The Love Bomber: A Bite-Sized Erotic Thriller by Emerson Dameron
•Emerson Dameron•Season 5
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A puzzled, reflective, and furtively passionate man makes an affection connection - and now he needs protection. Join him on the run from her ferocious fatwa - and his hidden, forbidden, dangerous desires.
The Love Bomber is a Bite-Sized Erotic Thriller by Emerson Dameron, available for download on Emerson Dameron's Metta Bomb: https://emersondameron.bandcamp.com/album/metta-bomb
I was feeling lonely, desensitized, dislocated, metaphorically and literally as well. I'd moved to a small town, which I will not identify. It wasn't in the middle of nowhere. It was closer to the edges of nowhere. I didn't know anyone, and that was good. I've said in the past that I get into very intense relationships because I'm bad at picking up signals and that I like love bombing because it's one of the only ways to get through to me. Unfortunately, that's kidding on the square, meaning telling a joke that is also a statement of fact. All of my relationships have been dangerously intense. Yes, I realize that I am the common denominator in these. It's my problem. I'm working on myself, and by working on myself, I mean I'm practicing yoga so that eventually I can perform autofallacio, and then I will be happier than I ever imagined possible. I'm not quite there yet. I didn't get there in time to avoid running into Kelly at a local bar. And I looked in her eyes and I told her that she had beautiful eyes, and she looked deeply back into mine. That was the beginning of an explosive relationship. Metaphorically and literally. The love bombing commenced immediately. I received daily text messages. But I didn't respond. They became more and more frantic. I received art objects under the windshield wiper of my car. I was basically kidnapped several times and taken to a local truck stop in the middle of the night. Kelly's hangout, where we consumed trucker speed and drank coffee, which only escalated the intensity of our relationship. The sex was indescribable, violently passionate. We were the best lovers and haters we'd ever had. It was quite insane. The whole thing was quite insane. And it became too much. It became too intense. My avoidant behaviors kicked in. I distanced myself, which led to love bombing in the literal sense. Bombs began to go off in and around my domicile, near my workplace, in other parts of the city, that my routines would have predicted that I would have been in, but that I'd been thoughtful enough to avoid. I recall the line from the late rapper, the notorious BIG. What's beef? Beef is when you make your enemies start your cheap. This occurred to me one morning when I was on my way to work and I was about to get in my Honda Civic. On the way out of my home, I ran into one of my neighbors who was walking his ferret. That alone would make most people the most fascinating person in the world. But this guy was so obsequious and eager to please that even I found it disgusting. On an impulse, I asked him to get in my Honda Civic and turn the keys and fire it up because he wanted to be my friend so bad, because he wanted to impress me, or anyone so badly, he complied. The car exploded, starting a car fire that consumed five other vehicles. It was obviously Kelly's handiwork. She was a bomber by nature from a long line of bombs. She created literal bombs as well as metaphorical bombs. She wrote and produced one-act plays that were all about me that were not particularly flattering, or extremely flattering when things were going well and the sex was the bomb. All of the plays bombed. When we broke up, I was subject to bombs. When we had makeup sex, it was the bomb. When we had breakup sex, it was the bomb. Then we broke up again, and the bombs went off. Most of them did go off. A few of them were defused by the local bomb squad, which consisted of one person, Bomb Squad Julie. Again, this is a small town. Julie wore her hair in a buzz cut and was all business, somewhat gruff. She didn't seem to like me very much at first, which was kind of a relief after all this. But we got to know each other very well, putting details of our lives. She got to know the most embarrassing detail of my life, which was my on-again, off-again relationship with a woman who was in the habit of trying to blow me up, and often accidentally blowing up people close to me. I was learning not to care about anyone because as soon as I invested in a friendship or tried to start an escape pod relationship, I would lose that person in a bombing. Almost inevitably. You could set your watch by it, or a timer on a bomb. Bomb Squad Julie got to know all about this. Much as I was teaching myself to be desensitized, she was of a cynical bent. And we bonded over that. And one day, after she was done diffusing a bomb, she wiped the sweat from her brow and took off her glasses. I looked directly into her eyes, piercing green eyes. I said, You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. You have eclipsed the woman that's been trying to blow me up, the previous record holder for beautiful eyes. And now I'm not interested in her anymore. I'm interested in you, the new Queen of Eyes. We had incredible sex at that point. Green eyes are associated with a high tolerance for pain. It was so good that we did not hear the airplane. We didn't notice the falling bombs, the explosions, or of a piece with the explosive sex that we were having. I provided her with cascading orgasms. I came inside of her because why not? We were all going to be dead within a few minutes. And in the afterglow, we embraced each other. We embraced our fates. We embraced the end of the world. We sang, what a wonderful world. And all of our problems were solved.
