"Im sorry, get out of me, I can't make love to a man without crying. Wait, Im serious, get out"... I said, sobbing.
I was in bed with this hot shot director I met at a party in Manhattan a couple of weeks before. Fine man, with eyes that could kill.
Don't get me wrong, I would have loved to fuck him.. but something wasn't right anymore.
After days of thinking I realized I fucking hated myself. Why? I mean, I had gone from shit fuck dirt to a well payed secretary. Maybe it was the gang rape. Maybe thats why I couldn't fuck anyone. I felt so used, so dirty, so useless, so fuckin pathetic. I wondered if anyone in my past had ever loved me. fuck.
I rang the doorbell 5 times before I got a response.
"Oh no way" he said.
"Yeah hey can I come in?"
"You look fucking amazing Kitty, who do I have to thank for your visit?"
I knew the answer, but I didn't say it.
"Did you love me?"
"We were young kitty" he said after he sat me down and offered me some coffe. Here I was, 7 years later. I was now 25, and he was now 35.
"it wasn't that long ago, u weren't that fuckin young, tell me the fucking truth"
Did I need that? Maybe I had gone to him because I was so sure he'd say yes.
What the fuck was wrong with me? And wait, why the fuck had he cleaned up so nicely. I had to have my go at him when he was a dirty druggie? And now?... Fuck, go Catherine.
"You were just good sex I guess, I don't know what to tell you. I know you want to hear something else. But I was just infactuated by you. There was nothing more to it then sex drugs and rock and roll"
Say that again. I'll punch you in your mouth.
"You were just a good fuck Kitty. You've grown up into a beautiful young woman, but you were a tad of a slut years ago"
A slut? you sick son of a bitch, you were the only dick I fucked. And then I went for it. I got up to walk out, he followed. I was already disgusted. Then he tapped my ass and whispered, "I know Im married, but come again soon. If I remember correctectly you love the sweet dick."
I turned around and punched him with all my might in his face. He fell to the ground and I got on top of him. "You know, you were my God once. I looked up to you, and you fucked me up for life you sick son of a bitch. What were you doing fucking a 16 year old anyway." I spit on his face and he layed silent until...
"You never could be anything but a savage dirty whore, could you? Have some fucking class, do something with your life instead of comin back to guys you fucked on rampages when you were a kid."
Then I kicked him in the balls.
I walked out biting my lip. I guess I do that, a lot. Fuckin sick son of a bitch. Married? Slut? whore? I couldn't amount to anything? Have class?
Maybe thats why I decided to get back into acting. Maybe not. But I did, and I did it well. How dare anyone not believe in me?
Soon, I started to forget all about sex, about Jaqlins cousin, about Jonny. I started to forget the scars on my body and the tears permanently marked on my pillows. I actually lied. I didn't forget about JOnny. He was now my motivation. I never was a girl to push around much. Fuck him. I'll show him. I was barabra streisand. I was Elizabeth Taylor, I was going to be, the next Marlyn Monroe.
My big break was a part as a bartender who witnesses a murder and blah blah blah. Cliche I guess. After that I got roles up the ass. It was fuckin wonderful. In fact, it was amazing. I moved back to Los Angeles, and bought a house in the Hollywood Hills. I dated actors. I fucked models. My confidence had come back. Everything I had, I had gained.
.... and today....
Its been a while since I've worked. And Im glad I dont have a due date for this fuckin monologue, cause I don't think I'll ever have it fuckin ready.
I fuck him all the time, and all I hear him say is "Its time to take your pills Miss"....