They are the champions of the voiceless.

Or so they claim: “U matter, we care”.

Bullshit.

I’m not a child, I didn’t ask you for a toy to play with.

I asked for a voice.

I don’t need to be placated until I’ve calmed down. This isn’t a temper tantrum.

I’ve been violated.

      I’ve been used.

            I’ve been abused.

You said you’d help me. You said you would give me a voice.

You kept your promise.

You gave me a microphone,

but you turned off the sound.

Voices want to be heard but that's now what you want.

"Once upon a time.."

"Booorrring!"

"Why do we only get princess stories?"

"We want more."

There are few things in this world as dangerous as the act of trust. It’s a game that you can never be sure you won and that you always fear of losing. It’s placing a gun in your lovers hand, putting the barrel to your own temple, and asking them to pull the trigger. Only your lover knows if the gun is empty. You just sit there...trusting.

Jenna sat at a Chipotle table and she knew that her gun was loaded. Her lover sat across from her and she’d long since lost the thread of his words. She watched him scoop guacamole onto a chip and bring it to his lips. A bit of the green gunk fell off the chip in transit and landed on the table. You have no idea, do you? 

Something in her belly twisted and her fingernails bit into her palms. Her lover smiled at her and proffered his bag of chips towards her. She took one, the sharp edges cut the roof of her mouth. Next her lover held out his hand to her. She took it too, squeezing his fingers. His smile expanded and he asked what she wanted to do after lunch. You really have no idea. This is just a regular lunch for you, isn’t it? She was struck by the fragility of trust. Her lover sat in front of her, he didn’t know and he’d probably never know. He’d go on with his faith in their affection intact, unless she pulled the trigger. Her gun was loaded and in less than a moment she could put holes in him. The deed had already been done, but it wasn’t quite a crime yet, because she’d gotten away with it. Her lover still trusted her, blind faith keeping him beside her. How can you be so blind? Isn’t it obvious? But it wasn’t, because her lover trusted her. Something icy fell into her chest. What if she was as blind as him?

On this side of broken trust she could see how easy it was to betray without consequences. Through her eyes he sat across from her, cheerfully, blissfully unaware that there were bullets in her gun. She saw his innocent ignorance and thought him a fool for not realizing the truth...but what if he thought the same of her? What if his gun was loaded too and she was just as unaware. Just as stupid. Anger flooded her veins, how dare she be taken for such a fool! If he’d broken faith, she’d never know. Her hands clenched and she looked more closely at him. Was his shirt rumpled because it had been fished from a pile of unfolded laundry that morning or had manicured hands twisted it when they pulled it from his body? Had he really been late to their lunch date because he’d had to wait for a parking space? She’d relished his tardiness at the time, now she felt dizzy. Her head swam as the world pulsed around her. Her heart pounded a wrathful beat against her ribs. Her lover stood up with their almost empty paper cups and took them to the soda fountain.

                                                             ~*~

James. There was something undeniably sexy about the name. It was classic, masculine, confident. Jim and Jimmy sounded like someone’s borderline alcoholic uncle who lived on a farm. Jamie sounded like a little boy. But James. James was a man’s name.

This particular James lived up to his name like no one else she’d ever met. The music pumping through the club was overwhelmingly loud. Too loud for normal conversation, so he’d put his mouth directly onto her ear to say his name. The scruff on his jaw rubbed against her cheek, the vibrations of his voice shot directly from her ear to between her legs. His hand was on her waist, their bodies almost touching as they moved with the beat. He was taller than she was, so she wrapped her hand around his neck to pull his head closer to her’s.

‘Jenna’ she half shouted into his ear in return. This was the moment to take a step back. To smile politely and make her way back through the mass of dancers and to her work-friends who were probably still gossiping about the boss at the bar. She knew she’d already toed over the line of impropriety. She’d gone to the dance floor alone, less interested in office politics than her co-workers. She’d agreed to go out with them, since she’d passed on their last two invitations, but she had little interest in forging real friendships with any of them. So she’d taken a shot of bottom shelf rum and excused herself from their group to the dance floor.

One of the men had taken notice when she’d joined the throng. He nodded his head at her and grinned. A rush of flattery made her blush. She made a point of not looking in his direction again, as she moved with the music. There was a thrill in the idea of being watched, of perhaps being wanted. She carded a hand through her long hair as she grinded against the air, snaking her body down towards the ground and back up again. Eventually she looked back at the man, he was moving through the people towards her. Excitement filled her. It made her feel good to imagine herself as an unattainable desire. She pictured him coming towards her and introducing himself, asking for a dance. She’d be able to smile and laugh, introduce herself, but decline his offer. She had a lover, she’d tell him. It was empowering to feel wanted by others with no obligation to reciprocate.

