Bowling For Skinnies
|Fiction Novel excerpts, short stories, etc.
Bowling For Skinnies
07-18-2016, 08:17 AM
Join Date: Jun 2012
Bowling for skinnies
Bowling For Skinnies
Prayer had never seemed quite so appealing. Tossing an emptied carton of Marlboro Reds, Charlie wishes aloud for more cigarettes and a White Stripes reunion tour. She is leaned out the window of her car. 67’ Orange GTO. It looked new and smelled ancient, which could be chalked up to the chain smoking that pulsed between her and her father and his carnal need to refurbish the relics of his youth.
Charlie leans on the horn.
The noise must invite some sort of initiative or respect or something from the girls because just then they step out Ellie’s house not quite all the way ready. Misha is walking out ahead of Ellie and has yet to slip one of her arms into its jacket-sleeve. Puffy jackets had been raging for the past year or so. Ugly fucking things. Ellie is raving something fierce about the cold, which is especially so for March.
Leaning the passenger seat forward, both girls climb into the rear and continue drinking. Gold-brushed chain-links from black leather purses clink against one another and hands press and erase window fog. Charlie twists the key, letting the car’s ignition ring clear out into the hills of Newport.
The GTO roars, gunning down a shaft of backroad, passing by dozens of wintered orchards. Charlie opens her eyes as the car is pulling to the left. ‘I fell in love with a girl… I fell in love with a girl’ she is singing along to the stereo. Loosening her vice on the wheel, Charlie spreads her knuckles and welcomes a warmth to her palms.
Misha moves up to the passenger’s seat, hugging it in reverse cowgirl to look back at Ellie. The girls are passing around a forty of Cuervo. The shots come easy and move both from the bottle to their mouths to the stomach, to the intestines, the bloodstream, liver, etc. – and from mouth to chin to upholstery and dress to bare skin.
Ellie is saying, “I bet he has a huge cock. Well not huge, but like solid. Like Jason’s cock.”
Misha: “Wow, you’re such a slut! Who the fuck’s seen Jason effing Palmer’s cock? Ew.”
“Everybody has, didn’t you see that pic he sent to Suzy? Actually, I definitely showed it to you. And I don’t even know what you’re talking about, I think he’s super cute.”
“I mean, cute for a construction guy or a goat or something like that. Isn’t his mom Greek?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I’m just saying he looks like if you didn’t shave for a couple weeks, he’d probably have more of a field day with your bush than your box. Besides he’s European.”
“And so his dick probably looks like the top of a turtleneck sweater. They don’t believe in women’s visual rights over there. So if you’re into that kind of thing.”
“What, no way. Jewish people are from overseas too, they pretty much invented circumcision. Not to mention women in France grow out their leg hair on purpose. Europe’s super pro-women.”
“Hey, if you’re into that kind of thing.”
Misha bends overtop the headrest into the second row. “You fucking love it,” she keeps saying. Twisting and turning her trunk, glints of black lace and areola peek above the leather of Misha’s top. Ellie presses her face to Misha’s rack, motorboating her boobs in a froth of blonde hair until Misha pulls away.
“I knew you were a lezbo! What did I tell you, Charlie? You know what? You should just let Chet down easy tonight before he gets way too attached to your tiny ass.”
“Ha. Why? It’s not like he’d go running to you.”
“But how couldn’t he? I mean honestly you’re a cutie, Ellie but you’re just a girl and I’m a woman and you let a boy get a glimpse of all this, and well…”
“And well what?”
“And well, no contest.”
Ellie unscrews the bottle of tequila and takes a big swig for her size.
“Alright then. Let’s find out.”
“Aw, sweetie, relax. He’s only human.”
“I’m serious. You should try and fuck him. Seriously.”
Misha spins to Charlie. “You heard that right? That’s consent I think.”
“Ellie, you should forget about it. Meesh has had half the grade inside her. You can’t even wanna compete with that,” Charlie assures her.
“And what, you guys don’t think I can hold my own? I can get a guy. Guys like me.”
“Guys settle for you.”
“Giving lap dances and drugging guys doesn’t make you any more pretty than me.”
“I know people who would disagree with that. A lot of people actually.”
“Bravo, Meesh.” Ellie says clapping her hands.
“And you know, waiting for Chet to get plastered at Homecoming is the same as dropping some love in his drink.” Misha reaches into her bra, removing and shaking a baggy holding a few powder filled pills. “Don’t you?”
“Who said I wasn’t putting something lovely in his drink?”
Ellie is now giggling, biting the bag and dragging it slowly from Misha’s hand.
