The Parasite | Eminem

20

"You smell like gasoline" he tells me, arms around me as he jumbles with the key hole. He seem slightly suspicious, narrowing his eyes at me.

"I was working on my car earlier today... shit- I totally forgot- You mind if I use your shower?" I ask, arms around his neck as he finally gets the door unlocked, opening it behind me.
We stumble inside, almost falling but luckily gaining our balance.

"Yeah- no problem... you know how to fix cars?" He asks, grinning curiously at me.
I can do the basic shit, but if I've gotta lie, I've gotta lie.

"Oh baby, I can do a lot of fucking stuff" I tell him, smirking.
That's open to his horny interpretation.
However, I'm referring to making explosives.
Glad he doesn't know about that.

"Aight, well, my shower's down the hall, to your left. I'll be waitin" he bites his lip before shoving a quick kiss to my lips.
We barely ever kiss.
It feels strange.
All of this does.
Oh well, it doesn't matter.

I give him a seductive smirk, finding it impossibly strange.
I don't get the appeal as a man.
I'm dressed like middle-aged dad on vacation.

I walk down the hall, heading into the small bathroom.
It's got that old purple tile situation going on.
I pray for a short instant, hoping he has both hair wash and shower gel.
I ain't fucking with no three-in-one shit.

"Thank you" I sigh, staring at the bar of soap next to the two-in-one shampoo and conditioner from Old Spice.
I'll let it slide.

I strip down, out of the clothes I made sure to put in my car the day before making the Napalm. They don't smell that bad, but I'll spritz them with a couple sprays of his cologne.
I bet that will excite something sexual in him.
He's easy to play.

I slip inside his shower, feeling horrendously cold as I turn on the water and it comes out cold for the first few moments.
"Shit, man!"
No shocker, being within a few feet of an explosion is quite hot.
I still feel everything.
Everything about that moment.
It's stuck in my head.
Until I check the news tomorrow and confirm that I'm not a suspect, I won't drop this anxious feeling.
Maybe it's excitement.
Out of all the stupid shit I've done, this is by far the best thing to get caught doing.

"She builds you up to just put you down, what a clown" I begin to sing in my shitty monotone voice.
Femme Fatale by The Velvet Underground.
Good shit.

"Cause everybody knows... she's a femme fatale" working the soap bar with my hands, I build up enough soap that I think is necessary to at least quiet the smell of gasoline.
Everything reminds me of what I did.
Everything reminds me of the anxious look Leah had on her face.
She was so terrified.
She didn't say it.
I could see it.
This was the point of no return.
This was a test for both of us.

"The things she does to please... she's a femme fatale..." I mutter out the lyrics under my breath, rubbing at my skin until it turns red.
Erase the evidence.
Erase involvement.
Erase the existence.

"She's just a little tease..." Scrubbing my hair quickly, aware of the sweat and gross chemical scent that it's trapped today.

"See the way she walks, hear the way she talks..." I utter, and I'm shutting off the water.
I dry myself off quickly with his towel.
It's not clean.
I smell him on it, but I don't really care about cleanliness.
I strangely savor his scent before folding it back up and putting it back on the rack.
He'll enjoy that, the pervert in him.

I'm quick to shove my clothes on, despite knowing he's going to pull them off again.
I grab his bottle of cheap cologne from his messy counter.
I spray two pumps on either shoulder and I'm out of the bathroom.