Actions speak louder than words

Actions speak louder than words (I)

4 months. 4 months since you had been parted from Leon, and you still hadn't recovered. Every man you looked at, you saw him in. Every time you walked past the old apartment you shared, you reminisced about all the times you'd wake up in his arms, bodies snug underneath the warm sheets on a summer morning.

You wondered if he felt the same way, wondered if you ever crossed his mind. Though you highly doubted it, knowing the job always came first.

And so you did everything you could to get over your ex-husband, whether that was meeting other men and fucking your problems out on them or just drinking, anything would do. Yet even when you were atop of another man, you couldn't shake the image of Leon out of your mind, silently wishing it was his dick you were bouncing on and not some stranger's.

Your efforts were clearly meaningless, he lingered in your mind like a leech. Drinking your problems away didn't help because you would almost immediately think about him the next morning while your hangover turned your brains to pink mush. And one night stands were evidently not doing the trick.

Yet you did it anyway. It was all you could do. It also lets you blow off some steam, letting yourself live in the moment for a minute longer until he comes crawling back to the front of your mine, like the leech he is.

Even now, as you slip your tight dress onto your body as well as the heels that pinched at your toes painfully, you still thought about him. Hopefully you'd find a man to fuck the thought out of your mind for a night.

Taking your phone and your purse, you headed to the elevator of your apartment building, sending you to the ground floor and heading out to the cab you booked.

Palms in your lap, phone in your purse, legs squeezed together as you sat silently in the back of the cab, too dazed to make small talk with the driver. You had one thing on your mind, and that was getting a good fuck.

You paid the driver and thanked him before stepping out onto the concrete beneath you, heels clacking against the pavement as you made your way towards the nightclub entrance. The neon signs above it illuminated the crowd of people that had congregated outside, cigarette smoke and the scent of alcohol surrounding the place.

It took you a minute to get to the bar, you mentally cursed whoever owned this club for making the steps so fucking steep, if it weren't for the hand rails your ankles would be split in twos.

Finally you were at the bar, exhaling all the energy out of your system as you perched on a stool. You could already feel your thighs sticking to the leather from the sheer temperature of the club, the sweat made the air thick.

You ordered your drink, resting your elbows on the counter while you waited patiently. You were lost in thought as your eyes fixated on the bartender making your drink, merely looking in a daze as you zoned out. And, of course, it was Leon that was plaguing your mind once again. You wondered if he ever did this, if he ever came out to some nightclub to drink and fuck the thought of you away, or if you even crossed his mind at all. But a mere tap on your shoulder brought you out of that daze, and the second your eyes followed the hand that touched you, your stomach was in knots.

"Hey. S'been a while, huh?" Leon shouted over the music, eyeing your appearance with oddly no shame.

You couldn't look away. Your eyes were practically burning holes into his eyes as you simply stared. What were you supposed to say, 'Hey, Leon, I came here to fuck someone else because you're on my mind'?

"Yeah, sure has." You shouted back, taking your glass in your hand and bringing the rim to your lips as you downed it, wincing as the liquid burned your throat. But you were willing to endure the sourness, if it meant you could feel at ease around Leon.