A/N: To those of you who are familiar with The Smiths' Masterpiece "How Soon is Now" you probably had an idea where this was going. So here it is. As I'm known for my extreme fluffiness and cuteness, that chapter made me nauseous a bit. It's quite angsty but necessary in this fic. I'd like to say 'enjoy' but I'm not sure it is appropriate here…lol.
Okay so just stick with me guys, and please leave reviews. Fantomette xoxo
Chapter 2:
A giggling blonde sat beside him. She was clad in a cheap red dress, the kind you buy half-priced at malls just after prom. Her hair was slicked into a ponytail, and bounced while she laughed for nothing. She looked near thirty years old so that was a good thing, as he had seen some women around here who barely looked twenty-one. She looked as drunk as he was, barely able to keep her balance on the bar stool. He caught her elbow, helping her sit straighter. Her answer was to giggle some more and gave him the once-over.
"Fuck. You're handsome." She blurted out.
He sat straighter. She was beautiful enough, like all the other random women he had slept with in the last decade. Somehow, the compliment he tried to return got stuck in his throat: she didn't look half as beautiful as the woman who worked on the other side of the glass walls of his office for twelve years.
"You want a drink?" he asked. "Please, give a Sangria to the beautiful lady, extra cherry," he motioned to the bartender, handing him a ten.
The blonde grabbed his shoulder, mouth agape. "OOO. !" she screamed. "How did you know this was my favorite drink?" She started to giggle. Again.
Harvey rolled his eyes. He had thought he was drunk enough for this, but clearly he wasn't. He asked for another Scotch.
"That's what I do. Not only I'm a lawyer, but I read people," he said.
"So you are part-time psychic! Do you read palms too?" she asked cheerfully.
This was going to be harder than he thought. He tried to remind himself that intelligence wasn't a prerequisite to fuck adequately.
He downed the glass of Macallan. His head was spinning. He grabbed her hand, and softly traced the lines in her palm with his index. "Hmm… let me see. I can see you will meet a tall, dark stranger…"
She giggled. He had to get used to it. She will probably giggle like an idiot when she will reach orgasm. She will not moan his name softly like Donna did twelve years ago.
He ordered another Macallan. He took a mouthful of the amber liquid while she was sucking on a cherry, batting her eyelashes at him. She was probably trying to look sexy but she didn't. Even if he was drunk, he knew he probably looked that pathetic when he was reading her palm earlier. Two pathetic lonely soul, probably trying to find some temporary bliss in their fucked up existence.
He let his hand travel on the blonde's leg, fingers caressing lightly under the hem of her dress. At least, her skin was soft. Her hand was on his crotch, fingertips massaging his manhood. He didn't even noticed it until now. He was surprised that his body wasn't even reacting to her touch. She could have stroke his knee and obtain the same reaction.
He suddenly had a sinking feeling, remembering thumbtacks, a can opener, and Donna getting undressed a few feet away from him. They never touched, not once, but he had to think about dead puppies to fight an erection. That's fucked up, he thought. Now some woman was touching him and he was feeling dead inside. Before Donna left him, she yelled that he was capable at looking at her that way, like it was some big news. She had no idea how he looked at her. No idea.
The woman's breath tickled his ear, bringing him out of his reverie. How did she get so close?
"You want to read my body in a bathroom stall, Mister Psychic?" she murmured in his ear.
"Excuse me?" It couldn't be THAT easy.
"You want to fuck me?" she asked, more decisively, her hand squeezing his crotch.
He got up. He was feeling a bit nauseous, too much Scotch. The blonde woman held his hand, dragging him towards the bathroom. Too drunk, he didn't even registered they were lucky enough to have individual bathroom. Everything was blurry, she locked the door, pushed him against the sink and started kissing him. Her tongue tasted like maraschino cherry, it made him even more nauseous. Maybe if he could get this over with quickly, that would be enough to fill the emptiness he was feeling inside? He grabbed her ass, she giggled. He tried to shut her up by kissing her more fully but she pushed him a little. "What's your name, tall, dark stranger?"
"Reggie."
He was probably the biggest asshole in this bar: he wasn't even interested in knowing her name. He wanted her nameless.
He also realized that he didn't want her to call him 'Harvey' while having sex.
He wanted Donna to call his name while he made love to her.
He was in love with Donna Paulsen.
He had canceled his appointment with Paula Agard because in their last session, she had asked him:
"By building these walls, by never making yourself emotionally available, do you realize what you've been missing, Harvey? You could have known true love."
He had gotten up, had grabbed his coat and had yelled at Paula. "Donna left! She chose to leave me!"
Doctor Agard had just smiled and had said: "…you just admitted Donna is and always was who you love, Harvey. I didn't mentioned her. You did."
