A Hue of Blu

Two Summers Ago

“Text me when you finish up,” Fawn said as I knocked on Tyler’s door.

“Yep. I’ll recount the filthy details for you on the Uber ride home.”

“You’re sick,” she laughed, ending the call.

Just in time, Tyler opened up and immediately pulled me inside. His hands were calloused from his construction job, the back of his tee stained from sweat.

“Mm,” he kissed me, his tongue forcing into my mouth. “I needed this.”

Of course he did. I was born to satiate. I tasted like fucking vanilla cream pudding.

His fingers circled my nipple, hardening at the touch. I made sure to wear something mesh and see-through. Tyler liked it.

“Couch,” he commanded. I did as I was told and he had me bent over in seconds, the back of his hand slapping my right ass-cheek.

It hurt. It always hurt. But I smiled through the pain. Tyler liked it.

“Can you turn down the lights?” I requested. The darkness hid my imperfections. I was perfect, with minimal visibility.

But he didn’t move. He pushed my legs apart with his foot, hiking down my skirt. I felt the pouch of my stomach droop down a little. I hadn’t been eating much. Why did I have a pouch? This won’t do.

He cupped my breast as he slipped his dick inside of me.

My stomach fat was present.

The lights were on.

He could feel it.

He could see everything.

I placed one arm over my belly, using my other hand to guide his down to my clit. He didn’t do it. He wanted my tits.

“Fuck, Blu!” he moaned.

I couldn’t feel him inside of me.

I felt the pizza from two days ago.

The salad from last night.

The water. So much water. Water for breakfast. Water for lunch.

He finished quickly, thank God. I managed to escape him seeing my hanging skin. No crispy onion straws in the salad, useless carbs, I made a mental note.

While he was disposing of the condom, I quickly yanked up my skirt and fluffed my hair. One of my buttons popped off but Mom wouldn’t care. She’d be too drunk to notice.

Tyler had been my friend with benefits for a few months now. When I turned twenty-one, we’d met at a bar on Adelaide. He impressed me with his corporate position, I impressed him with my breasts. We fucked in the washroom and been hooking up ever since.

Most nights we were both incredibly wasted. But today he insisted on seeing me sober, maybe to fully feel how amazing it was to be inside of me. But it wasn’t amazing for me.

The lights were on.

I grabbed the scattered contents of my purse and made my way to the door, sliding on my sneakers.

“I’ll head out now,” I called. Hovering in a man’s place was the worst thing you could do. How embarrassing.

“I love that about you,” Tyler once told me the third time we hooked up. “You never stay beyond your means.”

What an insult.

Why had I come back?

He emerged from the bathroom as I was about to leave, his eyes scanning my body.

“You should try going to the gym, Blu. I have a membership if you want to come as a –”

I shut the door before I could cry.

I never saw Tyler again.