Episode III: Love is the Drug

One of the things that James hated about Amelia was he desire to tell him every detail of her sexual conquests, no matter how graphic or degrading. Of course he would prefer it if she stayed tight lipped about the matters of her and her sex life but he'd never say it. He'd also never say it, but he knows he still has feelings for her. There was a time, a brief time, after his accident when all he did was hated her. He had a dream of what his life would be with her and she ruined it when she started the relationship with her boyfriend.

The dream was dead and he had no problems being around her, near her, with her. Whatever he felt from her had fled his mind and he was content without it. The feelings didn't stay gone for long thought, they resurfaced late one night a couple months after his accident. Amelia had already been partying in her place for some time before James had arrived. She was acting erratic, almost manic as she danced to the deafening music blasting from her living room stereo. He took a seat in the same recliner that would eventually be soaked in piss by a drunken no-name with a gun to his head. She staggered awkwardly towards him, unbuttoned her shirt in an awkward striptease and sat on his lap.

"Amelia, what are you doing?"
"What, this is what you've wanted isn't it? You've always wanted me."
"Amelia... Amelia I think you've had a little bit too much to drink, why don't we take you upstairs."
"Even better, we can do it on the bed."
"Amelia, please stop."
"Come on, you know you want to fuck me, I want you to."
"Stop, Amelia."

The better and worse parts of his nature were competing with each other. He had wanted this for so long. Any other day he would welcome her hand on his crotch. As a matter of fact, he have welcomed everything she was doing, kissing his neck, grinding his legs, and softly caressing his skin. But as enticing as she was, he knew this wasn't right.

[Continued]