Clockwork Romance

by Andy Mandela

  “Let me ask you this. How eager were you to start officially dating each of them? Was it right away, or did it take a while so you could get to know each other first.”

  I knew exactly what she meant, even if she didn’t. She wanted me to give an answer so that she could apply it to our won relationship. She wants to know if I’ve liked her from first sight or if I started to like her once we got to know each other. I tell her, “Does it matter? If I want to date someone, and I feel like they want to date me, why put it off?”

  “I feel like you prefer to rush into relationships. Maybe you’re either eager, or you’re afraid to be alone, not that I’m presuming anything.” Maybe this wasn’t going the way I thought. She continued, “How long before you date someone did you meet them?”

  “I can’t say for sure, but I don’t think it was long. That might be why I haven’t ever held onto a girlfriend for more than a few months.”

  “See there?” she said. “Now take me for example. We’ve known each other for about a month, and I’d say we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well, right?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Are you suggesting…”

  “I’m not suggesting anything. Who says people have to date anyway? My parents were best friends since they were kids. Sure, they may have dated a few other people throughout the years, but one day I suppose, they just decided to get married. They knew each other better than anyone else and I’m sure they loved each other. One day, my father realized that he wasn’t going to find anyone better, so he just proposed. They were best friends for almost fifteen years. My mother told me it was when they first made love that she knew they were meant to be, which I’m guessing was before he proposed. And they’ve been married for twenty-six years.”

  I told her, “Isn’t that how old you are?”

  “Yup,” she answered. “I was the product of their first time together.”

  “Is that what influenced your father to propose?” I asked.

  “Apparently, no. My mother didn’t know she was pregnant until after they were engaged. That must have been a pleasant surprise.”

  “Surely,” I responded. “So are you trying to say we should stay friends for fifteen years, then get married? “

  “I’m not saying that,” she said with a smirk. “I’m simply illustrating that dating isn’t necessarily a vital ingredient for a successful relationship.”

  “So what would you call a vital ingredient, then?” I questioned.

  “The first things that come to mind,” she said, “would be the obvious ones in any kind of relationship. Trust being the most important one to me. Then love. The feeling that you couldn’t spend the rest of your life without him or her.”

  “Her?” I said.

  “I was speaking in general,” she clarified. “But I suppose in this case, I could have meant it personally as well.”

  “You’ve dated women?” I asked, very intrigued. Now I’m starting to think those rumors at the bar could possibly have been true.

  “I’ve never dated a woman, but I have… been with some. Do you want to hear about them?”

  I didn’t want to make her think I was a pervert. Maybe she was testing me. “Only if you feel comfortable sharing with me.”

  She smiled. “I think we should probably build up some trust first. Maybe some other time I’ll indulge you. Maybe some time, I might… show you.” We both looked at each other as if we were now having a subliminal conversation. After a few moments of silence, she spoke again. “Do you know why I haven’t had a boyfriend in the past year or so? I mean of course you wouldn’t know since you haven’t known me for a year, but I’m just asking, could you guess?”

  “Uh,” I said, trying to think. “Have you just been around women?”

  “No,” she answers, laughing again. “It’s because I haven’t met anyone worth dating. I’m not gonna fuck a guy within the first twenty-four hours of meeting him, which apparently how most men think nowadays. I guess that’s just another reason why I haven’t dated in a while. Oh, by the way, I just thought of something else to go with trust and love.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Honesty. And right now I want to ask you something and I want you to be one-hundred percent honest.”

  “Okay,” I told her. Hopefully, her question won’t be something too difficult.

  “The very first time you saw me… what did you think?”

  Here is a question I had no problem being honest with. I said, “The first thing I noticed, obviously, was how beautiful you were. I had, uh, been through some pretty rough relationships and I wasn’t all that eager for another one. I actually assumed you already had a boyfriend. At least until, you know, I found out you didn’t. After we got to know each other, I thought you were cool, but getting you into bed was nowhere in my mind. I like to think of women as people, or at least I try to. You see, some of my girlfriends weren’t very trustworthy. But I guess that can be with anybody, regardless of gender. However, I’ve been hurt by some of them. But I suppose you’re right, I think I did rush into those relationships before really getting to know them. That is probably why they all failed. I haven’t thought about that possibility until tonight. However, once I met you, or at least got to know you, I knew there was something different.” I felt like I was rambling. Actually, I felt more like I was at a psychiatrist’s office, lying back on a big comfy chair. I was glad Kimberly chimed in when she did, or I would’ve started talking about my childhood.

