The Descent - Part II

Even though Kane hates me, he loves me more. I try to use this to my advantage. I try to hurt him with this knowledge and with John. John is fresh from 12 years in the joint and is enjoying cruising around with his shiny new freedom.

John is fucking hot, and on the make. He hasn’t had any sex (with women) in 12 years, and is looking to make up for lost time. I am more than happy to help with this. I fall ridiculously hard, ridiculously fast for this outlaw because unlike Kane, who is also an outlaw, and Drew, and Rico, John is still in his prime, and is gorgeous, and has an incredibly sexy ass. Kane does not really have any ass at all. He does not have back.

I let John pick me up at the bar. I let him take me out to drunken breakfast. I let him fuck me on the floor of his empty house. He is so good, I let him fly me to another state so we can fuck there, loudly, at his friend’s house. All of this against my better judgment because John is a dangerous person. And when I am with him, I am in danger too. More than usual. In my intoxicating desire to burrow underneath the soft smooth unwrinkled skin of this bad man, I throw some of my common sense out of the window. I let it fly forth from me as I work a permanently molten pussy with wild abandon up and down John’s thick shaft under a full moon.

When Kane finds out, he hates me a little more, and loves me a little more. My plan does not work. We are both damaged and more wary of one another. After awhile, Kane becomes less a part of my life, his grip on me has dissipated as I have gotten older and more jaded and more hateful of his abuse.

There is another man who becomes dangerous. Seth stalks and tries to hurt me. I have been stupid and moved in with him thinking that we would be like the younger and hipper Waltons. I did not know at the time that he is crazy. When I kick him out, he appears sometimes at my bed in the middle of the night. I am sleeping with a knife and a mallet. I am not sleeping. I do not want Kane’s help; I can’t afford the price. Instead, I go to Domenico.

Domenico is dark, scattered, a sociopath. I am able to make him my sociopath, though, so I can sleep with only one eye open when I call him to sleep with me, to protect me from the stalker.

The dark man is a passionate man. His kisses make me weak. I feel like a well-fucked languid sleek cat whenever he looks at me. And my pussy automatically begins an impromptu Kegel session. Although I own him, he owns me too. The clothes have not even come off. I continue to hemorrhage common sense.

Now, finally, I have hit bottom for me. At the bottom of the descent, I look back up at these seven through whom I have passed, each of whom has taken a bit from me. (I have given it up myself.) There are no words, they are silent. They even refuse to look at me down here. I am left to look at my own dark self and wonder. I see Ereshkigal in the mirror and she is me and I say, “You had everything you wanted within your reach and yet you still coveted this. Well, now it is yours. Have it.”

I did not know until I arrived there that I did not want it.

I foundered in the hole I made for myself for months, dying a little bit faster than the average Jane. I allowed myself for dead, so inanely cliche. Just one more junkie biker whore bites the dust. No one gets out of Ereshkigal's Underworld. That is the Law.

Then, years after we first met, I ran into Evan. He could just as easily have been any one of the seven. He was a bit of each of them. Something had happened in the intervening years, though. He had gotten out. In an Underworld ridden with outlaws, it is only a matter of time before someone breaks the rule that no one can get out. Evan broke the law, and he got out, I wanted out too, and could see now that there may be a chance.

I begged, pleaded, and fluttered around him until he finally agreed to help me. I promised the world, the world where there is no pain if I could just get out, just give me your hand. He slowly and carefully brought me back through each of the seven gates through which I had passed on my way down.

Now, the gates were unmanned. They had been abandoned, there were only ghosts. As I passed back through, I recovered that which was useful that I had given up, recovered with interest. Evan took care of me, and we nursed each other, damaged goods.

A hopeless cause given up for dead, now I am back. I am alive and stronger than I ever was before. I am a stronger wiser woman, and I hope that the next time that door cracks open, beckoning tantalizingly with its wicked glow, I hope that I remember that I know better. I've been down there and I do not want it.