This is actually my first story on this site, so please don't be too harsh. I'm just a sixteen year old aspiring author looking for some feedback on my writing =] I got my inspiration from the song "Video Games" by Lana Del Rey. I'd recommend listening to it. It's a great song

(break)

A small breeze came through the window in my apartment, which was opened just a crack to let the crisp night air cool the room a bit, causing the curtains hanging on either side to quiver. The smell of the sweet perfume I was dabbing on my neck was blown around a bit as well after I placed the cap back on it and set the small bottle on the coffee table. I wasn't proud of myself for being who I was. The truth was, I never viewed myself as a bad person until this started going on. "This" being my affair with a man who should have been completely off limits. Calvin Marshall.

What made this affair even worse was how much I had been degrading myself with it throughout the past few months it had been going on. Since the first day I met him, Calvin had caught my attention, and when we got to know each other, I developed strong feelings for him. One would believe that, since we were engaging in this affair, he had strong feelings for me as well, but that wasn't necessarily the case. Calvin was physically attracted to me, and there was no doubt about that, but it didn't go beyond that. I was pathetic. I was willing to let Calvin use my body because it was the closest I was ever going to get to having a relationship with him.

I was wearing his favorite dress, the smell of his favorite perfume still lingering in the air from when I had dabbed it on a few minutes prior. I was desperate to please him, desperate to make him feel the same for me as I did for him, even though I knew it was highly unlikely . He already had someone to care for his other needs, even though I knew they hadn't been seeing eye to eye lately. That was the reason he came to me. I was just a source of physical satisfaction for him while he and his wife were having problems. I was the one he came to when he was drunk and needed a quick pick-me-up. He was using me and I could not have cared less. It was despicable, and it was disgusting, but somehow I couldn't stop myself.

When there was a knock at the door, I knew immediately who it was. I stood up from the couch, where I had sat down to wait for him, smoothing out the bottom of the dark blue dress before I answered the door. As soon as I did, the smell of booze wafted through the door, washing away the scent of the perfume that had been lingering only a minute prior. I locked eyes with Calvin. His eyes were glazed and he looked as if he had been either crying, or on the verge of tears. I was used to seeing him like this lately. Every time he fought with his wife, this was where he came, with that look of depression and distress.

I opened the door a little wider, inviting him inside without saying a word. He accepted the gesture and stepped inside as I reached behind him to push the door to my apartment closed once he was all the way in.

"Are you okay?" I asked with concern, knowing that we did not need to greet each other anymore when he showed up here like this.

Calvin just shrugged and shook his head a bit, taking a step closer to me, the smell of alcohol become more potent when he did. I swallowed the lump in my throat, which never ceased to arise when his face got close to mine like this, and looked at the floor underneath us. We were quiet for a minute, just standing like that, close enough to feel one another's breath

"Demitra," I shivered subconsciously when I heard his soft, breathy voice say my name.

I looked up at him, biting my lip when we made eye contact once again. I was normally a proud woman, but something about looking into Calvin's eyes made me feel small. Maybe it was because I knew all of this was wrong. Or maybe it was because I knew that I was wrapped around his finger. If Calvin said jump, I would ask how high, and that made gave me a feeling of nausea in the pit on my stomach.

"Cal..." I didn't finish his name before he leaned down to nuzzle the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply against my skin, smelling, what he told me was, his favorite scent.

He kissed my shoulder, which was revealed by my strapless dress, softly, and I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath in and letting it out shakily. I knew I should object before things got carried away, the way they always did. I knew I should tell him that this wasn't fair to me in the slightest, and that it needed to stop. I should tell him that this went above and beyond wrong, and that we couldn't do this any longer, but I didn't. I just remained silent, allowing him to kiss my neck the way he always did. Calvin and I never kissed on the lips. He swore that, if we did, it would be too intimate.

When he leaned away from my neck, we locked eyes again, and he moved his hand to my back, running his index finger over the zipper of my dress. I looked down at the cross hanging around his neck for a minute before looking back to his face. He smiled a small, half smile.

"This dress is my favorite," he told me in a soft voice.

"I know," I responded, my tone just as quiet.

He laughed that small, weak laugh, and I smiled a small smile as well, trying to fight off the churning in my stomach.

"You're beautiful, Demitra," he told me, taking hold of the zipper now, "inside and out. And one day you're going to find a man that makes you so happy, and you're going to forget all about me. I promise you that."

He gave me this speech, told me the same exact thing, every time we did this. It must have been his way of apologizing, knowing that he was taking advantage of the way I felt about him. He knew that I had feelings for him, and I could always tell that he felt bad for using me the way he did. Yet, he never stopped, and I never asked him to.

"And the two of you are going to get back on track," I assured him, avoiding using the name that neither of us wanted to hear at the moment, for the sake of not feeling like horrible people.

"I know," he told me.

But, even though he knew that the issues between he and his wife were going to pass, he took my hand anyway and took me into my bedroom, the only place that the two of us spent time together anymore.

(break)

Calvin had been gone for a few minutes now, and I was sitting in my bed alone, wearing a big t-shirt and shorts as I sat against the headboard, my knees pulled to my chest. The nausea was starting to fade a bit now that Calvin had left, but it wasn't all the way gone yet. The guilt and the nausea kind of went hand in hand.

Only a few minutes later, I could hear my cell phone ringing from where I left it on my night stand. I only had to reach over a few feet to grab it and when I saw the name on the caller ID, I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly before answering.

It was my sister, Karissa. While my relationship with Karissa had gotten better over the past few years, it still wasn't perfect. The reason for that was because I always couldn't help but to feel a sense of jealousy towards her. Ever since we were children, she always just had it a little better than me. People told me I was pretty, but Karissa was always prettier. My hair looked good when we decided to dye our hair together, but Karissa's looked a little bit better. My boyfriend in highschool was attractive and athletic, but Karissa's was a little more attractive, and a little more athletic. I knew it wasn't her fault, and I knew that she didn't do it on purpose, but it made me just a little resentful towards her. That got better now that we were adults, but there was always going to be a pinch of resentment still left over from my childhood.

"Hey, Karissa," I greeted her, pumping a cheerful tone into my voice.

"Hey," she didn't sound quite as cheerful, and there was a short silence on her end before she spoke again, "um, Demitra? I kind of need my sister right now."

Even though I knew why, I didn't say anything, my silence giving her the signal to continue on with what she was about to say.

"You don't need to come over, can you just...stay on the phone with me?" She asked.

"Yeah, of course," I told her, leaning back against the headboard of my bed.

I could hear Karissa sigh, and I sighed as well, only mine was silent. I looked down at my chipped nail polish, waiting for her to speak whenever she was ready.

"It's quiet here without him," she finally said, and she sounded as if she was fighting back tears, "he just...left. We got into a fight and he left. I don't know if he's coming back, Demitra. I don't even know if he's okay. I've been trying to call him, but he's not answering."

I thought back to Calvin's phone resting on the night stand next to mine, vibrating loudly against the hardwood surface underneath it until the sound became background noise that both of us tuned out. It was one of only a few sounds that was always there when Calvin and I got intimate. Soft sounds of satisfaction, quick breathing, and the sound of his phone vibrating nonstop.

"You're just upset, Karissa," I assured her in a soft voice, "just try to relax and he'll be home before you know it. I'm sure he's fine."

What I didn't mention to her was that I knew her husband was fine, because he had been here only a few minutes prior, in bed with me.