Sorry for the long wait, so much things to do, so little time! All right, poll of the----months in this case

This time it is about that story that I am writing. As we all know, most writers are prostitutes who write about things they think other people want to read. Well, let me get some feedback, huh?

I try to expand on the lives of other characters in my story (Lila, Gerald, Phoebe), and I attempt to give them depth. For instance, I don't make Lila completely horrible, she's just a girl too pretty for her own good. And I don't make Gerald either a Saint or a Devil, he's somewhere in between. As for Phoebe, I think the poor girl deserves some happiness in life. Now the question is: Do the readers actually care what happens to the other characters or are you all more like Helga/Arnold/nobody else matters, types of people?

If you care........A

If you don't care.......B

If you kind of care but not really.......C

If you care but you just don't like certain characters:

Lila, that stupid bitch has to go, I don't care that pretty people have feelings too....D

Gerald, he's got two girls in love with him. He needs to make up his damn mind about which he wants.....E

Phoebe, enough said......F

What about made up characters? Which of the following statements do you agree with?

Noah, he's too stupid to be endearing and too cute to be repulsive....G

Jonathan, has he ever even been in this story? He's always talked about but he's never actually there, bad move, Writeress, bad move......H

Chapter 8

It was a hot Wednesday afternoon, and Helga's life officially became a bleak succession of moments. She was uncertain of the date, or of the time. It didn't matter to her; nothing mattered to her. For minutes she lay on the bed, drenched in sweat, looking up at the slowly moving ceiling fan above her. It turned and made her quiver, the heat penetrated her from within. This was what she'd gone to, lying nude in bed, smoking a cigarette. Arnold's head was resting on her inner thigh; his eyes were closed. She knew he wasn't sleeping. He was only trying to escape waking up, looking her straight in the eye, and realizing that she was but a phantom of what he really wanted out of life. He was the same to her, or maybe he wasn't. Helga no longer knew what he was. All she knew was that she needed him, she craved him with ever fiber of her being. She was addicted; she was pathetic. Nothing mattered to her; she was ready to throw her life away for beastly emotion. She couldn't help herself. At first, Helga called it indulgence, but now she knew for certain that she was gorging.

She was gorging on his sexuality, on his rough touch, on the feel of his hard body against hers. She was gorging on not having to pretend, on not fearing of shocking him. She liked that she could fight him, bite him, hurt him, and expect the same from him as well. She liked that she could fight a war in bed and get two satisfactions in one package, physical and emotional. With him, she loved being the loser as much as she loved being the winner; she loved it when he abused her as much as she loved to amuse him. She knew that someday they would kill each other, and that was the very death that she preferred.

Helga thought about Noah, sweet, innocent Noah. Just the thought made her quiver, his awkward, vibrating body, his kind eyes, his soft voice. It all repulsed her to the highest extent until it had gotten to the point where she was ready to do anything to get but a moment of peace. She wanted him out of her life; she didn't want him there, never wanted him there. But he always remained the same pesky little insect, the same housefly that continued to buzz into her ear. She would have easily gotten rid of him, had it not been for Arnold and her mortal fear of being alone.

If she had left Noah, she knew for certain that Arnold would lose all interest in her. In truth, for what other reason in the world would he want her? In bed, while inside of her, he would constantly remark on all the reasons why he would never wish to be with a woman like her. How she was the most hideous of all creatures on earth, and on how he pitied any man that was ever going to love her. An ordinary woman would leave him for that, but Helga was no ordinary woman. She loved that Arnold hated her, she loved it because, on some level, she always hated herself.

She liked that he didn't love her. She liked that he wasn't ill with emotion towards her frame. She liked that he did not shower her with compliments or petty comments. She liked that he could hurt her and not care. She liked that she was allowed to be cruel. She liked that she could speak to him without restraint. She liked that she could be funny or sardonic, and that when his flesh rubbed against her own neither felt any true fulfillment. She loved that they were never innocent, and didn't have to be. She liked that she did not need to lie to him, as a result lying to herself. She liked that she could exhibit all bad habits, all bad manners, without the fear of being judged. She liked that she could see him for what he was, a heartless beast who called himself a man, and that was what she wanted. She liked that he would never care if she cried or offer a shoulder when her wounds were too deep for self-sustained locomotion. She loved it with all of her heart, and she was never going to lose it.

