Repetition

The first time it happened, you didn’t remember much of it.

It was a regular old Friday with the boys, drinking and partying and getting absolutely wasted on the nearest drop of alcohol in the area.

Except you weren’t in the mood to get drunk this time around, so you settled comfortably in the bar, taking sips of your beer and enjoying the show of your friend trying—and failing—to get together with that one chick by the other end of the bar.

Until she sat beside you and ordered an old fashioned.

That’s when things got blurry.

She asked for your name, you gave it to her. It slid off her tongue like it was a shot of her drink.

You asked for hers. And that is where you fucked up because the moment she said it, you let the devil in to your life.

Yeji.

You’d already forgotten that you were supposed to be the wingman for your friend. You’re too engrossed with her to get up from your chair and help, not when you’ve swapped your beer out with shots of vodka and she’s giving you that look that is simply entrancing.

And that led to you neck deep in trouble, locking lips with her somewhere. You only remembered neon lights. It’s probably when she left that hickey on your neck.

You recall her pushing you into a stall—you don’t know if this was the men’s bathroom or not—and giving you the best damn head of your life. You can’t even remember where your load went.

Could’ve been on her face, she might’ve swallowed it. Or both. Both would’ve made sense.

You’re positive you fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror, watch her face scream rapture every time you bottom out. Left her a glowing mess at the end of it by giving her another dose of your cum, letting it drip down her legs and the dirty tiles of the bathroom.

After that was a mess of memories that left you waking up in your bed with nothing but the smell of her on your bedsheets.

(The bed smells like peaches everytime you fucked.)

The second time it happened, you remembered every single thing.

You didn’t try to find her. Didn’t try to contact her in any way. You didn’t even try to relive the moment because of how wasted you got.

You simply go back to the same mundane work routine till the next night out where you all settled for a different club—well, it’s more of a dive bar this time around, but you’ll be having alcohol in your system either way.

Which gets derailed when you spot her sitting by the bar (again) with a glass of whisky (again).

You took a seat next to her, ignoring the sounds of encouragement from your group, and ordered a beer.

She spared you a glance and wondered if you remembered her. You kept quiet.

You took a sip of your beer and asked if she always hangs around in bars. She didn’t say a word.

The music drowned everything out. The bartender, your boys, the beer you’ve been nursing. All that was left was her, even when silence was the only conversation you two had.

She left with an unfinished glass and a note left on a tissue paper.

Found her waiting for you at the entrance of some run down motel. You go in, booked one for the night, and she dragged you straight to the room.

Yeji had you against the door the moment the door closed. She tore a piece of your shirt trying to get it off of you. You ripped her stockings back in return.

You told her you’d get her another shitty pair. She choked you in between her thighs when you ate her out.

You found out she liked watching herself get pounded when she took a video of her getting bent over the bed. She also liked having cum on her face.

So you went two for two inside her cunt instead.

Yeji got pissy about it the first time you did. She stopped when you sat her on your lap, bent her in half, locked your hands around her neck and dicked her down again.

Your next load painted her. You felt your body get weak when she cleaned you up after licking your cum off of her.

She swallowed your last one. Grabbed your ass and forced every inch of you down her throat. You felt every gulp when you had your hand on her neck.

You slept on dirty sheets that the both of you didn’t bother giving a shit about.

You woke up early, left later than intended. Her fault considering she demanded another round while cleaning up.

Good thing the front desk was still empty or else you would have paid extra.

She told you she’d call next time.

The third time it happened, you got Yeji’s call.

You answered. You met. You fucked. You went your separate ways.

The sixth time it happened, you took her out for dinner.

Not anywhere fancy. She craved something quick and tasty. You treated her to a burger and fries by that one fast food place you tend to eat at.

You spent hours at one of the tables, eating, talking. It was a good change of pace.

Until she thanked you with head in the bathroom.

(It was always sex with her.)

The ninth time it happened, you felt things become complicated.

It was the first time she gave you a kiss on the cheek. The first time you wrapped your jacket around her when you met up.

First time she invited you to her apartment. Had pizza, watched Netflix. She fucked you on the couch halfway through whatever movie you watched.

She started to call you ‘baby’ during sex. She never said your name before that.

She even invited you to shower together afterwards.

(You have the date marked as your first date with Yeji.)

The eleventh time it happened, you got to fifth base with her.