“Ohhhhhh, fuuuuuuck…. Oh, God! Fuck! Ugh… Ugghhh… Uggghhhhh… Oh, God! Ahhh! Ja-Jackson! …. Ahh! Jackson, please! Please!!!! …..Please, Jackson!!!”

The memories of her every sound and outcry may as well have been a recording playing back. They were that clear in his head. All of them. Every single word, every single whimper, every single plea and whine, every single gasping breath. He recalled everything and forgot nothing.

And although the order in which they left her mouth had always varied depending on when and where he touched her first, they always held that insanely erotically arousing tone of needy desire and desperation. That, combined with the lewd, uncensored expressions of helpless pleasure and pain on her beautiful face, and the way she’d pleadingly say his name always had Jackson’s cock nearly as hard at the memories as it had been whenever he’d actually fucked her. 

And tonight was no exception. With the day’s stress compounding with his frustration and tension from thinking about her almost nonstop (yet again), Jackson was in the same situation he’d found himself in countless times now: reclined slack on his couch with his pants around his thighs and his hand roughly stroking his stiffened cock.

The TV glowed at a low volume and bounced light off the darkened walls as he worked himself to a finish that was both intense yet mostly unsatisfying. With the sound of her voice and the image of her face in his mind’s eye, Jackson came in his hand with a loud, frustrated groan, followed with the careless wipe of a tissue that seemed pathetically underutilized — he swore, whenever he came inside her, it could have been enough to fill a beer bottle. But without her, his balls seemed to nearly be out of commission, and every time left him feeling almost angrier and more tense than when he’d started. 

Angrily chucking the wadded up tissue to the floor, Jackson huffed out a breath and arranged himself back in his pants before getting up off the couch and heading for the kitchen. The scowl still on his face, he grabbed the bottle of bourbon off the counter and uncapped it before throwing back a hefty swig and slamming the bottle back down. Upon exhaling and looking straight ahead again, Jackson still didn’t feel any relief from the tension, and after a moment of mentally arguing with himself, he gave in and reached for his phone.

Retrieving the recording was all muscle memory. He’d played it so many times now that he could have opened it from the home screen with his eyes closed. Upon pulling it up, his thumb hesitated over the “Play” button for only half a second before he tapped it and was immediately hearing the familiar sounds.

The general background bustle of the diner. Lulled, indistinct chatter and the tinkling of silverware. The slap of menus hitting the counter and other voices speaking greetings and food orders.

But then, her voice.

“Did you want a refill on that coffee?” , “Oh, thank you! You’re so sweet! It’s good to see you!” , “Hey there! How are you? I saved you the last slice of apple pie. How are your grandkids?”

Immediately upon hearing Y/N’s voice, the tension in Jackson’s shoulders lessened and his jaw unclenched, the genuine sweetness in her tone and the images of her it refreshed in his mind feeding that unrelenting craving he had for her. He remembered all the times he’d watched her and seen her personality come to life as she’d interact with others, and the way it drew him in was something he couldn’t explain. When the recording came to the part where she gave the prettiest little laugh, he could feel the tension building in his body again, but this time, it was with want and arousal. That only intensified as he continued the recording, even though he already knew what was coming next: the words she spoke to co-workers, not customers. The playful, sassy, sarcastic quips and remarks, unfiltered and sometimes brash, yet her sweetness still sprinkled in here and there.

“Well, fuck you if you think I’m splitting the tip with you just because you gave him an extra napkin.” , “Don’t be silly, it’s no big deal. I’ll trade shifts with you and then you can still make it to your appointment." , “Vick, you know I love you, but that last burger you made looked like roadkill wrapped in shit.” , “Hold on; I’ll get you a Band-Aid. Just sit and take a break for a second.”

But then, finally, the part of the recording that he could never resist listening to for very long — the conversation between Y/N and her co-worker, Angie. 

Angie: “You’re watching for him, aren’t you?”

Y/N: “Watching for who?”

There was a brief pause, during which Jackson assumed Angie had given Y/N some kind of knowing look.

Angie: “Oh, come on. Your favorite patron?”

Y/N: “Who?”

Another pause.

Angie: “You know who.”

Y/N: “If you’re referring to Jackson, I am not watching for him.”

Angie: “Oh, so it’s suddenly ’Jackson’ now? Last time you referred to him, I believe his name was ‘That fucking piece of shit asshole who can kiss my motherfucking ass.’ What’s suddenly got you so fond of him?”

Y/N: “I’m not fond of him.”

Angie: “Oh really? Then why do you keep looking up like an eager puppy every time the bell above the door rings?”

Y/N: “I’m just noticing when a customer comes in!”

Angie: “Yeah, right. I think it’s been a little while since Mr. Wonderful came by, and you’re missing him.”

Y/N scoffed.

Y/N: “Missing what, exactly? The way he insulted my intelligence and everything about me? The sexist harassment and verbal abuse? Or the general horribleness that was him?”

Angie: “All of the above. You loved it. It was super obvious.”

Y/N: “What?! You’re crazy! I did not!”

Angie: “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with liking it mean. Besides, I can definitely see that about you.”

Y/N: “See what?”

Angie: “That you’d like it rough. To most people, you come across innocent enough, but I can totally see you being into that.”

