They say that time's-a-healer. Me - I wonder.  When a car rusts it spreads. Sure, you can sand it down, spray over it, shine it up; but rust is a stayer. Sooner or later after a light-shower or fall, it’s going to return with a vengeance.

For me, it was a matter of words - five to be exact - and I was right back where I started. A place I had intended to forget about.  She couldn't have known, it was foreplay for Christ’s sake.

“You’re a bad boy Josh!” She gasped, as I took her hard from behind. A pang of dizziness rushed over me, amid a wave of shock. Her dark hair swished into a cool grey before my eyes, and her olive skin paled and wrinkled. My heart, already pounding, began to thud as I pulled away and flopped onto the bed. I'd worked up a sweat and could feel the blood throbbing through my groin. You’re not done yet! Not until the fat lady sings! It cried.

Shaking my head to rid the thought of the old woman, and the sex-talk, an urge to fuck the living daylights out of her swirled over me. But that would be too easy and she’d probably like it. She had pissed me off, ruined everything. I had no intention of pleasing her.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, rolling onto her back, with a look of confusion, and to my pleasure, disappointment. Good. That would do for now. Only it wouldn't. It would never do.

“Just remembered, got to see a man about a dog!” I said, sucking in a deep breath of her Chanel perfume, to remind myself the old woman was just an inconvenient flash-back.

 “What man?” She demanded, as I hunted for my pants and sweat- top. I pretended not to hear, and having spotted my blue denim jeans dangling from the far-bed post, I made a grab for them and stumbled out of the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me.

“What’s up can’t handle me... not man enough!” She stormed, as I hopped about in the hall struggling to get my left leg into the pants, and then much to my annoyance I found myself being pulled back. Back to the oak-panel door, with my nose pressed hard into its cool wood. She must have heard me give the pants up as a bad-job, because she turned her ranting up a notch.

“You weren't that good anyway. You can talk-the-talk but...”  Her voice became distant like the barking of a far-off yappy-dog, and I could feel my face grow hot with anger. That wasn't the whole deal though, there was something else. Sure she'd pissed me off, pushed my buttons, but that wasn't what had made me mad. She had extinguished our fuck-session, with lame sex-talk that brought back memories, Memories I wanted to forget. And now my mind was buzzing and I was feeling frustrated - in more ways than one.

“I know you can hear me, you fuck!” She mumbled, as the air around me began to pulse red. I sucked in a large breath of her Chanel perfume - now not so sweet -  which had made its way into the hallway. and suddenly couldn't stand it's sweet-sickly fragrance. Sweet and sickly just like her.

 You’re a bad boy Josh! A voice sneered, from somewhere in my head. A place I’d long since forgotten about.

 I pushed it to one side and reached for the brass door-knob, clutching its cool metal.

 Somebody’s going to have to pay for this, the voice continued, undeterred. You were doing SO well. Poor Josh!

“I know you’re there.” She said, kicking the covers with her feet. “Why don’t you get back in here and finish what you started!”

The pulsing in my head was getting louder. Bumping. I pressed my nose harder into the door and turned the knob, which now felt warm and sticky. I could hear her laughing and giggling the way women always do as I nudged open the door. 

“Look, if it’s about earlier I was just looking.” She says “Every girl does it”

“Looking?” I probed, unhinged.

“Sure, that’s what this is about isn’t it? You spotted the drawer open – the bedside cabinet?”

The cabinet? She’s been in my drawer, sifted through my things? I stifled a grunt, which came out as a bewildered croak. Though part of me was also amused - why women complained about stereo-type was beyond me when they were all the same money-grabbing: tittle-tattling, nosey, interfering, predictable little whores! Here was the proof. I’d caught her red-handed. Almost. She'd confessed it by accident, because the little bitch was on heat!

You’re a bad boy Josh! The voice rattled, inside my head. I pushed it to one side and crossed the room to the bed. She was sprawled out with her legs apart, the white-cotton coverlet tucked conveniently between them, in an attempt to fix an itch that was begging to be scratched.

“Find anything interesting?” I asked with a smile – pretentious of course – as I kicked the denim jeans from my right leg onto the cabinet, where they hooked nicely onto the lamp. 

“I wasn't rifling Josh... Just looking. While you were on the phone to your friend. I was bored.”  

Her cheeks  were now an attractive shade of pink against her olive-skin, as she blinked up at me with wide, innocent eyes. For a moment I felt a twinge of regret. Why couldn't I just have taken her, given her what she wanted. Tomorrow she would have divulged all to her gaggle of friends, thus giving me the Godly status I deserve.

I inspected her curves, hunting for cellulite, something to pull her up on. Something to wipe that oh-so-smug-smile from her face though there was nothing. She was... aesthetically-pleasing.

So pleasing in fact I felt something stirring.

“I’m sorry Josh” She pleaded, biting her lower lip with anticipation. I wanted her all over again but this time it was different. My head ached with traffic; the drawer wasn't the only thing she'd opened and now all sorts of crap was whizzing about my head. The old woman, somewhere amongst it all, now in full vocal swing. She was lurking,and I was frightened, and it was all this whore's fault.

“Give me it Josh, please!” She begged, leaning forwards and running five slutty-digits up the inside of my right leg.

I tilted my head and looked at her for a moment with pity.

You’re a bad boy Josh, a voice echoed.

“I'll give you it all right” I said, with a smile.

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