Don watched the pale skin of a young woman glisten in the sun complacently. He noted the curvature of her thighs, how her hips were maybe a little too wide, her short a little too tight. A fleeting peak at a pink thong awakened generous heat in his body, but his sad grey eyes continued to trace the formidable outskirts of her body.
She played carelessly with some drooling, panting canine. He could only assume she would tie it up, parade it down a few streets, then take it into her inviting home. That damn dog probably felt more affectionate caresses than James would get from any woman.
A Frisbee was thrown with such vibrancy it made his eyes widen, inviting scowls as he watched her flash smiles at an animal. It was a filthy mutt who didn’t give a damn about her. Dumb broad.
She must have been around 26, maybe younger. Probably fresh out of college, where she spent time fornicating at frat parties. One could read the liberal sensibilities she valued in her movements. It was shown by the way she swayed, energetic but with no punctuality. She probably bought organic food and never said the word fag. Bumb broad.
A brief diverting glance to the sun didn’t help. Don’s stare once again focused on the woman and how she laughed.
A lot og guys said women made no sense. Claimed they were irrational and obsessive and confusing. Don agreed that they were neurotic and bitchy, but not confusing. In his years, he had kissed a girl. He had fucked a girl. But he had not once taken the time to feel the profound smoothness of her skin, to let her delicate fingertips excite him. In some ways, he resented this with every fiber of his being. In others, it was no great loss. Nothing stopped him from drooling in front of a computer screen.
He remembered Cynthia, a skinny woman with sexy his bones and crooked teeth. She wore a mane of hydrogen peroxide blond and deep cranberry lip-liner. Her skin felt like leather and tasted like nicotine. She put out on he first date.
Don imagined her, her powder blue eyeshadow and love of cocaine. Once upon a time, he thought she loved him and got down on one knee with a sincere ring. The dumb broad said yes.
He never saw her drape a white dress over her dry, aging flesh. She picked up a fondness for methamphetamine and lost her teeth, causing the engagement to be called off.
Don never regretted it. Now he could do what he wanted whenever he felt like, never having to dodge nagging as he walked in the door.
The young woman bent over.
Don wondered what it would be like to take her out to dinner, a bouquet of roses in hand and a smile on his face. She’d drink red wine that would stain her lips a seductive red and she’s melt in his arms when they kissed. Of course, when Don asked if she wanted to come inside, she would. They would fall on the couch as she giggled with excitement. His dirty hands would probe the intricacies of her tangled curls and she would sigh when squeezing his muscled forearm.
“Oh, Donald, I wish this night could last forever.”
His would watch her small pink feet arch in pleasure and they would get lost in each others’ bodies. Together, they would fall asleep as her young chest heaved heavenly.
Or, he could follow her home and wait until dark. Her dog would whine, and as she passed the door he would make his move. He would take this girl, this woman and tie her up and have his way, leaving her and her liberal sensibilities in a lifeless heap.
The latter seemed more likely, but he would never try anything. Don felt himself a coward. Women were never worth the trouble. In attempt to assuage his longing, he focused his attention on his shoes, glaring at the ground. He didn’t need the dumb broad. He didn’t even want her. He didn’t need to feel the softness of her thighs, to watch her toes curl in pleasure, to hear her say his name. The bitch who loved her dirty dog and valued political correctness could get hit by a bus walking home, killing her and her dog. Don didn’t care.
But he did. He so desperately wanted to see beads of sweat travel down her shoulder so tenuously. He wanted to possesses her body, to grab hold of it with a rough fist and wrap himself up in it.
And at once, all his thoughts turned into a knott and punched him in the gut.
The young woman looked at him with concern in her eyes, fear twinkling in her irises.
Don grunted hastily and looked around. The shame of being spotted was almost too much to bare, but he didn’t care. He glowered at the dumb broad and her dog, picked himself up and walked away.
He told himself he didn’t need her.