  “What did you think was so different about me?” she asked.

  “For one,” I said, “you are a hell of lot more interesting than most people I’ve met, more intellectual than most people I go to school with, and plus, I like your tough, no-nonsense attitude.”

  “Well that one is just around the guys, to show them I’m not the average bar slut. I can be sweet when I want to. I’ve actually been taken advantage of, too, in the past, which is why I’ve been trying to acquire a more dominant attitude. It kind of helps me get over my past. My ex-boyfriend used to beat be, which is why I had to get these.” She lifted up her sleeves to show off her biceps. They were actually kind of impressive, but I’ve never noticed them before. I’ve noticed her arms, but they just looked like regular female arms. I didn’t know she was strong.

  I said, trying to further the conversation, “I’m wondering where exactly this is going to lead. Because if we both already know, then there’s no need to keep on with meaningless banter.”

  Without any hesitation whatsoever, Kimberly said, “Go ahead.”

  “Do you want to date?”

  She looked at me with her hazel eyes and said, “Yea.” She gave a big smile and then started laughing. I joined her for a second.

  We didn’t spend the night together that night. The people at work knew we were a couple by the way we were acting with each other. It was good that our relationship didn’t affect our work habits. We were able to keep that in check.

  The first time she stayed in my apartment was when we had sex. It was about a week after we began dating. It was lovely, mostly due to the fact that Kimberly was the most beautiful girl I had ever been with. At the time, I just thought of sex as a normal part of dating. I didn’t know that it could alter the entire course of a relationship. That’s yet another reason why I’m trying to be careful with Karina, like I need to reiterate that once again. After the first few months, I had returned back to school. I believe it was the beginning of my second year. I was taking twelve hours, just enough to be considered a full time student. By this time, I had left The Braxe to focus on school, and in this instance, also on Kimberly.

  We knew so much about each other. However, Kimberly is the only girlfriend I ever had who didn’t know I was a drug dealer. Still, our relationship managed to come to an end. We lasted until December, two weeks before Christmas. Things began to change back in the middle of October, though.

  We had been dating for over three months, officially making it the longest relations
hip I ever had. Our sex was becoming less passionate, and rougher. We began to do things that I’ve never done with any of my previous girlfriends. One day, when we were going at it, I had her from behind and she screamed at me, “I want you in my ass!” I obliged her, though it was the first time I had ever done anal. Strangely, I had never asked her for it. Yeah, I’ve sometimes pondered the thought, but I never asked her. I had some kind of feeling that we were probably going to sooner or later, since our sex was getting more and more rough. As I was putting myself inside her, she had her rear end stuck up in the air, and her chest, face, and arms, placed firmly on the bed. I didn’t go in too far, for her breathing was becoming more rapid.

  “Am I hurting you?” I asked.

  “Just a little. It’s okay, keep going,” she returned. I thrusted faster while she screamed with both pleasure and pain. I remember that so well. I think there was a week where she wanted nothing but anal.

  Then came Halloween night. It was a little before midnight and we had just gotten done watching a horror movie on cable. She came up with the perfect excuse to get me out of her apartment for a few minutes. We hadn’t even been drinking, yet she begged for me to go the store and pick up some beer. Initially, I didn’t want to go, but she begged and begged, so I went. On my way back, I had no idea of the surprise Kimberly had waiting for me at the apartment.

  As I walked, she was not in the living room, and the television was off. I called her name. I headed to the fridge to put the beer up, when I heard Kimberly call from the bedroom, “Put up the beer and come here!” I walked down the very dim hallway, only briefly lit by the lamp sitting in the living room.

  “Is something wrong?” I called out, still slowly making my way down the hallway. I was just about to open the door when it was opened for me.

  Kimberly stood there, wearing a black garter belt and fishnet pantyhose with a red corset and black panties. I looked at this goddess before me, unbeknownst to me that that’s the name in with which I’d be referring to her.

  “Do you trust me?” she asked. I didn’t notice she had her arm behind her back.

  I was confused, but I answered, “Of course I do.” She brought me into the room, shut the door, and told me to turn around.

  “Put your hands behind your back,” she told me. I complied, feeling the handcuffs being locked around my wrists. I couldn’t help but to smile. This was something else I had never done before, and I loved it. Tonight, I was going to give myself to her. She turned me back around, and as soon as I saw her face-to-face, she said, “Sit.” So I did.

  Without wasting any time, she pushed my chest, making me fall into the bed. Kimberly climbed on top of me, and started to grind on me, even though I was still dressed, and she… sort of was.