Time began to mount up on her. She told Noah that she wanted to stay in her hometown, he, being the weakling in her eyes that he was agreed. The two quit their old firm in England and began working for a new, less successful one in town. Though they were still in a large amount of money, their ambitions no longer soared high. Helga no longer thrived on competition, she no longer cared that she was neglecting herself, neglecting her fiancee, or the wedding day that was being pushed back for weeks, and eventually months. Helga didn't care about anything any more. Only one thing mattered.

She believed in satisfaction, fast, brutal, quick satisfaction. Her world revolved around Arnold's long, stiff axis. In this new order, human beings were not born to love, they were not born to hate, they were not born to feel anything at all except for an instinctive urge to mate with the fittest, with the most appealing member of the opposite sex. Helga was born to fuck and then regret it, and she was perfectly content with that.

"You're not asleep," she sighed, "Stop pretending."

He opened his eyes and looked at her, "You're smoking in my bed."

"Yes," she admitted.

"You're going to destroy the sheets," he said, not moving.

"I know," She nodded, extinguishing the cigarette into an ashtray next to her, "but who cares, you're going to throw them out now that I lay in them anyway, right?"

He paused, studying her with a strange look, "Right."

"So," she continued, "What were you pretending to dream about?"

"You. It was a nightmare."

She chuckled, "Was I an enjoyable pillow for you?"

"Worst night's sleep I've had in years."

"Worst night's sleep you've pretended to have in years," she corrected him.

"What can I say," he said, "it's pretty bad both ways."

He began to kiss up her body, over her breasts until his face came in close proximity to hers. They stared at one another, unsure of what to do.

"You're allowed to kiss me if you want," She sighed.

"Would you mind if I accidentally threw up all over you?"

"Nah," she shook her head slightly, "I get thrown up on all the time."

"You look like it," he said, pressing his lips against hers and burying his tongue inside of her mouth. His hands dug into her body and she vibrated underneath his touch. After a long, drawn out moment of liplock they finally subsided.

"You didn't throw up," she said.

"The shock got to me," he replied.

She tried to push herself out from underneath him, "I have to go now."

"Go where?" he asked as he watched her awkwardly hop out of bed.

"Where do you think?" She asked, putting on her bra, "Home to my husband dearest."

"He's not your husband."

She paused, staring at him, "Not yet."

He fell back on the bed, "And suppose you didn't go?"

"Didn't go?" She asked, dressing in her blouse.

"Suppose I didn't let you go."

She sighed, annoyed, "I would go anyway."

He got out bed, putting his strong arms around her shoulders and smelling her hair, "I'm not letting you go."

She smiled, trying to pry out of his arms, but it didn't work. She tried harder, moving her thin body away, laughing hysterically, as he held her, his breathing hard. She stopped for a moment, hoping to fool him, and then ran forward at the top of her abilities. It didn't work. She was overpowered by his strength. He walked back and fell on the bed, she landed astride. In this position they remained for a moment, before they started rolling on the bed, kissing one another urgently.

When it was all over, they lay on the bed, still, without movement. His clasp was hard around her, she could hear his heartbeat.

"Arnold," she whispered.

"Yes?"

"How can you do that?" Helga suddenly felt the urge to know.

"Do what?" he asked.

"Do that," she paused, "hold me so close like that---" she stumbled, "as if I mean something to you---as if you're afraid to let me go."

His fists suddenly clenched and he opened his mouth, wanting to say something but he stopped himself. It was almost as if he had to fight against himself as he pried open his arms and got out of bed.

"Maybe it is time for you to go."

She lay on her side, leaning her head on her hand, "Yes," she said, "It is time."
Arnold was in distress. After she had left he found himself feeling strangely. It was wrong that when he was with her he could not trust himself. He was holding himself back, lying, trying everything only to keep her from understanding the truth. Then again, he, himself, did not understand the truth. Suddenly, he was itching from within. He needed to see her again, see her in long continuums, even in intervals. He needed her there constantly, because only then did he feel like he was truly alive.

