Falling in the citie of sins

It was more about eroticism than exoticism. I had changed of tastes, and some would say for the worse. I discovered myself sexually, at 24 years old, in vacancy. Something even more certain, I had vulgar tastes. I had never known love, as I felt in this new country, where I allowed myself to be anyone but who I had been in the past.

In fact, I didn't really think of the term ''wandering'' in the same way since I had seen this part of the country: An exotic, or erotic square of population. I was not yet in my place with these people, but everything can be learned, or almost...

By dint of pushing myself too much towards goodness, by dint of giving everything to excel in everything, by dint of living through my parents, my educators and teachers, those around me... It only made me push out of the lot of contingency. I no longer wanted to please others, I had to please myself for once. I had this adventurous side which, I believe, even if it had always inhabited me, was finally untying. How to say... I was thirsty for the night, for burning fires, for danger, for eccentricity...

I reclaimed my own freedom, which had a pronounced taste of adrenaline, but also of social comfort. I felt alone at first, in my vacancy. I wanted to create links, at any price, except that of the movie ticket of my own past, which I preferred to destroy forever like a bad thing that one prefers to forget. Only hi and too many goodbye... I wasn't ready, and my schedul neither. Now, it was time. I was violently pushed trought a tornado of feeling, doing that trip alone.

''Violence is not something that is learned, it is a disease that is transmitted from one to another''. I couldn't remember who had said that to me, but it resonated with me. Something was pushing me. I had not yet been beaten, but the force with which my family exerted on me their desire for perfection and discipline, was just as violent, and I never wanted to constrain myself to such suffering again. I will no longer be my tormentor, but someone could well manhandle me a little, to stay the course towards the heights of perverse enjoyment that was hidden behind my still mysterious gaze.

I was ready to take the leap, quite to inject myself with poisonous relations. I had to at least try to approach them, to see if these people suited me or not. I am in the citie of sins, and my carreer in relationship was about to begin.

So I bought myself some new, more revealing clothes. I wanted to attract someone and have a romantic relationship, for the first time. I had so much to catch up on. I think I'll forever feel like an adult looking for myself. With this new outfit, I created an avatar of my new self, and I was ready to go to the bar a second time. That's when I saw him...

He was silently violent. His gait, the vulgar chain belt, his phallic, unkind posture... Everything about him cried insult. His mouth parted in disgust, and his lip lifted slightly, like an animal preparing to bite. He was the leader, the boss: the owner. This bar frequented by bikers, the misunderstood, the furious, the lovers... Once again, I wondered how to approach him. He was talking quietly with another man, with a larger build, looking at me from afar. His long braid was reminiscent of the extension of heavy metal that probably still resonated in his head.

I sit down so as to let see the preamble of my buttocks, in the short skirt I was wearing. I used part of my long loose brown hair to cover the moon in my face. I invited him, while pushing him away. I looked at him, in the corner of my eye, in a way I could'nt know, I though.

I couldn't stop this buzz that was screaming inside me. Help me holy satan jesus christ! I no longer knew which god I should preach to... I thought back to the dancer in the bar I had visited shortly, and I thought that if I played on his bewitchment, maybe he would be interested in me at least just enough to take me home for a while. Only once at least.

''I licked you, so your mine'' He was so fast to flirt with me, giving me a kiss on the neck while approaching me with two drinks. One for me, I supposed. My avatar was'nt cooperating because my cheeks turned all red. I drank in one go.

When people talk about their first love, are they really telling the truth about the first meeting, how it really happened? Who marries a person who was supposed to be just a one-night stand? So many unanswered questions. I was so stressed and totally in my ''Alice hole's tought'' that I had to ask him the question again, when he asked me my name. ''Abygaelle.''

Our discussion was futile, but it was all about the eyes. I looked at the flames of the hell which took shape there; the place where I was heading while making love, even only in thought, with this stranger. Who said sex should only happen after marriage? Dear God, can I just marry him for this night? Hell don't need a blunderer girl like me, sure thing.

His hand leaning against my waist seemed on fire. His hands were so warm I could feel him through my clothes. I was no longer in introspection mode, because alcohol had given me the hope of the present moment. My body was surrounded by a magical fancy. I think the attraction I had for his attractive physique and made me believe it was love. How do you know if it was love at first sight, or simply a passing madness of bestiality that drives people on the run in the shallows of the abyss?

After a few drinks, he offered me a motorcycle ride. I accepted on the spot, even if I had never done that sport. A first time, for the first time... A few moments later, I found myself with my hair blowing in the wind, in front of all the blazing lights of this busy Vegas street. Hands in the wind, I drew with my fingers the white ribbons, invisible of course, of my wedding dress. I'm a romantic with a rocker heart.

I woke up the next day, at dawn, in a still dark hotel room. Vegas had made me a rag doll, because my whole being was still a sluggish pout, the kind of post-coital position I had never felt before. There he was, sleeping like my prince charming, with his arms covered in tattoos, and his face beautifully inanimate. I sit on the deep window frame for a moment, to watch the sun rise. Was it really a dream, or even reality?

I didn't want to leave, but I couldn't stay. I somehow saved myself. I left, on a piece of paper, my telephone number, in case he decides to marry me for another night, of course.