  “You like that?” she asked

  “Yeah.” She grabbed my cheeks, her thumb on my right cheek and fingers on my left, and sternly said, “That’s yes, goddess. You understand?”

  “Yes goddess.” She mildly slapped me afterwards. She proceeded to take all my clothes, leaving me with only my shirt on. She noticed I wasn’t fully erect yet, so she said, “What’s the matter? Why are you soft? Am I not hot enough for you?”

  I told her, “I’m sorry, goddess.”

  “I said am I hot enough for you?” she demanded, slapping my thigh.

  “Yes you are, goddess.”

  “I don’t have to be hot for anyone, especially a little piece of shit like you. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes, goddess.”

  “You know what? Maybe this will get you hard for me.” She turns around and positioned herself in an almost sixty-nine position, except that she kept herself hoisted up. “I want you to smell those panties. I’ve been wearing them all day just for you.” I sniffed her, but she wanted more. “I want you to smell them right! Breathe them in and don’t stop until I say.” She smothered her butt into my face and laughed, just like a maniacal villain would. “Had enough?” she said, raising her rear end off me.

  “Yes, goddess.” I really did want more.

  “Yes? What do you mean yes? You don’t like my ass in your face?”

  “Yes, goddess. I do, goddess.”

  “You sure you aren’t just acting like it?”

  “I’m sorr—. “ I said. That was all I could get out before she smothered me once again.

  “Shut up,” she said, laughing. “Oh, look at this. Is this turning you on, pervert?” She noticed that I had grown to my fullest length. “Say you’re a pervert,” she ordered.

  “I’m a pervert, goddess.”

  “Say you’re my pervert.”

  “I’m your pervert, goddess.”

  “Good. Now I think you deserve a reward.” She climbed off me and stood at the foot of the bed. She took off her panties, then wrapped them around my hard on. She climbed back to her previous position with her pantyless rear end hovering over my face once again. “Now I think I want you to pleasure me. What do you say?”

  “Please, goddess.”

  “Please and what else?”

  “Thank you, goddess.”

  She slaps my thigh again. “What was that?” she asked.

  “Thank you, goddess,” I say louder.

  “That’s better, now lick.”

  This goes on for a few more minutes, when she decides, “You know what? I think I want to lie down.” She climbs off, grabs me by my shirt, and says, “Get up slave. Now get on your knees.” Now I was on my knees at the foot of them bed, facing the bed. She grabs her phone, then lays on her stomach with her knees just at the edge of the bed, with me in between. With my hands still cuffed behind my back, she says. “Go ahead.” I continue to pleasure her while she plays a game on her phone. Occasionally, she would tell me I was doing a good job, or that I need to do it better.

  As far as the rest of it went, we eventually got to “have sex.” But I must say, it was so much fun getting to explore new things. We continued to do this over the next month or so.

  At first, I was really into it, until she started becoming more and more dominant, wanting to have sex as often as possible. It drove me crazy, since we would normally have sex maybe two or three times a week. Now I seemed like every day, sometimes multiple times a day. We didn’t always do the mistress/slave routine. We tried having normal sex, but I knew she felt that it wasn’t the same. We both knew something was missing. Other times, she would let me be the one in control. She called me “master” during those times. This is where it started messing with my mind.

  During our regular lives, Kimberly started to act strange. She tried ordering me around, trying to emasculate me. Sometimes, I had to remind her that we weren’t in the bedroom. By early December, I started getting a feeling right after we finished making love, more specifically, right after I finished. I felt like I wanted to be nowhere around her. I just wanted her to get out. It had gotten to the point where I could only think about her negatively when I wasn’t around her, like I just wanted her out of my life. But once I got home, and I saw her, all I wanted to do was have sex with her. At that point, our relationship had become entirely physical. Her personality changed, making me feel like she felt the same way about me that I did about her. But I couldn’t leave her. It was like being with a demon with the body of an angel.

  One day, I had so much resentment, I didn’t think we would last another day, and we didn’t. She was trying to say something to some extent, when she said something that really set me off.

  “Be a fucking man, Luke!” she screamed.

  After that day, we’ve never seen or spoken to each other again, but her influence seemed to still linger in me. I believe she had desensitized me and robbed me of feelings. After Kimberly, I no longer wanted to be in a relationship, just find a girl for a quick time, and then have that be it. That’s precisely what I did for the next year and a half. I can even remember the first time I told a girl to get out, right as we, or should I say, I was finished.