But why did she make him feel this way? What was it about her struck such chords within him? It was no secret that he wanted her, he always wanted her, he was born to want her. What was a secret to him was why. He never understood the connection he had with this woman. She was just an ordinary woman, much like all the women in the world. What was she besides that? Some girl that he went to school with, a girl whose heart he once broke, a girl that, somehow, beyond his peripheral vision, transgressed into a woman fully capable and willing to break his heart.

He was invited to a benefit, some obscure cause that had little importance in the elite gossip section of all the city magazines. It was only well pronounced that everyone who was anyone was invited. FBH, Inc, Arnold's firm, was the most powerful in the city. As a top attorney, Arnold was hunted with invites. Helga, as well, would be there. He knew that for certain because he had seen her name on the list of invitees. Lila was invited as well due to her husband's importance, but for 'personal reasons' the couple was unable to attend. For weeks Arnold's invitation lay untouched on his desk. He did not know if he wanted to go. It was a night of promising boredom. Nonetheless, he felt a sudden inclination, and at that moment he knew that he had to go, he had to go and see her. He had to see Helga. He had to convince himself that his deepest fears were not coming true.

He stood inside of the building, crowded with dashing men in tuxedoes and ladies in their posh gowns. But in this world nothing attracted him, nothing except for the hope that she would show up. He walked the room of banquet tables for minutes, fearing that he was out of luck and without a date at one of the social highlights of the year. Luckily, his fears subsided when he saw Noah walk through the door, hand in hand with the most beautiful woman Arnold had ever seen in his whole entire life.

She stood tall in her red gown, gently hugging her body. Her pale, porcelain skin provided an intense contour of her waist as her thin, wavering arms fell across her body. Her head was slightly raised, as her soft blonde hair fell across her bare shoulders. Her large, clear blue eyes shone throughout the room and her soft lips, colored in light red lipstick, gently curved up to reveal a beautiful smile. Arnold was penetrated, perplexed, and at that very moment he loved and hated simultaneously.

She spotted him across the room and looked away immediately. She hid in a crowd of people, restraining herself from his view. He sighed in desperation, knowing that as long as Noah was by her side, he had no chance of isolating her all to himself.

"Arnold," he felt a light hand on his shoulder and he turned to see Lila.

"Lila," he said, "I thought you weren't coming."

"Oh I decided to go," she sighed, "no use siting at home."

The truth was that Jonathan didn't want to miss out on a chance to mingle with potential clients.

"It's very spur of the moment," Arnold smiled.

"Yes," she sighed, "I know."

An awkward silence followed.

"So," Lila spoke, "is Gerald here?"

Ordinarily, Arnold would feel jealousy, hate, spurn. Ordinarily, his mood would be ruined and he would feel utterly desperate. Yet, somehow, he no longer cared. It was Lila's life, it was Lila's heart. But he didn't want it anymore, he didn't care. She had slowly waded out of his life. He had fallen out of love with her. Suddenly, Arnold realized that Lila was not reality. She was a but a dream he had once had. He remembered what she said to him that dreadful night on the rooftop.

"You don't love me---" She said that night, "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."

He struggled against that, and suddenly he understood that she was right. He couldn't have loved Lila because he didn't know Lila. In truth, he didn't know any woman he had ever been with or cared for. Any woman save one.

And then he remembered something else she said that night.

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."

And suddenly, his secret was revealed, suddenly he understood the pain he felt within, the confusion, the exasperation. He understood everything and he cursed himself for not seeing it before. He was in love with Helga G. Pataki, madly, hopelessly in love.

"Look who it is!" he suddenly heard a familiar voice. He turned and saw Noah, with the same sweet smile, and the same hopeless innocence. Next to him stood Helga, reluctant to look up into Arnold's eyes.

"We were just looking around and I saw you," Noah laughed, "You won't believe this pretty little lady's laziness, she didn't want to walk across the room to greet you if her life depended on it. And then I said to her, 'Where are your manners' and she said---" he continued to blab on.

Helga stopped following his words. She was too deeply consumed by Arnold's penetrating gaze. At that point he knew that she needed to speak to him the same way that he needed to speak to her.

"I'm going to go on the terrace and have a smoke," Arnold cut in.

