Summary: It's a sequel to another fic, but you don't have to read it, just know that Tyler kissed Jack, then left abruptly, and now Jack's a little off kilter.
Apologies: to Chuck Palahniuk and Jim Uhls. I don't mean any harm
*****
What the hell was that? Tyler Durden - my friend, my best friend - just had his tongue in my mouth. And I'm pretty sure I liked it.
I tell myself I liked it because it's physical contact, and it's been a while since I had any of that kind. The last time I had a real girlfriend was in college, and my sex life since then has been sporadic at best.
So, I'm back at the beginning. What the hell was that? I went downstairs to find an answer.
Tyler sat at the kitchen table smoking. He doesn't even look at me as I come in.
"Hi, uh, Tyler. Why did you-- Why did we--" I couldn't say it.
"Make out?" He smashed his cigarette into the ashtray. "Dunno. Why do you eat? Why do you do anything? If it feels good, you should do it."
"So, you did like it then." Why am I so glad to hear this?
"You ask too many questions." Tyler was out of his chair and in front of me.
"I thought asking questions was the way we learned things." A smart ass comment to cover my nerves. I'm nervous because I know the best way to learn things is by doing. Tyler is waiting for me now. I'm frozen. He smiles so softly I can't help but relax.
I'm aware that my hands are on his shoulders now and I'm pulling him closer. His breathing remains even as my fingers slip in between the folds of his robe. Tyler's skin is warm and alive and I'm leaning in for a taste. I see myself doing these things and enjoying them, but yet something's off.
Tyler's heart beats calmly underneath my tongue. It worries me that his pulse isn't doing back flips. My mission, if I choose to accept it - get some sort of reaction from this man. I leave a trail of red marks along his shoulder. Nothing. As I tuck into his neck, I feel as if I should claim his flesh as my property. That way maybe I'd know what to do.
I'm not conscious of his own touches. He may just be standing there. No, his hands are around my waist, but his mouth isn't doing anything but smiling. I sigh and I'm sorry because I don't want Tyler thinking I'm upset.
Tyler notices. He tilts my face up towards his and gently says, "I wasn't sure you wanted this. We can put the kybosh on it at anytime."
Caution from Mr. Durden? Alert the media. I ditch any inhibitions he thinks I have with a rough kiss to his lips.
Now he knows and now he's wrapped around me. I'm losing clothing and control of my thoughts. The only thing that rings clear is that the heat of Tyler's body is melting mine. He's everywhere on my body at once. My mouth, my throat, down my chest and going lower.
I hear it first. The rusty spring stretching of the screen door swinging open followed by the clacking of high heels. I stop and watch as Marla Singer waltzes into my kitchen. I turn, but Tyler's already gone.
I come to the horrible realization that I'm half naked. My fingers fumble with the buttons on my shirt as my uninvited guest stands comes towards me.
"What are you doing?" She asks in a Disney cartoon bunny rabbit of a voice.
Logical explanation. Logical explanation. There are none. "Nothing. Get lost."
Her eyes survey my condition. They take in the heavy breathing and the flushed skin. There's a sly grin as she stops at my crotch. "Oh my god. Isn't there a more sanitary place you could be doing that?"
I'm not sure if it's possible, but I've just gone ten shades redder. I shift uncomfortably towards the wall to hide. "Go away, please."
Marla doesn't go away. She comes closer. The perfume's she slathered on is stinging my eyes. "I can help you out, you know."
My prostitute has a first name, it's M-A-R-L-A. "No. I do not need your help."
I push past her sneaky smile and head upstairs. Tyler needs his teeth kicked in, leaving me in there with his crazy bitch of a girlfriend. Leaving me in a compromising position by myself. Letting that crazy bitch of a girlfriend think I'm a freak. I get to his bedroom door. It doesn't open. It's locked. I bang on it for a while, but there's no reply.
That's when I see Marla's head bobbing up the stairs. "Who are you yelling at? Me?" She calls as she climbs.
I'm in my room before she can try to molest me again. It takes six minutes of pounding and cursing at my door before Marla gives up. I'm not sure if she left, but I don't want to check, just in case she's waiting for me. What I am sure of, is that this thing in Tyler isn't fully resolved, and I won't be getting any answers tonight.
End.
