Dear Mr. Police Officer,
I am writing this letter to confess a robbery I committed last night, July 10, 2019, at around 6:00 to 7:30. The crime happened in a motel inside room number 426. The bedroom light was turned off but the bathroom lights were on. The air conditioner was humming a familiar tune like a background music of an action movie. At the east side was a mirror attached to the wall and a sofa in front of it. I turned to the television that’s hanging from the ceiling in front of the bed and laughed at it. We all know televisions are useless in a place like this unless you are an inexperienced fella that could use some help from tutorial videos.
I told him I can’t do it, but of course, a slave for pleasure won’t listen to anyone except for the monster inside his pants. I told him I won’t do it but he kept crawling his hands to my chest and caressing the mounds as if it would turn me on. I told him to stop pulling down my jeans but his eyes reflected the green traffic lights, or maybe it was the monster peeking. He pushed me to lie on the bed and tried to kiss me but I looked away. He touched me in places where he thought would wake up the dormant volcano inside me and when he found the entry and opened it using his tongue, I lost control of my senses. I closed my eyes and moaned as my soul left my body, letting another entity, whom I call Maria in reference to Eleven Minutes, to take over the defenseless ship.
He is a Navy man so he brought my body away from the shore where I couldn’t swim, up to the air where ragged breathing and choking is romantic, and to the barren lands where I would surely beg for him to quench my thirst. But I am a writer, and that’s when the game flipped over to my advantage. You see, he was hungrily fucking Maria and I was there watching the show and recording it without him knowing what was really happening. He clearly enjoyed Maria’s performance, including her fake screams of orgasm and rehearsed slumping down into bed, giving the impression that she was exhausted after a mind-blowing sex. She even told him he was so good in bed just to add more drama to the perfect crime I was doing. Maria left my body when they checked out and bid goodbye.
Mr. Police Officer, I stole something from that man. I hijacked his memory, wrote it here in this letter and the credit was all mine. For sure he had already boasted to his colleagues that he laid someone last night considering the little souvenir he took from the motel as proof, but come on, how many are they compared to these eyes reading my letter? This is both our story to tell but I am here spreading my flawless version of it for every person alive and for the next generations to come, and you will only know my name, not his.
One day, he will find out about this letter and he will realize that I robbed him on the same night he raped me.
-------
Photo by @masharaymers (IG)