Me personally, I think all of those guys are hot. On my good days I have a thing for Josh. On my not so good days I want an older man like George. On my "have sex with me in your factory without even taking your clothes off in your new movie" days, it's eminem. But lately, after watching Spy Game, I began to notice the intense hotness of Brad Pitt. I mean, I've become sooooo(o lovesick that I'm freaking looking up the peace corps, because the bitch in Spy Game met Brad while she was helping out sick children in some country. Maybe I, too, will meet a sexxilicious spy pretending to be a photographer and using me to get to some doctor whom he needs to kill some terrorist, falling madly in love with me in the progress, and then risking his life to rescue me from a Chinese Prison. That would be the best gift any girl could get from volunteering and helping people out.

Thanks to all of my reviewers. I just have one question though---Joey--- Richard? lol

Now, for the poll

Whos a HOOOEEE????

Jennifer Lopez, she's ASS hoe ASS you can get...A

Jennifer Anniston, crazy hoe married MY husband...B

Britney Spears, makes my eyes and my ears hurt at the same time...C

Christina Aguilera, Meeeeeeeriiiiiieeee CHRIIIIIIIISmmmmaaaSS toooooo YOOOU!!!!!! *Dirty* ...D

Shakira, the girl is beautiful but she sings like me (which isn't a good thing)...E

Beyonce Knowles, "Nasty put some clothes on" you're a stuck up bitch la la la...F

Tatu, they're a European band consisting of two lesbians, who love to make out in public, sing about their vibrator, and milk the whole "Guys like lesbians" ideal for all its worth while still claiming to be feminists...G

Well, back to the story.



Chapter 6

"I love the way you smell," Noah caressed Helga's skin as they lay together on the bed. Not so very long ago, Arnold had done the same, only he commented on how he abhorred her perfume. It was refreshing with Arnold. He didn't make her feel perfect, he noticed all of her little flaws. And somehow, when he passionately traced the outlines of her breasts with his lips, and when his hands gripped at her body, she felt a sort of acceptance. He accepted her for what she was, he enjoyed her for what she was. He did not try to make her perfect. With him, Helga felt like she could truly be herself.

And then she had to go back to Noah. Noah who made her feel like a queen, who worshipped her. As pleasing as it sometimes was, she felt it was too much responsibility. Ruling a country she did at work. In the privacy of her own home, she needed honesty, not false flattery. She needed relaxation, she needed peace. With Noah, all she could do was constantly measure up to his expectations. Truly, nothing in the world could hurt her more than disappointing him. And so she lived under eternal pressure, and at this point, when for a moment she experienced something apart from it, she felt annoyed. Helga was going to spend the rest of her life with this man, but her heart longed for a little adventure. She would have to go back to England eventually, live on. Go back to her job, in which her heart no longer lay, fit into the proper social circles within which Noah resided. She would have to accept that her life would not progress any farther beyond this point and still be content with it. That would happen someday, but for now she was on vacation. She was supposed to leave for England the following week, but an unknown force restrained her. She couldn't bring herself to sacrifice everything, that night of burning passion, detached sensation, and absolutely no obligation. She felt that that night was like smoking, she knew it was bad for her, and that someday she would have to quit. But only a true smoker knows, that when you first light up a cigarette and press it to your lips, when you first inhale it, and feel the nicotine circulate through your veins, when you feel the burning shame of regret and simultaneous sensationalism, no matter how wrong it is, you cannot deny that those little moments make you the happiest woman alive. Screw consequences, screw righteousness. Leave all inhibitions at the door. This is something truly extravagant, an addiction decadent in its malice. No matter how hard you try, you can never truly release it. That is human nature, for once you are attached to something, you are unable to let go. And you can give up everything, your happiness, your future, your life, just for one of those little moments. You can kill for a little moment of bliss.

"You're so beautiful, Helga," he whispered into her ear, and she closed her eyes, feinting sleep.



The phone rang. Arnold lazily reached for it, trying to pry the object through the dark. It was one in the morning, and the moon shone compulsively through the window illuminating his path. He pressed the receiver to his ear and mumbled something angrily.