"Hey Reggie. Don't let me do all the work here!" The woman giggled again. His name was Reggie, right. His hands were sloppily roaming her body. Meanwhile, blonde chick had unzipped his pants, sneaked her hand into his boxer. He had to at least try. Donna was gone. When he had her, he didn't even had her in this particular way, maybe that's what messed up his mind so much?
Even if he knew he probably went about things the wrong way, he wanted to fuck this woman for his sanity. Lately, he's been dreaming a lot. About Donna. What started years ago as a few dirty sex dreams was now on another level. This morning he had woken up to the sound of Donna's voice saying "You know I love you too, Harvey" and the image that stuck in his mind was one of their naked bodies tangled in the sheets, cuddling lovingly. He had woken up alone in his cold, empty bed and he had never felt this desperate in his whole life. It made him sick.
So if only he could fuck someone, maybe the dreams would stop? He could build some walls up again and stop hurting inside?
"What do you like?" He asked in a raspy voice. He had unzipped her dress. He didn't even looked at her body once, he was too drunk to focus and he preferred closing his eyes. There was nothing he wanted to see or remember from that evening.
"Are you going to get an erection eventually or…?" She giggled. He wanted to puke. How could a woman you are about to fuck could giggle about this particular topic?
She added. "Would it help if I gave you a blow-job?" She giggled again. Poor woman didn't realized that was the biggest turnoff ever.
His phone vibrated against his thigh, near the woman's hand. It made the woman giggled again and he rolled his eyes. He yanked it out of his pocket, putting it near the sink.
He tried to unclasp her bra. He was so drunk. He couldn't unhook the damn thing. The fabric felt extremely cheap against his fingertips. She was wearing lace but the bra stung his fingers. When he was made partner, Donna was wearing black lace, the fabric was so soft…
His phone vibrated again, the screen lighted up. He didn't look, probably Gretchen adding something to his agenda. Or Mike freaking out about the upcoming trial.
"Turn around, I'm too drunk to unhook your bra," he admitted. Giggle-girl turned around, he finally got rid of her bra. He started massaging her breasts and kissing her neck, closing his eyes. She was giggling while one of her hand was threading his hair. He hated it. If only he could get this over with. Maybe if he felt more skin he would be turned on? With one hand, he removed the wallet from his back pocket before he pushed his pants down until they pooled at his feet, keeping only his boxers on. He put the wallet beside his phone near the sink, opening it while he was still kissing the woman's shoulders. He found the condom in his wallet and placed it on the phone.
The phone vibrated once more, he took the condom in his hand and his thumb grazed across the screen of his phone. He was curious. The text messages appeared:
1/*Harvey we need to talk. –Donna*
2/* Mike's trial is coming soon…-Donna.*
3/*I have the can opener. –Donna*
Just reading Donna's name gave him a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"Hmmm. Do you feel kinky or you want me to turn around?" asked the blond woman who still had had her back pressed to his stomach.
It felt like a cold-shower. Or like hitting a wall. He was standing in a dirty bathroom stall, trying to fuck some woman he didn't even want to fuck, while he could barely get an erection. Because he wanted a particular redhead with every fiber of his being.
He grabbed the woman's shoulders turning her rather abruptly. He was drunker than he thought and feeling awful. "This isn't going to work."
She was now facing him, and she cupped his face in her hands. "Reggie. If being in this bathroom is turning you off, we could crash at my place…"
His phone vibrated again on the counter. He shot a side-glance at the screen and read:
*U there? We could do this soon. Or now.-Donna*
"Are you married? Is that your wife calling you?" The woman laughed nervously. She was still the most annoying woman he had ever met.
He shook his head and swallowed thickly. "I'm really not married, totally single. That was just work calling…"
She opened her mouth, she was probably going to ask him for some sexual favor that would increase his nausea. He stopped her before she talked. "Sorry. I suffer from anxiety, I'm taking meds and I drank too much. I'm not going to get an erection tonight. It's still early, you still have time to find someone who will appreciate you way more than I can right now."
He zipped her up. She looked confused.
"So you are saying…I mean…c'mon." Giggle-chick was drunk and trying to process what just happened. "You looked so lonely at the bar earlier. And you are telling me you're gonna leave on your own, go home and feel lonely again? We could go back to my place and…cuddle."
He felt a wave of nausea coming. He lurched forward and vomited into the sink, shutting his eyes as he made the water run.
He didn't even turned around. He begged. "Please. Just go."
He heard the door clicked behind him and he reached for the handle, locking it.
The water was still running. For the first time in more than a decade he felt tears running down his cheeks and falling into in the sink.
He grabbed his phone and reluctantly called Ray.
Then, he texted Donna:
*How soon is now?-Harvey*