendoza?" A burly woman asks from behind the counter.
"That's me."
"Come into my office." I follow her back into a small, stuffy office. She tells me to sit and I do. As does she. Fuck- I wish she'd just freakin' tell me what she has for me. "Why are you hear, Eva?"
"I'm trying to find my birth mother, obviously. Can you help me?"
"Our files are confidential."
"But she's *my* mother. Do you know who she is? It's… an emergency." I lie.
"An emergency?"
"I… a few months ago- found out I-" hopefully, I'm a good actress. "Have leukemia. And- my parents tell me I'm adopted and-"
"I'm so sorry, Dear."
"I need bone marrow. Chemo didn't work and- this is my only shot." I start to cry a bit. Damn, I'm good. I need the information she has in that fuckin' file. "I just… if I need a court order to-"
"No. Here," she says. "I could lose my job for this, but-" she hands me a piece of paper and I look down at it.
Jessica A. Warren.
There's an address with it too.
Jessica. A whole bunch of things flash through my mind. Going to graduation and saying, 'This is my mother, Jessica Warren.' Jessica. I was going to be Eva Warren. Or maybe it wasn't Eva- maybe she didn't name me. Maybe to her I'm Alice, or Laura. Maybe she doesn't know I was a girl. Maybe I'll knock on her door and say, 'I'm your daughter' and she'll laugh and say 'I always thought of you as Michael.'
"That's the address we had for her. But that was twenty years ago."
"Do you know- *why* she gave me away?"
"No. I'm sorry. Good luck."
"Thanks," I say as I leave, staring at the piece of paper.
I get in a cab and give the driver the address and thirty-five minutes later, he pulls up in front of a nice looking, modest home. This is where she lived? I guess I always thought of her as being some seventeen-year-old poor girl with no money to raise a kid. But she lived here?
"Thanks. Can you gimme five minutes?" I ask, paying him for the ride and five minutes. "If I go in, just take off."
I walk up to the house. The grass is really green on the lawn. I could've played there. She could've thrown water balloons at me when I was four. Ohgod. I'm shaking as I get to the door. I ring the bell and stand there, nervously rocking a bit.
"Can I help you?" The older man says. Ohgod- what if she doesn't live here anymore? I mean… what are the chances she's still in the same spot, right?
"Yes. I'm- looking for someone. Her name is Jessica Warren. She used to live here. Do you know her?"
"No. Sorry. We just moved in two years ago."
"Oh. Okay- thanks." I try not to cry as I turn. DAMMIT.
"Who is she?" He asks.
"My mother," I answer before running for the cab. What the hell am I gonna do now?
I wanna- I *want* Marshall. I want him to hug me like he does after we have sex, when our bodies are still slick with sweat from hours of sex and I'm laying on top of him and he's just holding me.
But- I can't have that.
So I tell the cabbie to drop me off at a diner. "Got a phone book?" I ask the waitress as I take a booth. I take it and start looking up Warren's. Five pages of them. Fuck.
It's gonna be a long afternoon. "Can I get some coffee?"
And this is assuming she didn't get married.
I start with the 'Warren, J' entries first- but after fifteen calls- there's nothing. No one knows her- of the people who were home.
Can we say needle in a haystack?
"Yo?"
"Hi. I'm trying to find an old relative- Jessica A. Warren, do you know her?"
"No. Sorry."
"Thanks."
One more down. About two hundred and fifty to go.
Four gruesome hours and about ten cups of coffee later… there's nothing.
"Do you know her?"
"No. Sorry, Hon. Good luck."
"Thanks anyway."
What if she's been waiting for twenty years to find me? Ohgod- what if her parents were like mine and *made* her give me up? And it's been twenty years with this big huge void in her heart- waiting for me?
God. This is so hopeless. I'm never going to find her and I've still got too many left.
<Ring. Ring.>
I glance at the caller ID and smile. "Hi, Babe," I answer.
"Hey you, what's up?"
"You didn't call and I-"
"Been busy."
"You okay?"
"Jessica A. Warren."
"Who?"
"My mother."
"You found her?" He asks surprised.
"No. Just her name. Been calling all the Warren's in the phone book and-"
"And LA's got like five phone books."
"I'm never gonna find her."
"Want help callin'? You could come over and Dre's got the phone books- so… we could all help."
"You don't-"
"I *want* to. Come over. Okay?"
"What about Hailie?"
"She's sleeping at Chloe's house tonight."
"Whose?"
"The little girl from 8 Mile- Hai's at her house. They're friends."
"Oh. Good. Yeah- I guess I'll be over."
14
The first thing I do when he opens the door?
I slam into him and bury my face in the crook of his neck and I'm *so* happy when he wraps his arms around me tightly and holds me close to him. I inhale the scent of his aftershave and just… I *love* his arms around me like this. It's usually better when we're sweaty- but…
"Hi," he whispers in my ear.
