Chameleon On a Kaleidoscope (The Oxygen Thief Diaries) by Anonymous Page A

as she smashed her pussuq down
onto my cock like she was trying to kill something. as she began to
exhaust herself on my midriff I gathered her to me and waddled
ankle-panted across the floor to lay her down there so I could more
easily feast on her. But I wasn’t allowed. Springing back up on her
bare feet she bid me kneel and immediately began pummelling me
mercilessly with spat-on hands like some sexual
laborer.
    “ Come
on, give it to me.” It was as if I was withholding her property.
Until then it had seemed too rude to unload the contents of my
loins at a girl l but from the look on this girl’s face it began to
look like it might be insulting not to. Three white arcs loosed
themselves into the void between us. The first two disappeared out
of view but the last clung like a smile to her heaving breasts. I
bayed like a dog at an imaginary moon and w e hugged for so long after coming I felt like we’d been
stirred together like milk in tea. No sugar. And because she
was unavailable it was ok to fall in love with her.
    “ Come on, be
honest, wouldn’t you be a slut if you were a girl?”
    The question didn’t seem
fair because everyone knew girls just didn’t think like that. But
here was a girl, a beautiful girl asking me a question that
demanded the reorganisation of everything I’d ever thought about
women. I was suddenly seized with a desire not so much to have her
but to be her. I was jealous of her freedom. Her power. A
great looking girl could fuck anyone she wanted. Surely such power
was intoxicating. She was like a guy in a girl’s body. Girls
weren’t supposed to think like this. Maybe all girls thought like
this and Valeriya was just willing to admit it. She accused me of analysing everything and pronounced
it anal-ising . I couldn’t tell if this was because English was
second language and therefore a coincidence or whether she had
effortlessly out-punned me.
    “ If you were
a girl wouldn’t you be a slut?” she repeated the question as if it
was a natural progression from what she had just said and in the
full knowledge that I was defeated I conceded reluctantly, that
yes, I would.
    “ Well there
you go.”
    She
said this like it explained everything but all it did was confuse
me even more. She saw herself as a slut? She knew how to
adapt to whatever conditions presented her. It was classic
behaviour of abused children. We learn how to keep the peace at the
expense of our own needs. We merge into any given situation. When
two chameleons successfully take on each other’s hues there is
nothing there. Supplying her with a list of film contacts was
laughably easy for me but I resisted until the last moment in the
vain hope that she might say she didn’t want them. That she loved
me. That I was what she wanted. I knew that as soon as I sent that
email it would conclude our business. Her response said it
all.
    “ I don’t know
how to thank you. Well I do, but let’s pretend.”
    Especially the last two
words.
     
    ANICA

 
    Anica was a long-necked
Slovakian systems analyst for a pharmaceutical company based in the
Hague. In the time I knew her she visibly brightened only twice.
Once when she swallowed an entire glass of whiskey in one gulp, and
once when she talked about her combat-training as a child; “I am
proficient with a Kalashnikof”
    I had hopes
for some heavy petting and a handful of arse in preparation for a
full-on-fuck which I wanted to suggest would be the following
Saturday. When she turned up that first night there was a very tall
good-looking guy close behind her so I assumed they were a couple
and I was already eyeing her up when she broke away from him and
stood there in front of me. I didn’t stand up in case I only came
up to her shoulder. She was tall, but surmountable. I told myself
that her expression indicated satisfaction with what she saw too.
This was always a tricky moment. Great care had to be taken not to
let your true feelings of nervousness or disappointment