"Oh I'll join you!" Noah exclaimed.

"No!" Helga quickly cut in, "Darling, I know how much you dislike cigarette smoke. You stay here with---" she pretended not to know the beautiful redhead's name.

"Lila," she provided.

"Lila," Helga continued, "All right?"

"All right," He smiled, kissing her on the lips. At that moment Arnold wanted to kill him, but he restrained his emotions.

The two quickly walked to the terrace.
The terrace was empty and the evening was warm. The sky was clear and you could see the blurry outline of the pale, glorious moon shining above them. The bright lights of the city overshone the stars. Light zephyr rubbed against them, and it served as a sort of aphrodisiac.

"We can't do this anymore," she was the first to speak, "we're going to get caught sooner or later."

"You're making it sound like what we're doing is criminal," he said.

"It is," she nodded impulsively, "to a man like Noah it is."

"A man like Noah?"

"He's never going to forgive me for this," she leaned on the terrace, "if he finds out he'll never forgive me."

"That little monk in there?" Arnold laughed, "please, he'll forgive Satan."

"It's wrong for you to talk like that," she said calmly, guilt in her voice, "you and I can only hope to be as good a people as him."

"Never use 'hope' and 'him' in the same sentence, the man is hopeless."

She turned to him, and he could see her eyes were wet. She was crying. Instinctively he walked to her and encased her in his arms. She buried her head into his chest and sobbed gently.

"It's okay," he whispered into the crown of her head, "It's okay, don't cry."

"It's wrong, Arnold," She whispered, "it's wrong and I know it. Why do I continue to do it? Why do I do this to myself?"

"Helga, there's nothing wrong with---"

"Everything is wrong. Noah is the only man that's ever loved me, that's ever cared for me. What am I doing with you? What am I thinking?"

"Helga-" he tried.

"No," She shook her head, looking up into his face, "don't you understand? I am going to die alone, I am going to grow old and regret this moment, and every moment that I had ever spent with you."

"Is that it?" he asked bitterly, "Is that how you feel about me? You regret every moment?"

"No," she cried, "No, that's what bothers me, that I don't regret any of it, that had I had the chance, I would do the same thing over again, without any hesitation."

"I don't understand---"

"No, you don't understand! You don't need to understand. When you decide it's time for you to settle down, it will all come easy. But I'm going to lose everything and never gain it back. I can't let that happen to me, Arnold, I just can't let that happen."

"What are you saying, what do you mean?"

"I mean," she paused, "I mean that I can't throw everything away for someone who doesn't care about me, someone to whom my existence is of no importance. I want someone to love me, Arnold. I know that sounds---"

He did not let her finish, he pulled her face up to his and kissed her intensely on the lips She melted underneath his grasp, she found her body shaking again inside of his embrace. It was the first time he had ever kissed her this way, and she knew it was the last time. She was going to tear away from him, run away, go back to England, never look back again. She was going to marry Noah, start a family, try to drown herself in life and never think about Arnold again. She was going to do all that in a moment, just another moment, just another second to spend with him before a crushed eternity.

"Helga---" and it was over.

The two broke apart and looked at the entrance. There, with a look never exhibited before on his face, stood Noah. If he had only come a second later he would have missed it, he would have pretended to be blind, pretended no to see anything. But he was there, it was staring him in the face, and as much as Helga couldn't lie to him about it, he couldn't lie to himself.

"Noah!" She exclaimed but he had nothing to say to her.

He turned and quickly paced back into the room. Helga began to run toward him until Arnold grabbed her, trying to calm her emotions. She shook relentlessly in his arms, trying to pry herself lose, trying to get out of his grip, out of his life.

"Let me go!" She screamed.

"Only if you calm down."

"Fine," she said, stopping, "I'm calm."

He loosened his grip and she quickly ran for the door again. He grabbed her by the waist and spun her around, "It's okay," he said, "who cares if the dickless bastard left."

"I hate you," was all she could utter.

With all her might she slapped him across the face, catching him off guard. He released her for a moment and she sprang into the room, too fast for him to get to her. Arnold watched her disappear within the crowd.

There he was again, standing with a wound too deep to mend, completely alone.