Meet me naked in your bathroom, and I just might slit your throat.

"What are you doing here?"  She asked over the roar of the shower.

There was a surprise in her eyes, a look in them that hinted that something was up.

"I wanted to see you." I said.  "That's all."

I liked the way the water bounced off her head and splashed onto the ceiling.  Sticking there in contraveance to the laws of gravity.  Maybe something Spock could have explained.

"I wanna see you naked."  I explained. I stared directly at her face.  But my thoughts fondled her body.

She laughed, but it was forced. "You've seen me naked before."

"I know."  I agreed. She didn't understand.  But that was okay.

"But I wanted to see you."

I could have winked at her, or smiled and made things better.  Made us both forget everything.  But for some reason I couldn't do that.  Whatever depth of sympathy or empathy that I normally can summon when I need to wasn't there.

I didn't care if it made her uncomfortable for me to watch her rub soap on her tits.  I made sure that my look conveyed exactly what I wanted it to.  I was going to look at you naked.  Get over it.  You're mine. I get to look at you naked.

Let the water run down the drain.  Let me stand here awkwardly leaning into the shower with the curtain pushed aside. Watch the water whirlpool away. See your lips tremble just a bit.  See you scrub your scalp with a vengeance.

See you thinking thoughts. Why don't I go away? Why do I keep looking at you?  What do I know?

I know everything.  What do you think?  You think things get past me?  I'm not 18.  I'm not that stupid little boy anymore.  Nothing gets past me.

"I'm going to whistle while I work!"  I said that to her.  Then I smiled at her.  So that she'd know there was something wrong.

Gives me the sleep disorder look.  That's why she was always awake. 12:30, 3:30, 4:45.  No matter what time I woke at night.  Sometimes she just stared over at me like a mannequin.  Other times she accuse me, "What!" She'd demand.

"Nothing."  I'd say.  "I was just wondering if you were awake."

"Of course I'm awake.  What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?"

Back then I would mumble something like, "Yelling at me."  And roll over and pretend to sleep. I could feel the heat coming out of her eyes as they burned their way into my subconscious.

I suppose I should have reached back and slapped her.  Gone all Alpha Male.  She always responded to that kind of shit.  But that would have just gotten me angrier.  The fact that she wanted me to dominate her did not make me want to dominate her more.  It made me lose all respect for her.  It made me feel no remorse.  It made me think of her as sub-human.

A pussy-ass Alpha Male needs to dominate as much as a sub-human needs to be dominated.  But that kind of thinking is Pre-Nietzsche.  You should really be BEYOND all that.

but fuck that

She really never was my equal.  Not even in my beta days.  When I couldn't get pussy to save the world.  When the acne butchered my face and vomited acid.  I still have the scars.  But I won't dwell there.

I shut the curtain and began to shave.  My sudden movement caught her off guard because I heard a soft thud which sounded like the conditioner bottle fell and was cushioned by landing on her foot.  She let out a soft curse which made me laugh.

"Asshole!"

That's the ticket my dear.  I'm the asshole.  And this is all my fault.  You never led me on.  You never fucked me over.  You aren't the biggest slut in slutland@slutopia fucking dildos and storing the cream cheese that excretes from your vagina in the back trunks of Stutevilles just waiting for that shit to turn into something you can sell to the willing Mexican boys to suck down stuffed inside jalapenos.

Not FUCKING you.  Let's get that shit straight.  Shall we?