“Oh fuck, I think that was it.” Charlie says and setting the break to the floor, turning the wheel to the left.
“Yeah.” Ellie + Misha.
They continue back the way they came and then to the right down Jameson Road. As if blessed by some secondary moon, the night clouds pump a red red light into the atmosphere.
Ellie passes a mostly empty bottle to Misha.
“Ooopen. Open wide. Widaa,” Misha calls to Charlie.
Charlie shuts her eyes and looks up at the roof, opening her mouth. Misha wets Charlie’s hair with almost all of what was left in the bottle, having less than an ounce land in her mouth. Unfazed or unaware Charlie straightens and accelerates the car, shaking her head and smiling but not laughing, exposing a uniform thicket of ivory.
The girls barrel toward a dead end crowned by a plaster white flathouse with many brown rooves and many different wings and sections. What could be a mile of cars blankets either side of Jameson, which doesn’t deter Charlie who keeps on straight.
Although the Audis and Porches and Bimmers will, by tomorrow, dent the rim of the lawn adorning the edges of Jameson Road, it will ultimately be covered in snow and frost until such a time that winter is eschewed by spring and some man will be brought in to evaluate and subsequently manicure the landscaping of the Jameson estates, this entire stretch included.
Arriving at the end of the street, at the house, Charlie brings the car to a FAST stop on the frontyard. Climbing out of the Pontiac the girls, Charlie and Misha first and then Ellie out of the back, sit and lean against the hood to smoke. Some twenty or thirty people are also in the yard making out and drinking and pissing.
“So we’re really going in.”
Charlie pulls a lighter from a black silk bomber jacket, embroidered with something orange on the back. “The road home is right behind you Meesh. Feel free.” Shortish unbanged hair is tucked behind her ears.
“But, honestly Charlie, look around, really look who’s here. I see fucking Manny Cooper right over there talking to Ian Dunn. I can pretty much smell Dunn from here. Just look at his floppy ginger mess.”
“Oh god. But did we actually end up at Chet Jameson’s? This is going to be a goddamn nightmare. It’s Thursday. Let’s drive around or something,” Ellie says standing to face the group. It’s out of genuine panic and Charlie is laughing.
“Ellie, Ellie, calm down, let’s just, take in what’s happening you know? Can’t we just chill, and make fun of all these try-hard skinny bitches? And I want to see if Misha can pull-off the Chet thing anyways.”
Misha motions with her head to a large tree (willow), at a group of four or five girls in white laced things and powder blue tutus and preened heels and black jeans and draped silverchains. “You mean like them over there. I could make time for that.”
“Its just not a good look. I wish someone would pass on the wonders of eating to those poor bitches.”
“Fucking that twig’s boyfriend was lesson enough I think, Charlie.”
“For who?” Charlie jumps up and is walking with pep towards the Skinny Girls then turns back. “What she doesn’t know can’t get me wet.”
Through a couple centimeters – leagues – of slush the girls wade at the Skinny Girls, leaving a triplet of heel paw tracks. Charlie moves her whole upper body when she walks but in an elegant way, mostly because of how her chin floats above everything. Misha, Charlie and Ellie flaunt toned asses – bodies – under black tights and Charlie wears a skirt as well.
Charlie offers a cig to a shivering Skinny Girl in a backless white lace dress. Her frame is tall and lite and looks to support barely any breasts.
“Uh, yeah. Thanks, Charlie. I… haven’t seen you guys out in a while.”
“Mhmm, Love, it’s been a while for sure. Lately, we’ve usually just ended up out, grabbing a bite to eat or whatever.”
“Oh yeah, for sure. That’s coo –”
“But tonight we figured, fuck it right? Chet Jameson’s thing only comes but once a year. Feels like Easter doesn’t it.” Charlie is laughing and isn’t looking at any of the girls in particular or at all even.
“Is that your car? So cool.” One of the Skinny Girls.
“Well it’s my dad’s and he loves it more than me so I’m entitled to my time with it, yeah.”
“So, cool.” Another one of the Skinny Girls.
Charlie leans on the tree between a few of the Skinny Girls. Then there is a shout that trails behind a kid as he is thrown through the front door of the house. Like some penguin he slides through a slush pond, face first. Following the kid is more of a man, wearing a leather jacket with silver studs and skinny gray sweatpants. His hair is long and black and dances in porchlight.
“Well here’s your chance, Meesh. Let’s see you seduce the fuck out of Chet.” Ellie.
“I don’t really know why you’re rushing me to take your man, Elf. Let him get his bearings first, the man’s clearly got things going on.”
“But I thought Chet was with Stef Monroe?” Val.
