Lust.

The Wedding

Lust is the tendency to enjoy sex at all costs. Lusty people are thinking of it the whole day long. They usually have friends only of the other sex. They enjoy making love, and think it is a waste of time not making it.

Mathew was such a boy you could call lusty. Whenever he met a girl, he undressed her in his mind, and gave her an F or an N. F as in fuckable and N as in non-fuckable. Between the two categories there was a fathom, gliding shadowy one, L as in lovely. But with time the lovely ones became either F or N, though in the long run it did not matter. However, Mathew was not so stupid as you might think: he enjoyed a chat with women as often as he could..., provided that they were L. With F girls he only tried a very simple kind of conversation which let him know within five minutes if there was going to be any business with them or not. If not, his interest for them dropped dramatically, and he usually got lost with another girl or, as he used to say, with his best friend, himself.

And he met Laura. She was a curly-haired blonde, with a  hair color similar to that of wheat. Her skin color was really very white, and she was neither thick nor thin. She was about five feet three inches tall, and was smiling all the time.  Her eyes were very bright, sometimes light brown, sometimes green.

“Do you have a light?”, she asked him. They were on a wedding. Her best friend, Alan, was getting married that night to Mathew's ex-girlfriend. In fact the one who'd taken him closest he had been in his life to the husband condition, in fact, but he managed to get her out of that purpose by his one personal gift: getting another girl into his bed right on the eve of the day they were going to make the thing public. Amanda, so, was getting married to Alan that night. A&A's (or Double A's) wedding, that is.

Laura had never had anything sexual with Alan. In fact he had been her teacher at secondary school four years before. She was merely 20 and still studying at university. She wanted to  be an artist and had a gift for posing and painting.

So Mathew turned round and saw that attractive girl. In fact she was not a beauty, but the way she looked, the way she dressed, the way she moved, the way she talked and above all the way she waited for him to answer were weapons he was not ready to contest. He, the unscrupulous lusty boy, had his stupid moment in his whole life, the one minute he was totally unable to say anything funny or at least clever.
“Certainly” he managed to whisper as he produced his lighter out of his pocket.

She looked at him as she sucked the smoke out of her cigarette, and he felt something inside him was not all right. She looked like the girl you would not dare damage by a wrong word or action, for she looked so delicate.
“Thanks”, she said.

He nodded, unable to speak.

“You're very attractive”, she said. He thought there was something wrong with his ears. Usually it was he who said these things.

“Laura”, she said.

“Huh? Oh, sorry, yes, Mathew here”, he answered, advancing his open hand to her, to shake it. But she grabbed his hand and, pulling him from it, came closer and kissed his cheek.

“Pleased to kiss you, Mathew”, she said with a funny grin. “You know, I saw you from the other side of the room and I decided I had to talk to you”.

“Why is that?”

“Let's say I fancy you, Mathew”.

“But you don't know me...”

“I'm trying to...”, she replied, “though it is not a prerequisite for what I have in mind, Mathew”.

“What?”

“You'll see. But, look, I do not smoke·”, she said pointing at the cigarette she had forsaken on the ashtray as soon as she had lit it”.

“Well...”, he started.

“You don't have a wife, Mathew”.

“You seem to know a lot about me, Laura”.

“It sounds well on your voice”.

“What?”

“My name. I like the way you say it”.

“Well, Laura, I...”

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Well..., I'd...”

“Come on, Mathew, I am not going to bite you. At least not here”.

“So you'd bite me?”

“Only if you are naughty”.

“Naughty. Uh huh. I hadn't heard that word for ages”.

“Well, if you keep by me you'll see what a really naughty girl can do”, she said smiling widely.

“I'd like to see that, certainly”, he said. Now he was becoming himself again.

“Easy”, she said.

She stepped on her toes and kissed his mouth briefly. He noticed only after she had stepped back again.

This could not be happening to him. Usually it was he who invited the girl to drink something, and after a few minutes of trifle talk he came to the point, but he had never kissed a girl's mouth in such a short time as Laura had kissed his.

“Do you have anything to do tonight?”, he counter attacked.

“I think so”.

“That's a pity”.

“Why?”, she wanted to know.

“I could suggest you something if you were free”.

“Uh huh”, she hesitated”. “Just tell me”.

“But you are busy tonight”.

“Plans are plans, Mathew, till life suddenly knocks on your door”.

“You're a philosopher”.

“Oh, no, that's only common sense”.

“I see”.

“Well, I'm listening”.

Mathew took her hand and guided her outside.

“Yes?”, she said as soon as they were outside the hall. The night  was dark and the air was cool. He kissed her. She smiled.

“Mathew”, she said, “I thought you had something to tell me”.

“Yes, Laura: these are my words, this is my talk”, and he kissed her again.

This time her collaboration was evident. Se kissed him and that was evident, too.

And then, all of a sudden, she came apart from him, turned round and ran back into the hall. Mathew was left there alone, wondering what was wrong, what had just happened. For he understood nothing. No girl had been immune to his kissing before, and even Laura had shown not to be so. And yet she had vanished into the air!

“Well”, he said to himself, “the wrong thing is that she is a woman, I guess”.

He  came back to the hall, too, and got two glasses of wine and found her. She was talking to two other men, and they three were laughing.

“I thought you'd like a glass of wine, Laura”, he said.

“Oh, thanks, Mathew. But what do we do with Ron and Jess?”

