I have to wrap up the Lady Voldemort story, and this final bit will be the hardest for me to put down on writing. And it's hard because it involves a specific thing that I may have only told one or two people ever. So, as summer 2015 progressed, we actually were managing to maintain a very nice and civil friendship. But this one... oh my lord, this one. This one had plans. And if she couldn't keep me, then she'd try to destroy me.
Things started going south in that respect whenshe invited to go to a festival with her - she had VIP passes on account of being childhood friends with members of a band that was playing - and we had a lot of fun. I got to hang out and talk and get drunk with some really famous people. And just as I was planning to go back home, she asks me if she could stay at my place, she had nowhere to stay. And I felt sorry for her, and said yes. But I also told her that I had my son with me, so she had to be on her best behaviour. When we got home, I prepared a sofa for her in my room, while me and my son slept in my bed. But as soon as she laid on the sofa, she started complaining. Her back hurt. Her legs ached. She wasn't comfortable. And then my son - who'd woken up when we arrived - told her he'd stay on the sofa and she could sleep with me on my bed. I so wasn't looking forward to that, especially because the first thing she did was grab my wee man, if you know what I mean. I told her to stop, but the dumb broad wanted to give me a blowjob. I warned to quit with the antics, or I'd kick her out of my house.
We both went to sleep, and because the next day I had to leave with my son to do something together, I assumed she'd be gone by the time come back. How wrong I was - she ended up staying some two or three more nights. But I was making my discomfort with the situation be very well felt. I was already on tenterhooks by the time she decided to leave. I was pissed off, really. And boy, her revenge would be swift and harsh.
A few days later we were talking and she told me she didn't feel welcome. I told her that she was intruding upon my time with my son. And then the shit hit the fan - she accused of having raped her. I know, this is as crazy as it seems. I asked her when this would have happened, and hey - it was apparently during the last time we had sex, the one that gave her that phantom pregnancy. Now, believe you me, everything that happened that night was wholly consensual on both sides, and I now knew this was just another ploy on her part. But I just felt sad and disappointed with her. She had no need to do these things - she was fairly well known and successful in her own circles, she had plenty of adoration from a legion of guys, and I just wanted to somehow be happy. But it even that, so it seemed, she would deny me.
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