Chương 39: Thoughts Of Guilt
In bed, his muscles a patchwork of one connecting soreness to another, Melvin couldn't get to sleep. His eyes stared up at the ceiling without seeing it, looking through it to the place where only one who is lonely and troubled peers during his deepest thoughts: into his own soul. If someone had questioned the integrity of Melvin's soul two days ago, Melvin would have no problem declaring it pure and untarnished. Tired and mistreated, maybe. But still pure. Melvin had never done a wrong thing in his life...
A muscle in his arm twitched fitfully.
But now? Melvin knew that enjoying himself with women was no crime, but he still felt sharp twinges of guilt course through him whenever he thought about the three women he had slept with today: his boss, a woman he had met on the elevator, and an unnamed pizza delivery girl. Last night a woman who had claimed to be a witch had given him a blow job and made him drink a potion that apparently was some kind of love juice. This was more physical satisfaction than he had gotten in a lifetime of unsatisfying female rejection and grief.
Melvin tried to flex his twitching muscle but couldn't.
The root of his guilt was that he didn't really care for any of the women; his boss was a monster bitch, and the other two women he barely knew. The witch still seemed like a figment of his imagination though she was a figment that kept calling his cell phone. He'd used them for his own personal fulfillment, like sex toys. Melvin MacMuffin did not feel comfortable using people, that's not who he was; he was just a mild-mannered accountant. He was Clark Kent without the Superman.
The twitch faded and left his muscle feeling comfortably numb.
Chương 40: Voice Of The Witch In His Head
A voice in his head, one that sounded like the witch's voice said, "Melvin, you weren't using them. They were using YOU. They wanted YOU. You initiated nothing. The women only did to you what they wanted to do."
Still, Melvin had a date with Courtney tomorrow night, a girl that he might actually want to have a lasting relationship with, and here he was banging every female with two legs in sight. What would Courtney think about his newfound habit of using woman as sexual objects? He didn't want her to just like him because of the love juice, because she wanted to jump his bones; he wanted Courtney to like HIM, the real Melvin MacMuffin.
The witch's voice replied, "The real Melvin MacMuffin is no longer that sorry sack of nerdlinger that you keep referring to. The real Melvin MacMuffin is now an official stud Mac-muffin, and you might as well accept it."
Melvin closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, a habit he'd picked up sometime during his younger years and which returned whenever he felt helplessly frustrated. If only there was someone he could talk to about all of this. He considered Richie Golding, but Richie'd probably just laugh at him and tell him that he had lost his mind. Richie would never believe that Melvin had scored with a woman, let alone three different woman in one day.
The thought of Bridget Briswell, the woman from the elevator, passed through his mind. What about the whole attorney-client privilege and all that? He could go up to her firm tomorrow, hire her as his lawyer, and have a nice long talk with her as they sorted through the paperwork. She'd been one of the women he'd slept with, so she would believe him for one thing, at least about the sex part. She was intelligent, being a partner in her own law firm, after all; so maybe she could give him some good advice and clear up a few things along the way.
Yeah, he'd talk to the lovely Bridget Briswell. Anyway, it'd be a smart thing to get his own lawyer because who knew how Olivia Crabapple, his boss, would handle their whole fuck session together? She might have some kind of sexual harassment suit up her sleeve or something; you couldn't put anything past her.
His muscles still aching, Melvin drifted off into a fitful sleep.
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