“They can go and get their own glasses of wine”, Mathew said with a smile.

“It's OK, Mathew, we're coming”, Ron said as they went.

But they did not come back. To them it was evident that Mathew had made friends with her much more than they could.

“What were you laughing about?”, he said as he handed her the glass of wine.

“Oh, it's not important”.

“So their talk was not so funny as ours outside...”

“Oh, Math”, she said very serious, “shut up”.

“That's what I'd like, Laura, that you shut me up with your mouth”.

She looked at him in fury, but as he smiled, she looked around and said:

“Come”. And she led him to a table where there were several chairs, but nobody sitting near there.

“All right, Math: don't think I'm an easy girl because  we've exchanged a couple of kisses”.

“No, Laura. You're not an easy girl. But I love the way you are”.

Since that moment everything went down the hill. He disarmed her, so she resigned the lead and she just went to where he wanted to go.

“There's a room upstairs nobody knows about”, she said.

“So what are we waiting for, sweetie?”, he replied.

As soon as they entered the room, she looked at him and shook off:

“What do you want the lights for?”, she said.

“What lights?”, he said while he started to undress. Then he put the lights off.

When he entered the bed, she was already there totally nude waiting for him.

Their lovemaking was fierce, as if both of them were convinced the world was going to end a minute later. And it was true that none of them had made love like that before. Their bodies were really hot, and each one felt the other as if he or she were burning. Finally they were exhausted, and  started talking, and were doing so for two hours. Their sweat had dried out. They got up, had a shower together, made love again against the shower wall while the water gently fell on them, and after a few minutes they got dried and dressed again and went downstairs.

Some people had left. Others were talking, sitting on the coaches, And others were still dancing. They joined the latter. The background was was quiet, the music slow, and they danced for nearly half an hour saying nothing, just feeling each other, their bodies in the arms  of each other, her face leaning on his shoulder, thinking on the time they had just spent together.

He was thinking he had never met a girl like her, so active so aggressive in bed, in fact they had ended up there because she had manipulated him into making love. In fact that was what he had always tried and never achieved: getting the girl in bed at once, but he had never managed to do so on the day he first met her.  But she had done so. He felt she had used him.

She was thinking that she did not know herself. She had not made love for over one year. But she had met Mathew and had wanted to be in bed with him immediately. Her friend Sandra had first talked to her about him half an hour before she had met him. She had said he was a man whose mind was devoted to sex. She, Sandra, had also been seduced by him; and then he had disappeared. She had suffered a lot. She complained that once Mathew had what he wanted, his interest in her had dropped totally, and he looked for another quarry to hunt. Laura had been interested in that misogynist, that sex machine. It was not that she wanted to teach him a lesson, but she wanted to prove to herself that it was possible to get to that flame called Mathew and not get burnt, but put the fire off, or at least to get away from it with no scars. And then she was there dancing with him and not knowing what to do...

“Would you like a drink?”, he whispered in her ear.

“Yes, why not?”, she answered.

She was sitting on one of those short, low armchairs you only see in discos, and he soon came back with two glasses of whiskey and soda.

After a while of silent dialogue, it was he who said:

“Well, Laura, and now what?”

“What?”

“What do we do?”

“There's not much to do”.

“You surprise me”.

“Why?”

“You girls always want a relationship after you make love with a man”.

“Do they? Well, I suppose some do”.

“You don't?”

“Well, Mathew, look”, she answered. “I know noting about you. Only that you make love very well. But I do not know if I like the way you are or not. Probably there is a lot in you that I don't like. I suffered a lot in my last engagement and I won't go through that again”.

“So what do you suggest?”, he asked feeling the strong emptiness to be used and left.

“I suggest that we never meet again. It was great fun, just love making for a few hours, with no commitment. If we saw each other regularly problems would start , for sure”.

“How do you now that?”

“Sure. I'm sure. You  boys get possessive, and we girls get exclusive. A bad combination”.

“But..., you must be kidding. I want to see you again, babe”.

That's not what Sandra told me, she thought. But I think I'll give him some of his own medicine to taste.

“Well, Mathew, I'm not giving you my number. In fact I haven't a cell phone. You can give me yours, if you shall... But I promise no call in future”.

A tough one, he thought. She's the first girl in my life who can resist me...

“Here it is”, he said, giving her a little card. She read his name and phone number on it.

“Ok, Mathew Laplace. If I ever want another fuck from you, I'll call you. Now I'm leaving”.

“I'll go with you”.

“Oh, I thought you'd say that. Ok, you can accompany me only to the taxi rank, thanks”.

They went to say good-bye to the newly-wed, and all the girls in the room commented that he was so gallant to a girl.., what was a great novelty to them.

While they were waiting for a taxi to come, he tried a last time:

“Well, Laura, it was a magical night for me. Are you sure you wouldn't repeat it?”

“That's why I have your phone number, love”, it was the first time she used a caressing name on him. “Because I am not sure. If I ever decide to see you again, you'll be the first to know, I promise”.

No matter what he said to her, he saw the quarry escape in front of his nose, and all his ammunition (words and manners) failed to hit her. In the long run, a taxi appeared and he opened the door for her. He sharpened his ear but everything he could hear was:

“Good evening, sir. Please, move on, I'll tell you the address in a few minutes”.

So the taxi disappeared and he was there, staring at the cab's number plates.