My Heart Belongs In Oregon

Part One: And It Hurt Every Part of Me

Author's note: I haven't been on here for a long time. I left before because I just hated my writing and got really self-conscious about it. I don't know I can go back and rewrite the stuff I hated ( all non poetry related entries basically) but I realized that as a writer you can never give up. I can't be someone I'm not. I need to applaud my strengths as a writer and work on my weaknesses. I realized how much I love writing. I want a write a really huge disclaimer about my story, but I can't apologize for my voice. I tried to clean up all my grammar and spelling mistake but if they are still there ( and I'm sure they are, just let me know and I'll appreciate it). \

Also, the first part is a little smutty. I usually don't write sex scenes. And I don't even think it's that like super sexual. But expect good story lines, plot development and character growth (well hopefully I achieve these things) and maybe some sex scenes, it just won't be the entire story.

So this story is "IR", interracial if you don't like that, then maybe you shouldn't read it. But that honestly isn't even the most important part of this story. It's about a journey of self discovery and romance. It just happens to be with a black woman and a nonwhite man. I think it can relate to all kinds of audiences. So those two letters shouldn't scare you away. I just know they are a lot of people who want to read stories that feature interracial relationships, so I just made it easy to find it. So for the long author's note…which basically just looks like a disclaimer, but enjoy and comment!

She had reached her lowest low. Her eyes avoided his and he took notice. It didn't stop his thrusts; nor, did it stop him from grabbing a handful of her tight black curls. She was glad she was on her stomach, facing the dirty walls of his trailer instead of his face. She didn't have to face his ocean blue eyes. But he continued to move inside her from behind, thrashing about as he firmly held onto her dark brown smooth hips. She pushed those thoughts out with every push he made inside her. Her loud moans—which almost resembled screaming at this point, crashed into the air with his deep guttural grunts. The notes cascaded the room like violent waterfalls. She finally gushed as ripple after ripple of ecstasy drowned her guilt and regret. He expelled inside the condom with one final thrust, turned on by her submissive nature. They both breathed heavily, saying nothing for a while. She wasn't sure if it was comfortable silence or awkward quietness. However, the quiet soon began to hurt her ears and his too, she assumed. He pulled out. She heard the shower running in the background.

Janie's legs were weak at this point, still shaking from her orgasm. The room was quiet. The sexual arousal that filled the room minutes ago dissipated like raindrops on a hot summer sidewalk. She sighed heavily, trying to decipher her own thoughts. Her mind seemed so blank. But each conflicting thought was an iceberg in an ocean and each iceberg collided against each other.

Breaking off from larger glaciers…and they just continued to assault the oceans.

Which way to turn when surrounded by ice in a limitless ocean and land can't be found?

She couldn't think of anything but the icebergs and the glaciers; large and terrifyingly magnificent towering over her presence. They were bigger than her.

She predicted the glaciers would thoughtlessly efface her existence; Janie presumed she was too much of an incompetent captain to see the clear path to salvation. She wasn't sure of how long she had been thinking of the glaciers, but she heard Sam clear his throat.

She was in the same position. She turned over and saw Sam was naked. His brown long hair covered his eyes and they trapped his ocean blue eyes. Six foot four. Average looking. Hairy chest and legs. The dark hairs contrasted with his pale skin. Much older than her, 29 to her 19. Sam. She felt a pit in her stomach but managed to keep herself from gulping hard. Janie faked a smile and asked Sam to take her home. But first, they rolled a joint, smoked filled the air and soon he filled her again. Every time he was inside her the glaciers the just melted.