"Hi," I answer back, before taking a step away from him, but his arm is still around my waist, resting on the small of my back. "Sorry, I just-"
"It's *o* *kay*," he says, kissing my forehead softly. His fingers graze over my bare skin that the low riding hip huggers and short top expose.
I kiss his neck softly and playfully nibble his ear before whispering, "I want you, Marshall." One of his hands slips underneath my shirt and pulls me toward him a bit more. I tilt my hips just a bit and rub against his penis a bit. I feel him start to react to me. "Thought of you last night-"
"YO! MARSHALL! SHE HERE YET?"
Fuck.
"YEAH!" He screams back and kisses me softly before pulling away. "C'mon. Let's go make some calls."
"You want me to cream all over his furniture?" I ask.
"No. I want you to remember why you're here," he says with a wink. "And *maybe*… later, we can…" He raises his hand and makes a crude gesture involving his index finger and a small circle.
"Fine. C'mon. Let's… find my mom."
I walk into the dining room and- "Ohgod- you didn't-"
"Would you stop *sayin'* that? If anything- we're all friends. And friends help friends," Em says. They got four cell phones on the table with the five LA phone books, already opened up to the Warren section. In the center of the table are two bowls of chips, a couple packs of Mountain Dew and a plate of vegetables and cold cuts.
"Please, help yourself," Nicole says. "Thought it might be a long night- so…"
"Thanks," I say, sitting down next to Em. And the phone marathon begins. We start at six o'clock and munch our way to nine o'clock.
"Jessica A. Warren- do you know of her?"
"I knew a Janice Warren."
"Thanks anyway," I say, hanging up and dialing the next number.
What if she died? God- what if I'll never get to meet her? What if she was a thirty year old with cancer?
I feel Em's hand cover my own and he squeezes my hand a bit. I look over to him and he half-smiles at me. That sympathy smile people do.
What the hell does *he* know?! He *knows* his mother!
At least one book is finished. I grab the next book and open the Warren section and start at the beginning. Warren, A.
"Hi. My name is Eva and I'm trying to locate an old friend, Jessica A. Warren. She lived in Beverly Hills twenty or so years back and she-"
<Click.>
"FUCKER!" I scream and throw an empty soda can across the room before realizing it wasn't *exactly* empty. "Ohgod- I'm sorry!" I jump up to help clean up.
"It's okay, don't worry about it," Nicole says.
"Not the first time," Dre comments.
"God! This isn't FAIR! That person just hung UP on me! Couldn't even ANSWER my question! Fuck that! I'm gonna call back!"
I dial the number again. "Hello?"
"Hi. My name is Eva. I just called. I'm trying to locate Jes-" <Click.> "THAT'S IT!" I dial the number again. All I want is someone to ANSWER me!
It rings and rings and rings. "Hi. This is J. Ally Warren. I'm not in right now or just don't feel like talkin'. Leave your name and number and I'll shout back later. Bye."
This time *I* hang the phone up.
"What is it?" Em asks, touching my shoulder.
"I think that's her."
"What? How?" He asks.
I think it is. 'Swhy she hung up. Jessica A- Ally- Warren. But why would she… hang up? What if she was in trouble?! What if she had to leave me behind and run for her life? What if she was in the witness protection program and didn't want me exposed to danger?
I place the phone on the table and look around. "Thanks… for all your help. But… is it stupid?" I ask, turning to him. He takes my hand in his. "Is it stupid to think… to hope that it's her?"
"If it is, and she hung up, maybe she doesn't *want*-"
"No. There's a reason. She's… scared or- I don't know. But… it's *her*. I *know* it is."
15
The ride here was quiet. And now we step into the elevator and he's quiet. Sometimes, I think I know what he's thinking and then other times, I have no idea.
"How come you don't wanna meet my friends?" He asks and I guess I *really* didn't know *that* was comin'.
"Huh?"
"How come you never wanna meet my friends?"
Did I miss something? "What?"
"You never wanna meet my friends. Why?"
"When the hell did I say *that*?" I don't think I did… I mean- "If it's anything- *you* don't want me around your friends."
"I never said that," he says.
"Didn't have to," I say. "We fuck. It's what we do. We don't go to dinner and hang out."
The door opens and I start to walk out but he catches my arm and stops me. I turn to him as he says, "God- I really fucked you up, didn't I?"
"You *do*. That's the point, ain't it?" I ask with a smile.
"*Stop* that," he says.
"What?"
"Stop treating me like all the others."
"*Fuck* you," I say and yank my arm out of his hand. That was a slap in the face.
"EVA!" He jumps in front of me and doesn't let me by. "*STOP*," he says, securely grabbing my shoulders. What the fuck does he *want* from me?
"Fuck you, Marshall- I *haven't* been treating you like all the others. You think I'd *ever* let them come inside me? You think I'd ever *swallow* them? Or *call* them again?"
