Worm-infested cherries part 4.

Worm-infested cherries part 4.

By Biljana Malesevic

I tried to pretend nothing has changed. All I can see now was always there, I was just not paying attention to it, like with those worms in cherries. So, one evening I prepared a beautiful velvet, short dress, in rich red wine color, and toyed with the idea to pair it with suede boots in the same color. Hold these clothes for some time in hands as if I intended to wear it, then put them back in the closet. Icy wind was beating against the blinds and I was absolutely and totally sober. Several times I reached for a bottle of whiskey, but every time I'd spilled it back into the bottle. Cherries syndrome. As a punishment, I was sober. Finally, I decided for tight but warm, black trousers, knee high white boots and body hugging, soft, shaggy white sweater. That was actually my ski outfit from previous winter. Refusing to look in a mirror, I frenetically put some lipstick thinking all the time what it could contain. With trembling hands I made my hair and dressed like that decided to go to disco. I did not want to see "Moonlight" disco not even on a postcard anymore, so I decided for "Jupiter". I regretted my choice of clothes as soon as I entered the main hall. It was like in a sauna in there. Sweat was pouring down my back and thighs, creating unsightly dark patches under the armpits. It looked like I have mistakenly landed in Cairo instead of Rekjavik. Around me almost naked girls were dancing swinging hips and bare breasts, and though like few weeks ago I was one of them, I could not help but wonder what this fertility dance actually means but to lure lustful glances from males who were in obvious minority, sitting in booths, each with a bottle of some alcohol in hand. Nausea and weakness from several days of fasting made me to withdraw into a corner and back slid down the wall to a crouching position. Noise was unbearable and I hated disco strobe-lights. I tried to get up in order to get to exit and escape from this hell but bumped into obstacle in the form of short but bulky creature with smoothly shaved head. He smelled of stale sweat, with stained black T-shirt, several gold chains around his neck and starred at me.

- "You’ll right?" – he mumbled looking at me like I am some kind of artifact.

- "No" –I panted barely- "I have to go."

- "Well you’re stuffed as if you’re going to North Pole. Wanna some drink to put you in mood? "

- "No, thank you" -I said, although experience taught me that simple refusal is never enough with guys like him. I tried to get away and get lost in the crowd. Mistake.

- '' Where are you goin’? I asked nicely to have a drink. You should be nice to me when I am offering to pay you drink. You look sick anyway. "

- "Let me go!" - I said almost desperately. I was very tired. Without alcohol-crutch in that terrible smoky and overheated atmosphere of a pressure cooker, all I wanted was to get out. All around me were shiny buttocks in tiny, delicate panties and little skirts. Absurd as it is, but these clothes revealed more than complete nudity. I started to get seriously dizzy.

- You don’t talk to me like that, bitch! "- creature armed with gold chains and big hands slammed me against the wall. I could feel his greasy hands penetrating under my shirt. I could scream and kick and no one would hear me in deafening noise and darkness. He could have killed me and no one would notice anything until everyone left and cleaning team in the morning would find my body lying in a pool of my own blood. I looked him in the eyes, but they revealed nothing, just emptiness. He reached with his  hand into my pants.

- "You women are all the same, just want money," –he snarled in my face- "If I was loaded, you would not play hard to get. You can dress up like a nun, but you still want one thing do you? "

He tried to look strong and powerful, poor bastard, but to me he looked like a miserable, sweaty and drunk bunch of meat with quite modest intellectual abilities, heated hormones that were blocking his remaining brain function. His empty-minded view of this situation almost caused me to burst out laughing, but then he probably would have thrust knife in my stomach. And he surely had a knife, they all did. I was limp and silent until he relaxed a little and his hormones rendered him helpless, then hit him in the testicles with my knee as strong as I could. He screamed in high pitch, like a girl, and immediately fell to his knees. I laughed nervously, pushed him away and hurried toward the exit. As I struggled through the crowd, a few of his clones tried to stop me, using virtually the same approach. One girl hugged me and tried to kiss me with her intoxicating alcoholic lips, female flesh rippled around me like a jelly, bare and smelling of pheromones. Hands were pulling me back, slippery with sweat. At one point, someone kicked me in the back, and almost knocked me down. One man whose advances I refused even slapped so hard that blood poured from my nose and leaked on white sweater. I was thinking how I'm going to wash it off while I worked my way toward the exit. It was hard to believe that not so long ago, going out like this was truly enjoyable.