"Arnold?" but never in the world could he be angry at that angelic voice. It was like a melody to his ear, and he hated himself for the pain and pleasure that it cost him. How beautiful indeed that voice sounded, as his name luxuriously slid down the concord of her sweet tongue.

"Lila," he said attentively, "what's the matter?"

"I need someone to talk to, might as well be you."

"Talk, Lila," he said.

"No," she protested, "not like that."

"I'll be at your house in ten minutes," he said quickly jumping out of the bed.

"No," she said, "please, don't. I'll meet you in a bar at the corner of where I live."

"Is he there? Is Jonathan there?"

"No," Lila said, "Arnold, please, come as soon as you can."

He rushed through his procedure of getting dressed. There was something desperate about her voice and he longed to comprehend what that desperation was.



"Look at those stars," Lila said, staring up at the sky, "sometimes, I look up there and feel like the world is silently cradling me. Do you ever feel that way, Arnold?"

They were sitting on the roof of her townhouse, looking up at the stars, feeling the gentle breeze of upcoming autumn play with their faces.

He stared solemnly at her, not taking his infatuated eyes from her pretty face, how easily forgotten everything was when he was next to the beautiful enchantress, "Sometimes," said he.

She nodded and grinned, flashing her white teeth; "I could sit here for hours, looking up at the sky. Sometimes, I wish I was up there."

"Why would you wish for something like that?"

"Because life seems completely predictable," she shrugged, "and I sometimes wonder what would happen if I wasn't a part of it. If I could just watch silently over it from above, without getting involved, watch life without having to live. I want to be a bird," she smiled and placed her head on his shoulder

He inhaled deeply and finally accepted the element upon him as being the most natural way in which he'd felt for a long while.

"Like in that song," she continued, starting to sing quietly, "Someday I'll fly away, leave all this to yesterday."

In the hushed grim of the night her thin voice rang like a ray of sunshine, illuminating the path of passers by.

"Why live life from dream to dream," she continued, stopping for a moment to raise her head from Arnold's shoulder and with a stare of pain look up at the sky as if it was silently rejecting her advances, "and dread the day, when dreaming ends."

And then there was silence again, and from the soft sounds of her strained breath, Arnold distinguished that she was crying. He placed his hand upon hers, as they rested against the pavement, and as the night slowly kissed them with its fiery presence.

"The dreaming never ends," he said a soft word of assurance, moving closer to her on the pavement. She abruptly freed her hand and ran it through her red hair.

"Yes it does," she said slowly, "it ended for me long ago, the day I made my own future, and said goodbye to the only man that ever loved me."

Arnold looked at her, in disbelief at what she had just said. So many years he'd dreamed that she would admit his feelings were real and appreciate them for what they were, a true effigy of his affection. So many years he lived for this woman, and it felt as if, now, for the first time, those years were worthwhile. It was like working menial labor in the hot afternoon, and then, after you had somehow lived through it, being able to have a drink of water and say to yourself, it was all worthwhile.

"Gerald," she said.

It was like a knife had stabbed him, it was too painful, too heartbreaking. He felt that had he not restrained himself with all of his power, he could easily leap off the roof of the building without any hesitation. All this while, all these years, he stood by silently, waiting. But now or never, that was his resolution. He simply couldn't handle any more rejection. He simply couldn't keep his lips sealed about it any longer.

"Gerald?" he began slowly, giving her the look of a thousand deaths, "Gerald---" he mused softly.

"Yes," she said, looking at his reaction, "yes, Gerald loves me."

"The only man who ever loved you?"

"Yes," she said, "the only one."

"And then---" he stuttered, "I guess you've never taken in consideration someone else?"

"What do you mean?" she said with a lighthearted smile.

"You never considered---" he paused, looking at his feet and then up at her, "me."

Her beautiful face immediately filled with worry and she sprang to her feet staring up with concern, "Arnold, don't do this."

