It meant nothing, she said

[Re****]

Another one, in her prime, seduced by my fame she yearned for a slice of attention for herself. Eleven years younger, living her life day by day. Introduced to me by Bobby, my life long family friend, and her neighbour.
She played a tricky game. Silently she existed at our table, soaking in every dialogue and maintaining that perfectly permanent half smile. No teeth on show, but she smiled. I could see it in her eyes. She said nothing. She listened. She lasted as long as she did because no one ever had a reason to question her presence. Like a quiet mouse in the corner of a room, everyone knew she was there, but no one minded because it didn’t cause any concern. I knew she was there too. She wanted me to know. I captured her eyes from time to time glancing at me, and holding still, as though she’s looking right into my soul. Maybe she did? The quieter she was, the louder I could feel her. I wanted to feel her. She caught me in her web of silent game. For 3 months I was merely an object of observation, little did I suspect, I was becoming her victim. Through private utterances she delivered her spells, making me cherish her whispers, worship her hushed voice, for she ever only spoke to me. Once in a while. I fell at her incantation of nothings. And I craved to hear more. I hungered for her voice, the loud and clear kind. I died for her moan.
The fateful night I was finally alone with her. The usual confidence departed through my pores, and I felt shivers. What am I afraid of? Afraid of her unknowns? Like death, she kissed my forehead first and I gasped for air, yet my mouth was not obstructed. My hands desired to feel her body but my arms failed like some branches heavy after a drenching downpour. I just sat there, on her chair, in her bedroom, unfamiliar territory, completely at her mercy. Yet to hear that voice, that moan I imagined a million times till now. Unfazed she unzipped my pants and pulled me out. She smirked for the first time and still said nothing. Mounting herself expertly on top she enveloped me with her warmth. I’ve done this a thousand times. Probably more. So why does it feel like it’s my first?! Like I have never been inside before, like I don’t know what’s to happen next. Maybe I didn’t? An act such as this, a routine experience, felt strange, extraordinary, brand new and heavenly. I still couldn’t lift my arms, absolved of all my movements, I was involuntarily consumed by her. Those smiling eyes and the warmth. That’s all I could feel. And it was everything, everything I ever wanted, without knowing just how much.
It ended as quickly as it began and like a schoolboy looking for reassurance I asked her,
How was it?
She smirked one last time and answered, “it meant nothing”.
I felt no fame, no glory, no self importance as I did before. I felt nothing but the crushing of my very soul. How naive it was of me to think that she was just ‘another one’. When in fact, it was I.