Just as imagined a moment before, he came to her, he introduced himself. He was James, she was Jenna. Now was the moment to charmingly decline his offer and walk away. But she didn’t...

He moved closer to her, slowly; his body movements were a question. He was asking her permission, ensuring that his actions were welcome. She took a step closer too, fitting her body tightly against James’. It wasn’t planned, it was impulse. It was a choice and she followed her desire of the moment. In the back of her consciousness, a bullet was slid into a chamber.

                                                                    ~*~

Her lover returned, and she took the refilled soda cup. They chatted about nothing for several minutes, picking at the last bites of their meals. They talked about boring things, couple things. The upcoming wedding of shared friends. Her lover’s dog which needed to go to the vet. The politics of her office. Here Jenna changed the subject, she didn’t have enough information about that topic to make an interesting anecdote for her lover. They talked about an amusing commercial they’d seen on the television. Her lover asked her if she was ready to go.

‘Can we stay a bit longer,’ she asked. She could feel the weight of the gun, her own consciousness, in her hands now.

                                                                   ~*~

They were back at James’ apartment, it was closer than her’s. The front door was still being kicked closed when James pressed her against the wall. She had fistfuls of his hair and his own hands moved up and down her body. She twisted a leg around his own, dragging him closer with it and pushing her hips against his. Their kisses were deep, one of them moaned, but she couldn’t be sure which of them made the lustful, wanting noise. His hands were squeezing her ass now and she rutted against him.

‘Fuck,’ said James as she lightly bit his neck.

‘Yes, please,’ said Jenna. Her mind was singular, she wanted him.

He pulled her by the hand. She briefly took notice of the living room before they stumbled into his bedroom. A grey cat looked up at them from the bed, ears twitching. The mood faltered.

‘Oh,’ said James and he looked at her a little sheepishly. She giggled as he gently picked up the animal. ‘Cock-blocker,’ he hissed at the cat who gave a little mewl.

’Don’t worry, I’m a cat person,” said Jenna sitting on the bed and bending to pull at the straps of her high heels.

‘Leave ‘em on,’ said James shutting the door on the cat and turning back to face her. ‘They’re sexy.’ She sat up, shoes still in place, the rush of anticipation building inside her again. James was tugging off his tie and undoing the buttons of his dress shirt. His own shoes were already gone. She was about to complain that by undressing himself, he was depriving her of the chance to do it, and it was something she’d been looking forward to. But then he spoke and his words erased the thoughts in her head.

‘I want to taste you,’ said James, kneeling on the floor in front of her, his hands rubbed up her calves, opening her legs. A throb of arousal went through her body. Hands were spidering up her thighs. She moved closer to the edge of the bed, opening herself willingly, eagerly even. She moaned as a hot kiss was pressed into each thigh. Her underwear was pulled down and her skirt shoved upwards. She was utterly exposed to him and he grinned up at her as he moved her legs over his shoulders, positioning himself. Then very deliberately one of the hands on her thigh moved between her legs and started moving up and down. The fingers pushed and then circled, pulling her apart. She felt his fingers enter her and she contracted around them. Relishing what she had been given, but craving more.... But almost immediately his hand was gone. Withdrawn from her body and she gave a cry of distress. He lifted his fingers to his mouth and she watched in a haze of desire. He glanced at her around his own fingers, something mischievous in his eyes.

‘Want a taste?’ he asked

‘No. I want to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before,’ said Jenna sweetly. She enjoyed the impact of her words. James made an involuntary movements with his hips, that looked like a thrust and a lustful look passed over his face. Then he moved forward and before she had time to think his mouth had replaced his fingers.

                                                                  ~*~

Her lover sat back down, looking expectantly at her. She felt a pang looking at him, but she could also feel the echo of James moving over her body. Moving inside her body. She thought of the pleasure she’d taken in James and the pleasures he’d taken in her. Her guilt came from her lack of regret. She couldn’t decide what made her feel worse, the pain she was about to inflict on her lover or the fact that between meeting James and waking up with him, their naked bodies entwined, this morning...she’d forgotten that she’d even had a boyfriend of two and a half years at all.

Trust was such a fragile thing. Now she’d shattered it and walked remorselessly over the pieces. She took a breath and the gun took aim at his heart.

‘There’s something I need to tell you…’

Bang.