At least three times Oscar wanted to look back at Eliza, well he wanted more than to look back at her. He wanted to caress her mound and hold it in hand, until the tip of her slit was damp and then shove his finger inside her. He had done that to her in elevators in New York, Paris and Shanghai.
But he did not turn around, he looked forward and walked to the restaurant where he had told Polly to meet him in case he had lingered too long with Eliza.
Polly waited for him by a window, she wore a blouse that showed off as much of her modest cleavage as was decent. Her long hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail that slanted her eyes a little, she smiled at him and her softness and her beauty overwhelmed him. Sitting with her through dinner, he felt such a degree of guilt. The same guilt he knew he would feel if he had given into Eliza.
They walked out of the restaurant, his hand on Polly’s back. She felt so perfect to him in that moment. Her perfection drove him to need to tell her what had happened. It wasn’t guilt as much as it was he finally wanted someone to tell the story to. He knew Fiona knew, but he had never talked about it to anyone before. Never told anyone about the relationship that first he had to keep a secret, and then didn’t have to keep a secret.
Polly’s body stiffened next to him as they sat in the back of the car. Oscar did not touch her, or move to get closetr to her. The car pulled up in front of her apartment building.
“Are you coming in?” she asked him turning back to look down at him.
Oscar said nothing, got out of the car and followed her. The door man smiled at him because he was familiar. But everything felt surreal to Oscar, unsure what Polly was thinking.
They went to her apartment. Oscar stood in the doorway. Quiet, unsure and she left him there
Polly walked back out with a bundle of white lace that was soiled with blood, old blood.
“Remember when I was little Bo-Peep? And I would not tell you the entire story?”
“I kept the dress.”
“With blood all over it, how did you get blood all over it?” he questioned, his voice back.
Polly held the dress close to her chest.
“I used to be very goth, my boyfriend at the time liked to drink my blood. He’d cut me, I cut him a few times and tasted his blood. I don’t anymore and neither does he. I saw him in Paris, he sold me the Dubuffet.”
Oscar took a deep breath. He’d exposed all the details of his affair with Eliza, and was trumped by Polly exposing her secret teen past and…her own unfinished ex business.
He suddenly felt the metallic taste of blood in his mouth.
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