One night Only

Chapter 1.

There's nothing as cold as an empty queen-sized bed, Mariam decided as she huddled against herself on the edge of her bed. The other side seemed like an infinite ocean of ice, impossible to break.

The night song rode steadily into her room, casting the furniture in a shadow. She widened her legs apart, subconsciously the feeling of death rising in her heart. Her hand crept towards her groins, beneath the thin blanket. She ducked her fingers within herself and heard herself sigh. Was it out of weariness or slight satisfaction?

Her legs twisted uncontrollably and her breasts swelled under her silk nightgown. Her breath became irregular. She bit her lips, trying not to cry.

At last, she was a little bit warmer.

I don't know why I'm doing this. Why I even think it would cure. I am sitting with Mariah and Salima on a couch in the club, sipping white wine after sharing a bottle of Malibu. Forget? Oh baby, there's no way to forget. Celebrate? What the Hell is there to celebrate? End of school. Yeah that sounds nice but what about the dark hole within me, the sudden revelation I had on Sunday?

I knock my cigarette on the ashtray then take a new puff.

"This club sucks," Mariah's voice float through my head.

"What do you expect? It's Wednesday night," Salima retorts. "No one in their right mind comes out on a Wednesday night."

"We carry bad omen."

"We can get going before midnight to catch the last train," Salima points out as if it was an answer to our lack of luck.

"Are you okay, Mariam?"

I jump. Their voices seem so exterior they barely hit me while I let my gaze fall on a guy sitting with his back towards us, wearing a Nobu shirt. I was thinking of what a loser that guy should be, wearing his work uniform to a club before my thoughts are interrupted.

"Yeah, sure. No problem."

The few dancers on the dance floor block the Nobu guy from my view. I don't have a choice but turn back to my friends.

"I'm so bored," I join in the useless conversation.

"Don't worry, next time we can go to a gay club if you want to," Mariah grins at me.

Yeah right, that. Now it's not like I tend to forget but it's not quite a reflex yet. How can you incorporate something you've just decided you might as well admit as recently as Sunday? I'm handling it badly, I fear it might be a mistake but I don't know. It's all so wearing to think about following things like this. It's almost like a principle you have to follow: you're straight, run after guys; you're gay, run after gays. I've always hated principles, I don't think I'm going to follow one now. But it's not like I have a choice. You don't choose your sex after all. But I'm blabbing. I just have this difficulty of keeping to my surrounding. Sometimes I just want to stop you know, being.

I don't know what my girlfriends think of my being lesbian. I wonder whether Mariah recalls the times she changed, naked, in my room, showing me her breasts. Or, Salima talking endless boys' conversation with me. I've coped with the two situations fine, I guess, since neither had the slightest doubt on my sexuality. Though I must admit, the first one was harder to cope with. Mariah has amazing boobs. Generous. Round. I pretty much am jealous of her boyfriends but I've never really desired her. But Sunday. Oh, how I was fucked up on Sunday. If my parents have known. I have succeeded in one single day to shatter the base of good society moral. And the outcome is a life-long revolt against Nature, for my own.

"You girls come here often?"

I regret raising my gaze on the speaker. Talk about bad luck. I don't know whether my body expresses the repulsion I feel within. The Ugliness with a capital U doesn't recoil whatsoever. I long for my i-Pod and more cigarettes. Why does Mariah have to be so nice as to letting him sit beside us? Pure puking sight in a Hawaiien shirt and shorts. Trying to show off his hairy legs?

Comes by the name of Crusher. Says he's Brazilian. Marian pats the seat next to her and I got up to sit with her. Poor Salima. Too bad. I'm not dealing with him.

"We're so unlucky," Mariah whispers to me, "Brazilians are hot and all we've got is him."

I snort.

"I don't care. I'll tell him I'm lesbian and he'll fly."

Bad news though, Crusher has friends he wonder if they can join us.

"Hope they're not as ugly as he is," I say as I knock the cigarette.

Suddenly the Ugliness move from Salima to me. Shit.

"Hey, why are you all so quiet?"

Cause I don't want to waste my breath on a puking face like yours.

"I'm just tired."

"Do you want a drink."

Okay, why not? This is what I usually do anyway when an ugly guy chats me up. Poor souls. They don't know what they're playing with. Mariah and Salima arch their eyebrows as I let myself being led by the Ugliness towards the bar.

"What do you want?

"Desperado."

Even before I could take a sip, he pulls me close. Revulsion and indignation fill my chest. Who the fuck does he think he is?

"What do you say if I invite you to Brazil with me?"

Putrid breath.

My astonishment quickly gives way to horror however when he puts his hand on mine and touches my ear with his fat nose.

"I think I'm in love with you."