I release her hands and turn her upside down in one motion. She is already too exhausted to make any response.

But on second thought, I've had her in bed long enough to sit comfortably.

I get up from her and put her with one hand on my shoulder like a sack. I get into the living room and make her lean over and support her hands on the wooden stool in front of the bar.

I catch her tightly by the hips and enter her abruptly while I hear her moan no longer from pleasure, but from debility.

Good!

I pound her pretty fast for a while, and I get out of her. I grab her hips even tighter, and this time I get sharply into her ass, clenching my teeth.

She whines, but she doesn't talk. I get out slowly, and I get again in her ass furiously. I give her strong thrusts, while I turn my head to the left and stare at her miserable figure in the mirror beside the bar.

I crank up my thrusts in her ass, and my fucking satisfaction comes true. All my repulsion from her disappears with my last strong push.

I am all into her and I finish while at the same time, I completely erase from my mind my past with her. I get out of her, and I feel fucking disgust just because I was touching her all these hours.

She rises and tries to stand on her trembling feet. She wraps her arms around her chest as if she wants to protect herself from something. She looks at the floor and swallows with difficulty.

I pour a drink and light a cigarette. I can see her through the mirror walking with difficulty toward the bathroom. I sit on the stool, and I feel so fucking satisfied, as to curse myself for having allowed them so long to suffer for her after she left.

Did she think I couldn't fuck her as other guys fucked her?

She fell out again. She was not for love, but only for fucking tearing and kicking out. If I had understood that then, I would have torn her as I tore her today.

She's so different from Reva...

Reva...

Fucking shit. Reva paid for all my shit when she didn't do anything. That night at the casino when I asked her back the money she won, she gave me her card without a second thought, which also had money of her own in it. I put her in the vault with my parents ' property and mine, and she threw it all in my face.

But Bridget did me a disservice. It's her fault that I became distrustful of chicks, and that's how I'm going to stay.

My thoughts are interrupted by Bridget coming out of the bathroom. She picks up her clothes one by one while I observe her face which has no particular expression. Her mouth is tightly closed; she hasn't said a word.

Her fucking mouth said a lot, but she found that there's always a way for someone who decides to shut her up. That's what I did tonight.

She enters the bedroom and gets dressed, making slow movements. At times she joins her brows in loathing. Her body hurts from what I did to her.

She climbs on her heels and timidly approaches the door to leave.

"Wait a minute," I stop her comfortably.

I get up from the stool and head to my office. I am completely naked without caring, and I approach her at the door.

"This is for you," I stretch out my hand and give her a check.

She lifts her eyes and looks at me. Her expression begins to change to a more pleasant one. She's such a slut that even a check with a little money is capable of making her forget the disgrace I gave her before.

Her eyes roll desperately across the little paper searching for the amount.

"Why are you giving me this, Dorian? This check is zero," she tells me surprised.

"That's the amount you deserve. Go now and find some other asshole who will add something to this 'zero'," I tell her and open the door.

She opens her mouth to say something, but there's no time. I have already pushed her out of the house and shut the door with a noise.

I walk into the bathroom like a hunted man to wash the smell of her fucking body off me before I throw up in disgust.

I lean on the bathroom tiles and let the water run all over my body.

If you're asking after what happened if I feel satisfied that I humiliated Bridget, I'll say yes. I have no power to forgive. I could not bear so long to handle the iniquity of her conduct.

It's fucking unfair to be in pain, and the other person not to give a shit, doesn't it?

It's like you've let a person drain you emotionally, plundered you in every way, and then be forced to accept the fucking pain for an indefinite period.

How fucked up is that?

                                                                       ***

Another day at work passed entirely without emotion. I don't have an expression on my face anymore. I don't laugh or cry.

You're crying, my inner voice says.

I sigh and admit it. It's true. Sometimes during the day and just before I sleep, I let the wound in my heart shed its tears.

Besides, why should I prevent it? I still love him, and his absence makes it harder. I can't pretend it's ok.

Since that day in Dorian's office, Marinell has been calling me on the phone and texting me all the time. Sometimes I answer her and some others I find various excuses to avoid her.

She knew Dorian before I did, and most preposterously, she had slept with him. She didn't act like a proper friend. I mean, why would she never tell me that?

She called me on purpose that night and took me to the casino. She knew Dorian would look out for me, and she practically passed me on to him. She knew well that he was a womanizer, but she also knew how emotional I was.

It makes me angry that she was almost certain I would fall in love with Dorian, and she didn't fall out. I knew she was cunning, but she shouldn't have played with me like that.

Her purpose was not to introduce me to Dorian so that I might forget what I had gone through with Ross. She did it on purpose to make it look in my eyes that as a good friend, she was interested in my happiness.

If that's how friends are, then how are enemies supposed to be?

Whatever Marinell did, whatever her role in all this was, one thing's for sure. I began to love Dorian when he came to take me from my house for the first time, and as if hypnotized, I followed him. The attraction was strong and immediate.

I mean, look at me. I got to the point where I can't even sleep because he was gone.

Is all this love or very strong passion that as soon as it completely plunders the heart, will it go?

These were my thoughts until I came home from court.

I walk in and head to the bathroom. I've been neglecting myself a lot because I've been in no mood lately. If I don't tidy up my appearance, I'll end up with no one recognizing me.

Hang in there, Reva. You've been through this before. It will also go away and become a memory, I hear my inner voice say. It began to take the first steps of that intolerable consolation with words that would anger me more than encourage me.

I may have gone through it again, but if I had Dorian in front of me right now, I wouldn't have kicked him out. I would hug and kiss him, even if it was the last time.

It's such a strong feeling that I can't even stand back and think about how painful the 'after' is going to be.

I wonder, would it be worth living with him again for a moment, even for the last time?

I made a sandwich in a hurry, but I didn't even eat half of it. I am so tormented at night with my sleep that when I come home from work, I feel grateful if I manage to close my eyes, even for two hours.