Helen part six

[Myron Cumberland]

I left the rally via Uber.  I waited until Helen left the room before I limped out the door to call it.  It was hard standing outside.  The late October wind had picked up, and I had forgotten my hat inside.  I wasn't going back in to be mocked.  I had had enough of those ugly women grabbing their crotches and yodeling, then falling to their knees for Helen's amusement.  Also, my post-bust wood was very visible, and I really didn't want to be teased for my fetish by women whose only experience with male anatomy was their beta boyfriends' flaccidity.  Luckily, the Uber was nice and toasty inside.  When I got home, I threw out all but one of my pictures of Helen.  My favorite was of her at our first date that a photographer had taken.  Helen was wearing a dress that showed off her delicious legs.  It went into a drawer.  I had to be strong.  Helen called that night, but I didn't pick up.  To hell with her.  She called the next morning.  It went to my voicemail.  I ignored her calls for a week before she showed up at my door.  She was wearing a white blouse, a denim skirt, and her knee high black leather boots.  She looked gorgeous, but I wasn't fooled.  I had seen her inner evil, and I wasn't interested.  She asked why I wasn't answering my phone and why I hadn't called her.  I asked what made her think I wanted anything to do with her after she embarrassed and humiliated me in front of her ugly friends.  Then she got defensive.  I had embarrassed her with my remark, and her friends weren't ugly.  I told her I would never have punched her, and that my friends would never have laughed about it and mocked her afterward.  I told her that, while I considered her busting me a form of foreplay, she had violated my trust by doing it in public, and by cheering on her friend who hit me from behind.  She refused to take responsibility.  As I said earlier, no man had ever stood up to her before.  It was a new experience for her, and she didn't like it.  She moved forward to knee me, but I saw her coming, and blocked it, something I had never done before.  She was shocked.  She began unbuttoning her blouse.  I said "No, Helen.  It's over".  To my surprise, she started to cry.  I  had never seen her cry before, and my heart broke.  Was I being cruel?  No, cruel was punching a lover and laughing about it.  I know I said this was the finale, but there's so much more to this story.  End of part six.