The Nothing Man - A Parable

If there is one thing that you need to know about me that is that I always get what I want and want what I deserve. Well, that is only fitting for a queen, and all my friends call me Queen B. I am sitting on a chair right now next to the bed in my bikini briefs and a cut off t-shirt. My eyes are slowly etching the contours of a sleeping man sprawled out naked under my Ralph Lauren bed sheet. The first rays of the morning light lust around the man's magnificent form. To be honest, I do not know if labeling him a man is totally fitting. Sure, biologically that description holds up, but the term man, meaning someone who provides one hundred percent responsibility for his own existence, definitely does not apply to the person in my bed. After all, he is just one of those bad boy jock type sophomores that populate en mass my high school, the type that the sophomore girls go crazy for? I must admit that I, being a more sophisticated senior, do feel a pinch of guilt for my actions seeing that the person sleeping in my bed is the boyfriend of a sophomore girl that admired me. But after all, I am her queen and it is only fitting that sacrifices to me are made, especially from the young, sweet girls who, I know, secretly covet my crown. Plus, this girl was savory sweet, making the taste of her boyfriend's salt especially tempting. As you know, and more importantly, as she must learn, I am used to getting what I want and wanting what I deserve, and I deserved him, at least for a night. Plus, seeing that this boy was a less worldly sophomore, the conquest was ever so easy for your Queen B. So, I felt very obliged to pick this lowest of hanging fruit.

A tuft of blond hair cut in a typical jock fashion rests on my fluffy pillow. His head is turned away from me and I cannot see his eyes. I am very curious to see his eyes again because, to be honest, I forgot what color they are. No matter, I was never very much into eyes, the gateway to the soul and all that. That that was never the that that turned me on when it comes to men. There are other thats that I find much more attractive. However, it is really a pointless thought, for his eyes are closed anyway. But mine aren't. My eyes move down his long neck to the upper half of his marvelously chiseled and smooth chest perched free above the jealous covers that steal the pleasure of my sight from his lower chest on down. Nonetheless, I can still ascertain the edges of his body through a combination of thin sheets and wonton memories: his muscular legs, his ripped stomach and his bulging... well I am too shy to name that part but I find my eyes spending the most time there! Like I said I always get what I want and want what I deserve.

It is almost laughable to use the word shy in connection to your Queen B in general and to him and me specifically. For no one was shy last night! I do not know if what we did last night could be called making love, but the one thing I do know is that we fucked - please excuse such a crass term, but only that word contains the image of dispassionate rawness and animal lust totally devoid of any inhibiting emotions, the very characteristics that I am trying to convey by using that nasty word - and from the tenderness of my insides this morning, I would say we did it many, many times. I don't mean to boast, but I really brought out an Oscar winning performance last night. Well, maybe I am going to far, for Oscar winning actors actually feel the things they are acting out. I must admit, last night I felt nothing. But that wasn't the point. Looking at the poor boy's bulging eyes and hearing his moans of pleasure, almost bordering on whimpers of total subjugation, while I rode him hard and he pumped me harder from below, but knowing that the hardest thing out of this tryst will be for him not to think about me the next time he does his little girlfriend, assuming that peasant is even grown-up enough to do these grown-up things, now that was what this was about. I did not want to fuck his body, a fuck his body will never forget by the way, but I wanted to fuck his mind, NO I wanted to fuck hers. She needed to understand her peasant place next to her Queen. They all should understand that they exist merely to give me what I want and deserve.

As I sit eying my beautiful prize, I can't help but notice that this morning is especially quiet, almost too quiet. Only the sound of a single dove coos sadly in the distance. I can't help but sensing an odd feeling of loneliness tangled in the early morning light, the very vehicle facilitating my victorious voyeuring. This is a strange feeling seeing there is someone who I shared the passions of the night with only an arms reach away. It's so cute how he is sleeping like a baby, though. Last night looks like it is doing wonders for him, and why not, I am that good! So, why isn't it doing anything for me? My eyes feel full but my heart still feels the same - empty. The only difference is that a flurry of manic sexual energy is not temporarily filling this hollow void with its liquid sensations. Funny, why are tears now obscuring the view of the thing I gloriously conquered? Surely, I am being to hard on myself. It's not easy being queen and sacrifices must be made so order is maintained. I should find consolation in the fact that I always get what I want and want what I deserve. However, as I watch this boy sleep, I do wonder if it is possible to get more. Maybe I should have bothered to know the color of his eyes. Maybe I should have noticed that certain endearing grin or alluring glance that I am sure he shares with his girlfriend. You know, that specific gesture that plays out in the memory when the one you love is not around, and then causes the heart to stir and life to feel fully lived when he is. No matter. Since I get what I want and want what I deserve, I will simply take it when he awakes, which should be soon, unless I rode him into a coma last night. Like I said, I am that good.

Fortunately, the latter calamity fails to materialize, for my little boy stirs. "Good morning sweetheart, how did you sleep?" Only the twinkle of his pale blue eyes glistening in the morning light responds. He greets my salutation with the cutest cracked smile I have ever seen, a smile that awakens the soul to the possibility of wholeness. I see now why his girlfriend is so attached to him. Funny, why didn't I notice those eyes and that smile before? No matter, I notice it now. And as you all know about me by now, I get what I want and want what I deserve.

"You look hungry. Let your Queen B give you the nourishment I know a body like yours needs." I slip in bed beside the boy. I am shocked by how the heat from his body pierces through my being branding a mark of love upon my virgin heart. My arms wrap hard around his torso, my legs vice around his thigh and my pelvis gyrates into his. I slowly wet my lips with my tongue and gently close my eyes. The darkness of my mind is lit with the image of his pale blue eyes leading me into the depths of his soul. Like a happy child following a mysterious trail of rose petals, I follow, prostrating my soul on what I feel could be a path to fulfillment. I cock my head and slowly position my lips to press his. For the briefest of seconds, I open my eyes. A look of satisfaction washes over my face because, as usual, I am going to get what I want, for what I want I deserve and I do deserve to love this boy. When I go to press my lips upon his, the boys entire body crumbles under the wait of my desire, turns into a swirling funnel of ash that exits on its own accord out the open window, leaving me in a twisted ball of anguish and emptiness on the bed, inexorably and forever alone. I do not know if I got what I wanted this time, but I know I got what I deserved – used.