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Zoe Portwood: A s$xy goddess who irritates the crap out of me.
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Her red hair spills across the pillow, the curve of her ass sits nicely between the sheets, I can see the tip of her button nose, and it’s a cute one… this woman is beautiful, from what I can see of her anyway, but I feel nothing. Absolutely nothing at all. To be perfectly honest, I can’t even remember her name. She’s just the faceless woman from last night. The woman who I talked to for long enough to get her in to bed but that was about it.
But it was just a fuck. Just another fuck that doesn’t mean anything. Nothing at all. Just like the rest of them. It doesn’t matter how many women I have been with in the last month, none of them have cleansed her. None of them have made me feel any better about the woman that I screwed back then, the one who I definitely shouldn’t have. It makes me shudder to even think about the fact that I fell in to bed with Zoe fucking Portwood.
I hated her the moment that she stepped in to the office, the moment that she took the job working with me at the technology company. I don’t know what it is but the moment I saw her I just knew that she was going to be trouble for me. I didn’t realize quite how much she was going to tear my life apart. How much she’d ruin me.
I wasn’t worried on that first day. I didn’t have any reason to be. A chick strolls in wearing harem pants with feathers in her blonde curly hair and not a scrap of make up on her face. I immediately judged her as some one who wouldn’t be able to do the job, who was too much of a hippie to be great with technology but fuck me I was proven wrong. She’s a whiz, something of a genius, and she’s really damn hard to be around. She changed me from being the top dog, eons above other people, to being just normal and I don’t like that at all.
I’m the one who dresses well, who makes an effort to be there in a suit every day, who gives a shit about the schmoozing of clients and the usual stuff that comes with business. She’s clueless, she cares about none of that, but she has a talent. A talent that I really fucking hate to admit is there. A talent which kills me every day.
I’m competitive, the best of the best, and I don’t want anyone else to steal that from me. Especially not her. That stupid bitch. I really wish she hadn’t walked through that door and taken it from me, I wish she hadn’t brought out that deep hate within me, I wish I just didn’t know her at all. That she didn’t exist.
Even more, I wish we didn’t fall in to bed a month ago. I wish I didn’t need to fuck everyone in sight to try and get over that night, to push her from my mind. I wish that I wasn’t on the edge of a stranger’s bed right now, wanting to be anywhere in the world but here, because here is very uncomfortable. And more than anything in the world. I wish that me and her having sex didn’t end in that God damn conversation at work.
My head falls in to my hands as I think about that wild night. We were both drunk and horny, she had just been left at the alter by some guy who seemed to treat her like shit anyway – not that it was my right to say anything of course – and it just kinda happened. It was animalistic, filled with hate, and hot as hell. In that moment, her body was absolutely everything to me, I loved every inch of it. In that moment only though.
But it was just a moment, it was nothing more than that. Just a stupid, blind drunk moment never to be repeated. However good it felt at the time; it was a one time thing to never happen again. Luckily, she seemed to feel the same way because there were three months afterwards when we simply avoided one another. She didn’t say anything to me, and I didn’t make any effort to speak to her as well. All was good. I didn’t even feel the need to get her out of my system, I wasn’t particularly screwing around then, everything was good.
I assumed that it was going to stay good as well. That me and her would just forget that it ever happened, and nothing would change. Not talking to her was perfect actually. It made my life so much simpler. We were both doing well a work, sometimes me better than her, sometimes the other way around. It was peaceful. I didn’t even care about her when she was winning. It was all good… until she told me something to change it all.