Set to "Don't Look Back' By: Telepopmusik
Rita loved what control she had. Her stories, her looks, her life; everything was her own. No one had ever told her how to live; no one had ever given a shit. She'd never been in love, hardly in lust, sex was sex and she felt if you had an interest in someone, sex was just a common activity two consenting adults could share.
Her secretary, her boss, her friends, her interviewees; she'd fucked them all.
A brazen whore, they called her. But who were they to judge? Cheating on their wives, their husbands, their lovers- but they were better than her because they all had a sliver of commitment to abide by, even though half of the time it wasn't real.
It wasn't love, she was sure of it. A woman she shared her office with, the new girl, the new reporter Barnabus threatened Rita's job with- she was a head taller than Rita, with bronze skin and long raven hair that flowed to her back. Regina DeMarco; she was Italian, she said, from Naples, she said. Rita pretended not to care, but a few drinks at the Leaky on a snowy night, and soon they were in a decrepit hotel room, fucking in the dark, fingers in cunts and labored breathing filling the room, stolen kisses, whispered promises.
"I really feel something for you, Margarite…"
Rita ignores her, laying quietly next to her in the dirty, sweat soaked sheets, only for a few minutes until she found her control again.
She doesn't believe her, naturally. Rita was vain, but she couldn't grasp the fact that someone could love a woman like herself. She was pushy, rude, ignorant and inconsiderate, not to mention that she loved wrecking lives to make a living.
Rita dresses slowly, never finding the need to hurry- she was on her own time.
"Regina, stop, it's just the post orgasm talking."