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The Lisa Diaries by Lisa Carver  
 

An Offering


June 10, 1999




After our visit with Dave’s friend and potential person-to-do-bad-things-with, I was silent, discombobulated, afraid of letting Dave know I was attracted to the guy (or at least disproportionately irritated by him, which is how those Harlequin Romances always start). I was also afraid of missing an experience — and of what might happen if I had it. I adore Dave and feel a fierce need to protect him, and don’t want to become a person who sidesteps anything.


    

So when Dave initially asked me what I thought of Matt, all I did was grunt, and then we just kept having sex until it was time for me to go home. But now we were on the phone, and conversation was unavoidable. “He thinks his house is so decorated,” I started in. “He thinks he’s so Bauhaus. I told Simone all about it, and do you know what she calls him? ‘That Sonofabitch Architect.’ I think it’s a really good name for him. When he bragged about how he has thirty men under him, I should have said, ‘You’re gonna be under me, Mister.’ What I feel for him, I feel for all the bosses of the world. I want to batter him with my cruel and tantalizing parts in the name of The People!”


    

“You’re very altruistic,” Dave interrupted. “Do you want to know what he said about you?”


    

“Oh my god!” I said.


    

“I told Matt about the porno booth, about Simone. He was jealous. He said that if I didn’t stop talking he couldn’t be friends with me anymore.”


    

“Wait. You never tell your friends anything about your sex life. Now you’re telling this one every detail? You guys are having some private rivalry, and you’re using me as a sword. You’re poking him with our exploits.”


    

“Do you want to know what else he said, or do you want to go read Sun-Tzu’s Art Of War some more?”


    
“Rude man!”


    

“Okay, I thought so. I said I thought you’d done everything except have sex with two guys at once, and Matt said he’d love to volunteer except he thinks his girlfriend would break up with him if he did.”


    

“What? You offered me to him? And he turned me down!?”


    

“He didn’t turn you down, trust me. Remember Matt’s Leatherman tool? He said you made him realize he’s just a Leatherboy, that he has some learning still to do. He said you have a great personality, a great sense of humor, great tits.”


    

“I do not have a great personality. I was contrary and mean. He’s just trying to be polite in his rejection. I don’t have any real desire to fuck him, anyway, I just want to make him cry.”


    

“Jesus, you really do want him.”


    

I went blithely on, moving too fast to spot the warning flag. “The next time we see him I’ll tell him exactly what would happen, in great detail, and then I’ll leave. He’ll think I’m just pretending to walk away to tease him, but I really will leave . . . What should I wear? My brown silk dress with the long collar?”


    

“Nothing. You’ll be naked.” Dave’s voice over the line was small and hurried. Like me, he was enthralled in spite of himself. And he was jerking off.


    

“Okay, maybe I won’t leave right away. Maybe I’ll tell him to get down on the ground, then I’ll take all my clothes off. He has to keep his on though — I love those clean, white, pressed shirts. And who knows what he looks like underneath anyway — it might be frightening, after a whole year of nothing but take-out food. So anyway, I’ll get on top of him naked, and he’s allowed to talk to me — that would be good — but he can’t touch me.”


    

“And where am I in all this?”


    

“You’re on the couch.”


    

“What are you wearing now, really?”


    

“T-shirt and panties. Black. Red socks.”


    

“Take your clothes off now. All of them.”


    

I did. “So, I’m on top of Matt. I move back and forth if I feel like it, then I get up and walk out the door. With my clothes in my hand. I get dressed in the hall.”


    

“You won’t be able to stop.”


    

“Yes I will! I can stop, and I will. Even if it kills me to, I will just out of spite.”


    

“Sure, but just for fun make it end another way.”


    

“The other road is the same thing — I get on top of him naked and then we leave, but this time, five minutes after leaving, we come back. I know you don’t have any experience with, you know, pleasing another man, but I just know you’d be so good at it, Dave. The way your lips are shaped . . . you don’t even have to do anything. Just part them slightly. All my hetero guy friends tell me if they ever did it with a guy, it would be you. I didn’t ask them to say that. It’s the way you look. Matt must have thought about it. But you’re his friend; it will feel so wrong to him. What a scene! I won’t even care about my own needs. I’ll give him everything I’ve ever learned in all these years, all at once. That snobby attitude of his drives me so crazy, I just have to do something about it. And you there with those lips and those eyes and those hands . . . oh my god. Anyway, so the thing is to give him such an ecstatic and bewildering night, any sex he ever has from now on will pale in comparison, and he’ll be dissatisfied, tormented by the memory for the rest of his days on this earth. Pain and suffering, that’s what’s in store for that man, pain and suffering.”


    

There was pain and suffering in store all right, but not for Matt. I had terribly miscalculated the perimeters of my freedom. I was about to find out exactly how mistaken I’d been.


    









©1999
Lisa Carver and Nerve.com