Vengeance by James Valvis



Photo by Susie Sweetland


‘Vengeance’ by James Valvis


He didn’t want to do it with her anymore.

He didn’t like the way she was twirling her fingers in his chest hair.  It wasn’t sexy.  It was repulsive.

She didn’t look good.  He was used to skinny girls.  She was too heavy.  Her legs, for instance.  They looked like bread that needed to be kneaded.

Heh, needed to be kneaded.  That was good.

“Why are you smiling?” she asked, staring at him dreamily.

“I’m thinking about you.”

She smiled widely and snaked a hand to his jeans.

Why had he said that?  Why hadn’t he gotten out of the bed and told her the truth?  He had thought he wanted this at the library where they met, during the drive here, making out in the hallway.  But now he didn’t care for her at all.  It was seeing her legs.  In pants they hadn’t looked like that.  They were bigger legs, to be sure, but they didn’t have stratum like some geologic formation.

She rubbed him through the jeans.

“Shouldn’t we get these off?” she said.

He tried to think of something to say, something that would stop this from going any further.  What did he know about her?  Not much.  She’d dated his friend John six months ago and they met that way.  John hadn’t cared about her at all.  He used her for sex, and that was it.  They hung out one night with a case of beer, John and him and this girl.  The girl made passes at him all night long.  Nothing too obvious, nothing that John could see or hear.  But it was obvious to him.  If he wanted he could have taken her home and left John standing there holding his pecker.  But he didn’t want that.  He drove home alone, drunk, feeling pretty good about himself.

It wasn’t that he wanted the girl that made him feel good.  It was that he was glad the girl wanted him more than John.  And when she and John did it that night, as they almost certainly would, she would be thinking about him, not John.

Now she was in his bed and he wished John was here to take her off his hands.

“You ever see him?”

She knew who he meant.

“I don’t want to talk about John.”

She fumbled with his belt.  It was tight and he made no effort to help her.

“I haven’t seen him in four months,” he said.  “He used to be one of my best friends.”

She kissed his neck.  Her hand slimed back up to his chest, like some strange rodent, to pinch his nipple.  “I’m so wet,” she said.

She had all the subtlety of a kangaroo.

He grabbed her hand and held it.  “It’s like he dropped off the face of the earth.”

“I saw him a week or so ago,” she said.

“Oh, really?”

She freed her hand and it immediately started south again, toward his crotch.

“He was with some black girl.”

“No shit?”

She sucked at his ear.  He wondered if she could taste his ear wax.

“Was she pretty?” he said.  “The black girl, I mean.”

“All I remember is she was real skinny,” the girl said.  “Like anorexic skinny.  My nipples are so hard.”

He knew who she was talking about.  Lisa.  He had liked her for a full year.  They had gone on a couple of dates that hadn’t amounted to anything.  Then he introduced her to John.  That was four months ago.  He hadn’t talked to either since.

The girl got the loop of the belt free and worked on pulling back the strap.
“You think this is right?” he said.  “I mean, what we’re doing and all.  John and I were buddies.”

She opened the belt.  That was her entire answer.

“I mean, I sure wouldn’t want one of my buddies doing this to me.  I’d be mad, all right.  I’d want to hunt him down and kick his ass.  Maybe I’d do something else.  Something to get even.”

She unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, then slid her hand toward his cock.  He was instantly hard.  It wasn’t any accomplishment.  A penguin could touch him there, he imagined, and he would get instantly hard.

She started clawing at his pants, trying to get them down.

“Listen,” he said.  “We don’t know each other that well.  If you want to wait, if you don’t want to rush into things, I understand completely.  That’s cool.  I mean, maybe you’re still on the rebound from John and this is—what do they call them—a vengeance fuck?  I mean, I know how John can be.  When we stopped talking, I swore I’d get even and all.”

She pulled her hand away.  She leaned back against the pillow and began to cry.  She cried silently, her eyes puffing.  A moment later she lifted part of the sheet to cover herself.

“Oh hey,” he said, turning to her.  “Oh, jeez.  Don’t cry.  Listen, don’t do that.”

“You don’t want to,” she said.  “You think I’m ugly.”

“Oh, no,” he said, not knowing why.  “Is that what you think?  Oh no.  I was just talking.  Nerves, you know.  First time nerves.  I mean, you felt it, right?  I mean, did it feel like I don’t want to?”

“I can’t get your pants off,” she said.

“Here,” he said, kicking off the pants.  “Why didn’t you just say something?  I thought we were just talking.  I thought we were doing a little foreplay.”

She dried her eyes with her forearm.  He could see clear snot in her nose.

“I’m so hot for you,” she said.  “I’m so ready.”

“Oh yeah,” he said.  “I’m hot too.”

“Come here,” she said.

And he did.


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James Valvis

James Valvis is the author of HOW TO SAY GOODBYE (Aortic Books, 2011). His poems or stories have appeared in Arts & Letters, Barrow Street, Chiron Review, Natural Bridge, Ploughshares, River Styx, The Sun, and many others. His poetry has been featured in Verse Daily. His fiction was chosen for the 2013 Sundress Best of the Net. In 2014 he was awarded a King County 4Culture Grant for the Arts. A former US Army soldier, he lives near Seattle. You can read more about him here

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2 Responses to Vengeance by James Valvis

  1. Jeff Weddle

    Good stuff, James. Tight, quick, natural flow. Human.

    • Roadside

      A nice tight, natural comment too from Mr Weddle :) Glad you enjoyed it.

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