Janie managed to miss another patch of hair on her legs. It had been three weeks since ending things with Sam. She didn't find a need to shave her legs-not that he cared to begin with, but she was bored and figured she could kill time with epilation. She waxed just her arms and then she ran out of wax; she hadn't shaved her thin yet curvy thighs and legs and headed for the shower. She always succeeded missing a patch of hair no matter how many times she ran the blade over her legs. She loved the warm water and didn't want to leave the shower. So she lathered up again and let the droplets soothe her mind and aching muscles. She turned off the water and shaved one more time, rinsed and made sure she bare and smooth. She was surely wasting water but the comfort of the steam and the vanilla soap enticed her to stay longer in her shower. Her hand reached for the shower nob. She made a note to herself to clean the mildew on the curtains and the inside of the shower nob. She turned the nob left and the water covered her head. Any hotter and she would have burned herself. The heater was faulty but Janie generally tried to be careful with the water. She asked Sam to fix it for her but he was still upset about the break-up. He promised he would come later today, but he had been ignoring all her texts and calls for the past two days. Janie didn't know what to say to him but she wanted to worry about that later. Right now, she enjoyed herself. She was a little happier. Her lathered her pruney hands and slide her small fingers over her smalls breasts. She loved her body. It took years for her to love the proportions of her small frame. Her sudsy hands cupped her breasts, giving the brown bounds a gentle squeeze. She moved down to her flat stomach and then her thighs. She continued to lather her hands and washed her small oval shaped face. She left the hot water run down her thick lips. Then, she found her finger sliding into her other lips. She propped her body against the shower wall. She made soft moans, plunging in and out her moistness. Her legs clamped together and her other hand rubbed her clit. She imagined herself over Sam's knees, him drawing his hand back and forcefully slapping against her ass. She remembered each blow to her bottom stung and how it increased her wetness.

She was fully enveloped in her fantasy. By the time the doorbell rang, she was already at the part where Sam had wiggled two fingers inside and was tickling her g-spot. She wanted to ignore the doorbell, but she wrapped up her fantasy and decided she would pick up where she left off later.

Janie grabbed a pink towel from the shower curtain rod and exited the bathroom. Right across her bathroom was her ajar bedroom door with a full view of Sam on her bed. Before she could fully process the situation, he quickly rose. Excitement whirled like a cyclone in his eyes.

" You look so fucking sexy right now," Sam said. "Beautiful actually."

She ignored his compliment and headed to the dresser adjacent to her bed and Sam. Janie asked, "What are you doing here?" She opened the first drawer and grabbed an oversized t-shirt. Her back was against Sam and once again, Janie was glad she didn't have to face him. " Can you please leave? I need to get dressed."

He was silent for a moment but he placed his chin on the nook of her neck. He was taller than her so he had to bend down, but maybe he found solace in the softness of her body.

"I really missed you," he began, " and you didn't give me any answers…"

She escaped from his embrace and sat down on her bed. She placed the t-shirt on the bed. He turned. His sunken azure eyes gazed at Janie. She bit her lip and looked down at the stained beige carpet.

"Goddamit, Janie why won't you just look at me anymore?" Sam blustered. "All I want to do is look at your beautiful eyes. I don't know what I did but I just want to see them."

Janie complied and looked into his eyes. Sam smiled but Janie couldn't find any emotions stirring inside her. His smile disappeared. He looked away this time. He sighed. "Why?"

She gulped. " It's not you, it's me…"

Sam began to cackle, " What the fuck? Are you serious with this shit?"

Janie started to cry. "I wasn't ready for what you wanted me to be ready for. I was sad so for long…I'm so lost right now. I couldn't get lost with you."

"I could make you happy."

She shook her head. "I've looked under a lot of rocks to find happiness. Nooks and crannies, bridges, and graveyards—"

"Please," Sam begged, "no metaphors. Stop being a fucking a poet and just be straightfoward with me." He was visibly anxious and nervous. It made Janie uneasy.

"I'm trying to! I can't even describe it myself. Except a feeling of wanting to flee. Equal parts of not wanting to exist and ceasing all kinds of sensation because I'm tired of feeling I'm not in the right place. And then, wanting to be drown in stimulation. Just fucking, alive. Stuck between wanting to be dead and wanting to be alive. And it hurts every part of me. It hurts every fucking cell of me and you don't understand!" She swiftly expelled in one breathe. She sobbed and fat tears met the stained carpet.

Sam kneeled down. He cupped her face, she tried to turn away but he forced her to look at him. He placed his forehead on hers. "Then why don't you let me understand? Help me."

She closed her eyes. "Sam—"

"No, please. You did not even give me a chance. Why do you have to run away?"

He wiped her tears with large hands. "I have secrets. I have darknesses. Things I'm scared of. Places I don't want to be in anymore. I feel stuck. I don't know where to go."

He placed his hand on her inner thigh. He rubbed a little and then held her hands.

She looked at the spot where he touched her hand; it tingled at his touch. But she noticed she missed a spot right there. A thin line of hair that ran up almost across the entire length of her thigh. Something was always missing.