Not Good Enough
It’s all I can do to keep myself from crying. But one thing I have never done, one thing I refuse to do, is shed tears over a man. I lie awake in bed, in this dark, cold chamber and fantasize that I was the one on his arm tonight. I know he doesn’t do it on purpose. He doesn’t know how I feel. How could he? I’m the ice princess. I keep everything bottled up inside. I’m cold and indifferent. I strategize and I lead this motley band of brave men and women. I’m not a woman. I’m a soldier, an unfeeling, uncaring diplomat, the reason for the demise of millions of my own people, my family, my father. I am a monster, undeserving of the love of a good man.
I toss and turn for hours, thinking about the times we’ve spent alone together. I’ve seen him looking at me in the twinkling lights of his ship, his dark green eyes beautiful and intense. I recognize the lust in his eyes. He taunts me relentlessly, causing the ice princess to lash out. We fight. It’s a familiar dance, one I wish we could unlearn. I know he’s teasing me when he brushes against me in the corridor, when his fingers linger over mine a little too long, when his scrutinizing gaze catches mine across a crowded room. His touches cause me to quiver with fear and excitement but I’m not one of his conquests and lust is not love. I could settle for nothing less than his love.
The hurt I feel is a physical pain squeezing my heart inside my chest. I don’t want to think about him making love to anyone else but the image of him with her hugged closely to his side, whispering in his ear as they casually stroll up the ramp of his ship tortures me. It should be me, telling him how much I love him, how much I want him to touch me, to make love to me, to make me feel like the woman I can be,only with him. I want to lash out at her. I want to punish her for taking him away from me, even though he is not mine to take. I plot my revenge but know it will never be. I am not always the unfeeling creature people see.
So often I travel with Luke and Han and I sense a friendly rivalry between the two. Which one will win my attentions? But why are they playing this game with me? Don’t they know what I am? I’m sure, Han knows. He is much more mature, a man of the galaxy. Luke seems to have on blinders when it comes to me. To Han, I am a woman to be had, the ultimate conquest to be bedded before his friend can win me. I am nothing more, nothing less. I dream that he wants more but how could he? Why would he? I am a monster.
Oh Han, if only I had as much courage as so many say I have, you would already know how I love you. I’d square my shoulders and lift my chin. I’d stand right up to you and gaze into your eyes. I might even have enough spunk to grip your hand as I press my lips to yours. Would it mean anything to you? Would you love me, too? Could you love me if I let this ice melt? Could you love this monster, this murderer of millions? No, I didn’t think you could. Despite, your rough exterior, Han Solo, we both know that you are too good for me. What regrets I have! I just wish I could make you my lover.
I lay back on my disheveled bunk, sweaty and spent, almost high from my post-orgasmic bliss. Damn that felt good. All the stress and worries of the day washed away with that one simple act. The small woman lying next to me was already asleep. I hate to brag but I’m sure I managed to relieve most of her stress, too, if all of that loud moaning and screaming my name was any indication. I hoped Chewie was already asleep or I’d hear about that later.
I looked over at her small form, her long cinnamon hair flared over my pillow like a wild thing and I regretted that it was her that I had just fucked. I had to admit, physically, she reminded me a lot of the Princess. I guess that’s initially what drew me to her. I usually prefer blondes. At least, I did.
Hell, I know it’s not fair but she knows the game. She’s only in it for the sex, too. We hook up every now and again. No strings attached here. And what’s a guy like me supposed to do anyway? Wait? Hell, I’d be waiting forever. I’m in love with a woman that’s clearly out of my league. I know she could never love me. I’m a pirate, a smuggler, a low-life nobody that’s in love with a real-life princess.
A princess and guy like me? I don’t think so. Even my best friend told me there’s no way. I don’t even know what I was thinking getting hung up on a woman like that, or even how it happened. Damn. She’s definitely not my type. I usually like them to be more like me. A couple of rolls in the sack and we never see each other again. Hell, I’ve been hanging around here for over a year, and for what? Flirting with her? Flirting! Not even a kiss. She doesn’t even act like she likes me most of the time. And if by some miracle of the Force it did happen, then what? I couldn’t be fucking a princess. No, it would never be fucking. If I could, I‘d make love to her.
Make love? Have I ever made love to anybody? I don’t think so.
I left the bed for the fresher and showered alone. I’m pretty sure I’m done with this one. I’ll never get anywhere with Leia if she keeps seeing me with these women. Obviously the getting her jealous thing hasn’t worked. If anything, it’s made things worse. I have noticed that after my last couple of "late night visits" I’ve had a rather frosty reception the next time I see her.
I closed my eyes, leaned into the wall and thought about what it would be like with my Princess. I think I can call her that, for now anyway. She doesn’t belong to anyone else and she is mine in my fantasies. Her lips would be so sweet and taste so good, her body so tiny and timid under mine. Her skin would be soft like fine silk and she would be so moist when I finally touch her center. I know… I just know that she hasn’t been touched by another man and I’d take her slow. I’d love her and I’d be the only man to ever love her like that. I want to be the only lover she’ll ever have.
Sometimes when we’re alone, I look at her and I think how beautiful and vulnerable she is. She would never admit to being vulnerable but I know that she is. She’s strong but she’s scared. Scared of me, of what I could make her feel. She knows she’s too good for me, everyone does. But I’d be so good to her, better than some pretty, rich boy would ever be. I’d never cheat on her. I’d never lie to her. I’d treat her like the princess she is, like a real woman, special. I’d join her damned rebellion or I’d take her away from it. Whatever she asked me to do. I’d do anything for that woman if she’d just tell me that she loves me. If she would just give me a chance. If only I was somebody else, somebody good enough for her, I’d make that princess my lover.