We decided to meet again at a mutual friends house, and soon drowned our past in bottles of liquor, as was our custom. The party gave us enough publicity to dial in our emotions and be civil, at least for a moment. The night went smoothly, and our intoxication soon led to giggling and playing grab-ass for a couple of hours. The self-induced heaven I maintained was an amazing effort on my behalf, emotions in check, brain on hold. Of course, the sexual tension that always surrounded my Angel and I kept me going, “Hell”, I thought, “if nothing else I’m gonna get laid”. That seemed to get me through many nights with her, and, if I sorted them out then, I’d see what really was wrong with us. It’s entirely possible to live in my head, not checking the facts or figures or any reality whatsoever. But so goes this dance and regardless of logic and pain, which never added up to a positive, the door shut and in the darkness, our hands found each other. I breathed her in great gasping breaths, like a drowning man, breaking the surface a moment before unconsciousness. My hands ripped her shirt near off, her nails left tiny blood lines of passions anger. Our bodies moved so smoothly, wet with perspiration, sexual excitement, and hunger. As we satisfied our lusts with our fingers, our mouths, every part of our body became a playground, things that some considered taboo, seemed to possess us. Closing my eyes to the music, swaying with her sounds, wet and sighing sounds of desperation and passion. The light from the new day showed the results of our play. Clothes were everywhere, the mattresses separated and laid crosswise displaying the crumpled sheets and suggestive pillows and silken ties. That’s when I saw it, as she rode on top, driving herself on me with hard strokes of still drunk love, a glint swung from her neck, a glimmer of gold, a spark of diamond dancing just above my face. I’m sure she forgot she was wearing it, a symbol of her betrayal to me, a sign of success for her, his necklace pronouncing a conquest of my Angel. Yanked from passion, I couldn’t stop, I really couldn’t move, hypnotized by her sex, and violated by her betrayal. Oh dear God, my heart is stopping, I can bear no more, my mind drove itself to these newest depths of darkened morose pure and unadulterated pain. She saw it on my face, my tightened jaw, not from an orgasm, but, and she knew it quick, from that necklace. I could barely breathe, my throat dryly gasped out, “Why? Why would you wear that here with me?” But that was my Angel, that is who she is, no thoughts of anyone but her, no understanding of the repercussions of her curiosities. I was the fool. I made this whole thing up in my mind, I created the “us” from my own fantasies. She merely rode the ride, the ups and downs being a thrill of entertainment and nothing more. My reality, merely a fantasy, an old man wrapped in the make up and pretty things of her young world.