The End is the Beginning
By Peter Krane
Julie opened her eyes.
Sunlight had begun to stream into the room, illuminating their naked bodies tangled in the twisted sheets.
Julie grumbled and rolled over.
Andy lay next to her. He was sprawled out across the bed. Dried spittle rested on the corner of his mouth and his blond hair was matted to the side of his head. All in all, he was still cute. Julie had little room to herself, but then again, she had spent most of the night on top of him or snug up against his body.
Julie felt the urge to vomit. She rolled off the bed and stumbled through two unfamiliar doorways before finding the bathroom and the toilet.
Hearty bachelorette-juice came ripping up her esophagus and splashed into the toilet. Once. Twice. She waited for a third but knew her yearning would be in vain. She would have paid money for a third retch. Big money. Anything to remove the rest of the pineapple vodkas, the Jell-o shooters, the red drinks, the blue drinks, and the ‘it's-starting-to-get-fuzzy-in-here’ drinks.
She was happy to be cleansed. But the booze had made it easier to do the unthinkable. All women had desires. Few had the courage to indulge in them. But Julie had had help--large amounts of alcohol--the elixir of encouragement.
She flushed the toilet. Remnants of the previous night's indulgences swirled down the pot. Julie waved goodbye.
Julie looked into the bedroom. Andy was motionless on the bed. He had been very intoxicated. And not just from the alcohol. It hadn't surprised her when he had pulled out some freebies--extracurricular fun that could be swallowed whole. But that's what she'd grown to expect from male strippers. They flashed their stuff, then partied long and hard.
Julie had requested a male stripper for her bachelorette party with only one requirement--he had to be blond. Why? She'd never had a blond. And she wanted someone fresh.
She loved her fiancé, John. But if she hadn't gone through with it, hadn't gotten it out of her system, she wasn't sure she would stand by her commitment. Marriage didn't just require devotion; it required responsibility, and most of all, restraint. And Julie had feared her curiosity would eventually overpower her better judgment.
She grabbed her purse, shoes, and the thin skin-tight black dress off the floor, and quickly slipped on her garments and shoes. As she adjusted her dress, her phone vibrated in her purse. She looked at the phone. It was John. He would be worried. She was supposed to be home hours ago.
She held the phone to her ear. "Hey, John."
"I've been worried about you. I heard you were pretty drunk last night."
"Bachelorette parties will do that to you."
He fell silent, collecting himself. "Are you alright?"
Julie heard the tension in his voice change to genuine concern, and she was relieved. "Yeah."
"So you've had your blond. Is it out of your system?" he asked. "All of it?"
Julie took a second to truthfully answer the question. Her eyes wandered to Andy sprawled out on his bed; her eyes ran over every ripple of musculature, from his cheekbones to his calves. Her desire to crawl back into bed with him was subsiding. It was then that she realized she was done.
"It's out of my system," Julie said. "I've had my fun. I'm ready to be a wife." She smiled as she thought about it. "Thank you for being so understanding."
"I'd rather you have an indulgent past than an immoral future." John sounded relieved. "Now, hurry up and come home."
"See you soon. I love you," Julie whispered.
"I love you too," John replied. Then he hung up.
Julie walked to the side of Andy's bed and looked down at him. Slowly, she bent down and kissed him gently on the forehead. The cold chill of his body rushed onto her lips and instantly felt like ice.
Julie reached into her purse and grabbed a pair of small scissors and a plastic bag. She gently grabbed his head and pulled him towards her. His body was stiff and shifted reluctantly. She held the scissors to his forehead, clipped off a lock of his hair, and placed it in the bag and then into her purse, along with her scissors.
She sat down on the edge of the bed and softly ran her fingers through his wavy blond hair. Her fingers traced down his forehead, past his deathly eyes, and around the mouth she had poisoned.
"Thank you for a lovely night," Julie whispered, pulling her purse up to her shoulder. "I'll never forget it." She sighed, looking at the sunlight shining brightly through the bedroom window. "I'm glad you were my last."
The sun shone on her face as she exited Andy's house. It made her smile. Julie breathed in the morning air and walked down the street, stepping into her new life.