Y/N: “You’re nuts!”

Angie: “Hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Even the good girls like it bad. And you and him totally had that wavelength of chemistry. You two obviously wanted to fuck each other.”

Y/N: “Would you keep your voice down!”

Angie: “So you admit it!”

Y/N: “I’m not admitting anything!”

Angie: “But you’re not denying it, either.”

Y/N: “I’m pretty sure I’ve been spending this whole conversation denying it.”

Angie: “Not very well.”

Y/N: “Angie…”

Angie: “Hey, it’s Jackson! He’s coming!”

Y/N: “Seriously?! Oh my God!”

The tone in Y/N’s voice was undoubtedly excitedly hopeful, and the sound accompanying her was clearly that of her rushing to set something down and turn around towards the diner door to look. But then Angie’s laughter played back.

Angie: “Wow, ‘not into him’ my ass. You should have seen the look on your face. You were giddier than a schoolgirl.”

Y/N: “Oh my God, fuck you! You suck!”

Angie: “Maybe, but at least we know I’m right.”

Y/N: “Ok, fine. I was into him. There. Are you happy?”

Angie: “You were really into him.”

Y/N: “Yes. Really into him. And I know how twisted that is, so can we please not talk about this anymore? He’s not coming back anymore, anyways.”

There was a brief pause.

Angie: “Wait a second… why does that sound like… Wait. Did something actually happen with you and him?”

There was a lengthier pause that time.

Angie: “Oh. My. God.”

Y/N: “Angie…”

Angie: “Holy shit.”

Y/N: “Stop it.”

Angie: “You hooked up with him, didn’t you?! Oh my God, I knew it!!!”

Y/N: “I’m not talking about this.”

Angie: “Oh my God! How long has this been going on?!”

Y/N: “It’s not going on. Not anymore, anyways.”

Angie: “Alright, out with it. Now.”

Y/N could be heard taking a deep breath before finally answering Angie.

Y/N: “Alright. It wasn’t supposed to happen. None of it was. In fact, the first time was kind of… well… definitely not planned. But when we were together something just…snapped. And then after that first time, it was like we couldn’t stop. It was almost every night, for weeks. But I could never contact him. He could only contact me. That’s the only way he would have it, and I got this sense that I better not question it. But he was adamant about seeing me, threatening, almost, and there was just this unspoken…something. And I could never say no.”

Angie: “That’s both incredibly hot and incredibly disturbing at the same time.”

Y/N: “I know. I never knew whether to be scared or thrilled.”

Angie: “Sounds like you were both.”

Y/N: “But we couldn’t stop. And I think…I don’t know…I don’t know what was happening, but then the last time, right before he left, he was even angrier than usual, and he gave me this look that I can’t even describe – like he both hated me and didn’t want to leave at the same time – and then he gave me the meanest kiss and shoved me away before he walked out. That was four months ago. I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

At this point, Jackson was re-living every single moment in his head along with Y/N’s narrative, and his breathing was tense and labored as he leaned with his hands gripping the edge of the counter.

Angie: “That is the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard.”

Y/N: “I know.”

Another pause.

Angie: “Well, that explains why you were suddenly not acting like yourself for a while there. You were, like, cranky and depressed. Turns out it’s because you weren’t getting laid anymore.”

Y/N gave a humorless laugh.

Y/N: “It was all so messed up.”

A pause once more.

Angie: “You started to have feelings for him, didn’t you?”

Y/N: “I mean… Yeah… I think I did. And I know that’s crazy.”

Angie: “Sounds like he definitely had some for you. In a very fucked up way.”

Y/N: “All of it was fucked up.”

Angie: “Well, you obviously don’t regret it that much if you’re still looking around for him like an eager beaver.”

Y/N: “Well, it’s over now, and he clearly isn’t showing up here ever again, so we’ll call it a lapse in judgement on my part, because I need to realize that’s obviously what it was.”

Finally, Jackson reached for his phone again, tapping it back to the home screen with much more force than necessary now that the recording had finished. He flung the phone back onto the counter, scowling again as he then took another angry swig from the bourbon bottle.

It was the same rotation he went through every time, unwilling to acknowledge what it was that had him so angry. The fact that she was constantly on his mind, even after all this time. That he craved not just her body, but her presence. That he wondered about her in ways that weren’t just factual. That the idea that she not only craved him just as much, but that she also had developed feelings for him. It was an unbelievably pleasing notion that he’d kill to have be true, and that’s why listening to that recording was always so irresistible – he could hear the nervous certainty in her voice. And the anger he held would always only multiply as he would push down the other fact that he always refused to acknowledge: Y/N’s feelings weren’t one-sided. They never had been.

But although he’d refused to admit it to himself yet, that hadn’t stopped Jackson from doing everything possible to prevent those feelings from taking up even more real estate than they already had. And so he’d sworn that the last time he’d fucked her would indeed be the last, and he’d completely disappeared from her life since then. Not just in ways she noticed, but on his own behalf, too. He hadn’t been to the diner, hadn’t watched her from outside her apartment, hadn’t tracked her location – nothing since that last time. He knew it was what had to be done in order to accomplish the logical necessity of forgetting about her.

And he kept waiting and waiting for that to get easier.

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