"But you DON'T call me! I always call *you*."
"So whose fault is it then? That I don't know your friends? Always callin' when you're alone- what did you *want* me to think?"
"You were always sayin' that you never wanted to bother me when I was busy- I assumed it was a brush off," he says. "Fuck- I'm… I didn't wanna *push*. I know you've got…"
"Issues?"
"I *want* you to meet my friends. I wanna introduce you to the guys. I mean… I *talk* about you so-"
"What do you say?" I ask, taking his hand and walking down the hall to my room. "Besides the sex being great, I mean."
"No- I said it's out of this *world*," he corrects.
We get to my door and I unlock it and look at him. "You comin' in?" I mean… I know I asked if he wanted to come *up*, but… I don't know if he just wanted to make sure I got here okay.
"Thought I *was* invited in," he asks with a smirk.
"You're *always* invited *in*," I say glancing down his body suggestively.
"So let's go out to dinner tomorrow- to a club or somethin'… you game?"
"You *know* the press would- I mean… god- I'm twenty years old, Em. And-"
"I don't care," he says.
"How can you-"
"Because I *can*," he says, stepping closer to me after I close the door behind us. "Because I don't go out and get spotted too much. I'm careful. They only got like… 5 pictures of me and Kim and that's *it*. And even if someone *gets* our picture- who the fuck cares? None of their business."
"Em-" I protest his words even as his mouth is softly pressing wet kisses on my neck. And I *love* when he kisses me gently enough but still sucks on my skin a little so I can feel his tongue press against me ever so softly.
He talks such a good story, but-
"I don't *want* a fuck friend," he murmurs under his breath. "I want *you*."
His hand slips under my tank top and I *love* when he wraps his arms completely around me and rubs the sides of my breasts like this. I press my lips to his and seek his tongue with mine. It's slippery and wet and I lick it before rubbing mine against it.
As our tongues play, my hips have started to move us back toward the bed and I've got my hands on his waistband, pulling him with mine. I would *love* to dance with him at a club. Sometimes, they way he moves his body makes me think he'd be a *really* good dancer. Some of his moves in his videos too. He relinquishes his hold on me when I start to tub his shirt up over his head and grind my hips against his.
My thighs are against the bed, but he's still moving me back and I can feel his erection pressing against me- making me wet just *thinking* about him. It's almost been a week and when I was getting off last night- it just didn't cut it. Nothing compares to his hands massaging my clit like he does and nothing compares to the feel of his cock filling me.
"Shit, what do you *do* to me?" I mumble as he pulls my shirt off.
"What *do* I do to you?" He asks.
"Make me weak" escapes my mouth before I can really stop it. "Wet, make me wet," I say, while I push his pants down. Fuck- there's nothing in the world that fits like two bodies fit. It's getting a bit hot- I'm sure I'm flushing a bit and I can certainly feel the blood pulsing through my vagina, flexing and unflexing my muscles, read to accept him. And I'm not even naked.
Off goes the bra and I smash my self against him and am *so* relieved when he pushes my jeans off my hips and we fall back onto the bed.
"Talk to me," he says before passionately kissing me. I feel his hand slipping between us, under my thong before pushing it off me. We kick our pants and shoes off and then it's just naked bodies and his hand petting my sex, slipping a finger *just* between my lips so I can feel him, but not pushing one inside.
"About what?" I ask, as if I didn't know. "Huh?" I squeeze his ass and he rolls his hips toward mine. I can feel him rubbing against me. Shit. "'Bout how much I love having you inside me? How full you make me?"
"Nooo," he says, kissing my neck. "'Bout what I do that the others didn't."
"Oh," I smile and roll us over so *I* can kiss *him*. I nibble my way his chest and bite his nipples, which I know he loves- even though he always protests and groans like *that*. "'Bout how you were the *first* to come inside me? Who I *let* come inside me?"
"Yeah… why?" He groans. I sit up and he watches me push two fingers inside myself. Fuck. I whimper a bit as I fuck myself with them so my hand gets wet. "Fuck- I ain't never seen no girl who gets as fuckin' *wet* as you do- 'slike your body just… was… *made* for sex."
Maybe it was made for *you*.
Fuck. By the look in his eyes, I think I said that out loud. Fuck. He tries to shrug it off- get rid of it- but we both know it was said and I could care less right now because I take his penis in my now wet hand and start jerking him off- to make sure he's as hard as he can be and I rock myself on his thigh as I stroke him.
"Why?" I ask as he bites his lip. "Dunno. Because… I liked you. Because… you came after me- that night."
"And you slammed the door in my face."
"But you cared," I answer. "And because that time… in the kitchen-"
"Ohshit," he groans. "When you fuckin'… had me down your throat and *fuck*-" his hips buck off the bed and this is enough. He's hard enough. I hold him in place as I throw my hips down onto his. Shit.