"Don't do this?" he asked in disbelief, "why not, Lila? Why shouldn't I do this?"

"Because---" she whispered, "It's better that way for us."

"No!" he exclaimed, loudly, profoundly, causing her to step back with a slight nervousness, "It's better for you that way---so much----easier."

She shook her head, "No Arnold, please don't ruin things---"

"Ruin things? How can I ruin anything if there isn't anything to ruin?"

She opened her eyes widely and her lips began to shake, "Arnold," she said softly, "we're friends---"

"We're not friends, we can't be friends if I'm desperately in love with you!"

"No!" she exclaimed, "You're not in love with me, you can't be in love me because you don't know what you're getting yourself into!"

"It's easy for you to say because you don't have to live with it---live with knowing that you need, you passionately desire above all things on earth the one and only thing you cannot have."

"Oh," she nodded cynically, "that's what I am to you, isn't it? A thing. What if you did get me, what then? It would stop hurting and then what would you feel for me? I know you men, I know very well. You only want what you cannot have."

"All I know is that I want you, today, tomorrow, forever!"

"Never! You don't want me, not the way I want you to want me, not the way I want any man to want me."

His face filled with emotion, "Lila, you mean everything to me, I can't live without you, I'm nothing without you."

He began to approach her, putting his hands around her waist, trying desperately to press his lips to hers as she struggled desperately within his grip. Lila violently convulsed her head, throwing it back and forth, and back and forth. He tried to reach her but he couldn't, yet his power did not let her go.

"No!" she screamed loudly, struggling in his grip.

"You're so beautiful," he shuddered, feeling his sexual drive reach a peak, "Just kiss me once, Lila," he sobbed, "Just once, let me feel your skin against me," his voice broke through his tears of desperation. "Just once let me hold you and then I promise that I'll be able to live on" he panted, feeling his hardness grow and press against her leg; "and be content with what we have and never ruin it---" he continued, whispering into her porcelain neck. "I promise never to speak to you again if you want---" He tightened himself around her, driving his fingers under her skirt, and feeling the impulsive vibrations of her thighs as she struggled against him, "I promise if you just let me hold you just one single time---" and then he breathed in harder, and he inhaled the smell of her, and he wanted more, he needed more, he needed it with a violent, intense passion.

"No, Arnold," she violently shook her head, folding her eyes and shivering from the crisp coolness of the night, "no."

"Lila-"

"NO!" she screamed pulling away, snapping him back to reality, and he looked at her, making her want to cry from the pain that she saw on his face.

"Lila---" he whispered.

"No," she repeated, softer now, "you think you're different, you think you really love me but you don't."

"But I do," he insisted.

"No," she shook her head frantically, "you don't. You're just like Jonathan. You don't love me. You love the image of me, the happy little girl that makes home life easy and can make all of your wishes come true. Yes, I think you really do love her. But that's not me. I hate to break it to you, Arnold, but you're in love with a woman that doesn't exist."

"But you do exist, you're standing here, in front of me right now!" he screamed, "I can see you, I can smell you, I can feel you."

"Maybe you can smell me and feel me," she uttered, "but you can't see me. You're blinded, Arnold, and of all the greatest things I could ever wish for you, is that you find yourself a woman that cures your eyesight. I woman who is more than a perfect package for you. A woman who has flaws that you can see, but are willing to over look because you love her, truly love her."

"I'm never going to love any woman except you, Lila," he sobbed.

She sighed, stood quietly and whispered, "then I'm sorry," before turning her back and walking away.

Arnold found himself bathed in the awakening twilight. As the sunlight awakened, so did he, as the reality of the situation sank in to him. She had gone, Lila had permanently walked out of his life. As she walked back inside, she didn't turn around once, as he extended his hand for her to return. She never loved him and she never would, and somehow, this thought was more heartbreaking than he could ever imagine. It was all over, all of a sudden, it all ended just like that. There was nothing left for him in life anymore, and he could not do anything else anymore except weep with hot tears as the bright sunrise overpowered his black silhouette.