"That time," I say as I gyrate my hips and my eyes roll back a bit. I *love* how he feels. "It felt *sooo* good when I felt you jerking inside me and spewing."
"Feels good to me too," he confesses as he slips a hand between my thighs and seeks my clit.
"Ooo," I say, my chest heaving. "Shit. You know me so well-" I say, changing the circular motion of my hips to back and forth, raising them slightly. "Know just how to touch me- and when you come- it makes me feel… full. Like… a part of you is with me."
"I love being close to you like this, Eva. When I can feel your skin around me, so soft and vicious at the same time. Unrelenting."
I throw my hands up to grab the headboard so I'm leaning over him and he's inside me at a different, deeper angle- putting pressure in new places. "Fuuck," I groan. "Shit- that feels-"
"So fuckin' *good*," he finishes. "Tight."
"Yeah." I'm amazed at how we can still find so much new pleasure in each other.
But shit- I gotta come. My whole body is on fire and I raise my hips one second only to slam down onto him. He raises his hips when I'm coming down and it feels soo amazing. Fuck. He rolls my clit between his thumb and index finger and I can't really breathe too much. All I can concentrate on is the feel of our bodies and the way they sound when they collide and the rhythm itself brings on my orgasm.
And another comes when I feel him spilling inside me. Fuck- is it *wrong* to like that so much?
Shit. I flop down on his side and he pulls me closer to him so I'm half laying on him.
"Shit- is it me… or do we find something better every time?" He asks after a few minutes, when we can breathe again.
I just laugh a bit and kiss his chest. "*Stroke* of genius," I shrug, touching his penis softly.
"Ha ha. I laugh."
He wraps his arms around me and holds me against him. It's nice. He's got nice arms. They're good arms to have around you.
I relax against him and he pulls the comforter over us for now. Shit- I love his body. I rub his stomach softly, drawing figure eights with my index finger on his skin.
"What's happening here, Eva?" He asks.
"I'm letting you recuperate for a half hour or so before I let you take me from behind," I answer.
"I meant- what's happening with *us*?"
"I *told* you- there *is* no-"
"Cut the shit. That's crap and you *know* it. Why can't you *admit* it?"
"Admit what?" I ask, propping myself up on my elbow to look at him.
"That we're in a fuckin' relationship. May not be conventional, but we *are*. Just admit it."
"We're- not. We fu-"
"STOP IT!" He says, sitting up, effectively pushing me off his body completely in the process. "Stop *saying* that!" He's *mad*. I mean… I thought he- was okay. It's not like I ever tried to be anything I wasn't.
"Marshall- I never *told* you to go and fall in love with me and-"
"And would that be so wrong if I was?"
"Are you?" I ask.
"Eva… I-"
<Ring. Ring.> My cell phone.
"Don't," he says. "Don't answer it."
I look over to where it is on my nightstand. But- it's probably my parents. And- I don't want them to be *too* worried. Do I? OH shit. I told them I'd call at eight and it's way past then.
<Ring. Ring.>
"I *have* to," I answer and grab the phone. As soon as I do, he gets out of bed. "What are you-"
"I'm leaving."
"Em-"
<Ring. Ring.>
"You can't admit it and I can't *not* care. It's not… good enough- anymore."
Oh.
<Ring. Ring.>
"¿Alo?" I answer quietly as he starts to get dressed. God dammit. I believe him. He's leaving me. Fuck- at least… I'll be able to- get back to normal. Fuck who I want and when…
"¡Eva! ¿Por qué no nos llamaste?" ("Why didn't you call us?")
"Hi, Mami. Lo siento. Se me olvidó." He pulls his jeans up his legs and gathers his sneakers and socks. "I got busy." ("I'm sorry. I forgot.")
"¿Tienes… un amigo… allá? Eva..." and she goes on- about how one day, I'm gonna get hurt- or raped or pregnant or sick and how much she wants me to see what I'm doing to myself and find a guy that can give me what I need sexually and care about and I just watch him tying his sneakers and pulling his shirt on.
I can't watch. I look down into my lap and… see the ring. "Es mi novio, Mami," I interrupt her as he opens the door, not giving me another look. ("He's my boyfriend, Mami.")"
"¿Qué? ¿Qué me dijiste?" ("What? What did you say?")
"He's my boyfriend, Mami."
Of course, not anymore, because he just left.
Part 4
Author: crazyevildru@yahoo.com
Back to fan fiction indexThese stories are for entertainment purposes only. They are completely fictitious, and the authors mean no harm to EMINEM, his family, friends, or anyone else that may have been depicted as a 'real life' character. No money was made on the fiction here, either directly or indirectly, i.e. paid advertising. In other words - it's just a bunch of shit we wrote for fun. Please don't take it seriously.