“Yeah I heard tha –” Yet another one of the Skinny Girls.
“And I thought a woman couldn’t weigh less than a Graham cracker, Valerie. Tonight’s just surprises and fun and more surprises, hmm?”
“Misha.” Charlie scolds, baring her gums and teeth and all.
Chet reaches the Boy in stride and marches on, dragging him by longer-than-shoulder-length hair. The Longhair Boy’s jeans are soaking through and slide down past his ass.
“Commando was a bad choice!” Shouts Misha, loving it.
Chet is panting hard and dragging him.
“You picked… the wrong day… to step on my cat… faggot. And now I have to put you down in… front of all your friends.”
“I’m sorry man, I’m so sorry. I just didn’t see the fucking cat man, I just didn’t see the fucking cat.”
“Shut-the-fuck-up, Simpson! Fetty deserves so much more than freaks like you, man.”
Chet crouches to Simpson’s level, slicking back his hair and holding his mouth.
“How can you – hey.”
Chet turns the boy’s face toward him.
“How can you tell me you didn’t see that gorgeous boy. Huh? That precious little boy. Just tell me that. Just tell me so I won’t have to put you down, out here.”
“Dude, I was in the basement –”
“And I go to the fridge –”
“Go to the fridge to get what, Simpson?” Exhaled breath suspends about Chet like a halo.
“I go to the fridge and I go to grab a beer. Yeah, I go to get a beer and I turn and its dark and –”
“Now, not just for nothing, but I need to know what, exactly, you got from the fridge. Because from where I am – from down here – you smell like uhm, I dunno, I can’t quite say. Like lager or something. Not that there’s anything wrong with lager, hell my fridge is full of lager, but I’m also looking at your boots and I’m seeing the better half of a chunk of something that used to be Whisker’s guts, you know? And I’m thinking if this faggot thinks he can walk into my party, my house and just take one of my drinks and kill my fucking kitten and run down my fucking street and get away with it and that everything’s just peachy you know…” Chet calmly adjusts his hair, his chin is pointed up; he studies Simpson. “Well, what would people say?”
Simpson’s eyes are shut and he sits there whimpering for a long time until Chet slaps his face and grabs his jaw and turns it to face him again.
The exchange continues for a bit and Chet stands up and walks away and then turns back shouting. Then he yanks Simpson to the tree a few steps behind them and lays him down on it. Chet leans in close to his face and says something about Natty Lite before cocking his arm back and expunging the consciousness from the boy. He starts by wailing on his face and neck. Then he is kicking his chest with the heel of his boot, digging further and further into Simpson’s body, mining for tree bark. He stops after a while and walks away fixing his hair and is still panting. Misha swings her hair around then and is walking as quickly as one might in heels in snow towards a triumphant Chet, waving goodbye without looking at the girls.
“Looks like she’s got him.” Charlie.
“Head soon, Charlie? Now even.” Ellie.
“Cool. So, Val how ‘bout it?”
“How ‘bout what?”
“Come join us in the town. For a girl’s night.”
“I, Sure. Yeah, that sounds cool.”
“Parfait.” Ellie is already treading back to the orange chariot.
Ellie hops in the back and leaves the shotgun seat up for Valerie to put down. By the time she has readjusted the seat to her liking, the car is halfway to the end of Jameson. Ellie has lit a joint and smokes half before passing it to Val. The ash spreads to the crevices of the car, mingling with bits of old lint and new lint and unsalvaged playing cards and still wrapped Happy Meal toys.
“So, Val, settle something for us,” Ellie says. “Christian is a total fucking babe right? I mean not even just for an old guy.”
“Who’s Christian again?” Valerie asks dragging on the phattie.
“Oh my go – Mr. Sims.”
“Oh, yeah, definitely.”
“See, me and the girls were talking earlier,” Ellie leans right to the back of Valerie’s chair, and puts her head next to Valerie’s head: “We think he must have quite, the cock.”
“I dunno, I guess so too. Just from how he walks and his hands. He could really have me any time if he wanted – at school even.”
“Owww! Christ she’s a wild one, Charlie! At school?”
“Oh def. Wouldn’t you? Just Imagine, him holding you. He’s just so rugged and. And everything.”
“Well, rumor has it your rugged Mr. Everything is downtown right now. We could go catch him at his worst. How about it?”
“Uh, like right now or…?”
“Yeah! Let’s put some dick between you and those fantasies.”
“You know what, Ellie? I think our little girl has a thing for Mr. Sims. Isn’t that right, BB. No worries, you’ll do great. You come with us, you’ll do fine.”
“You know what I think she’s really thinking about?” Ellie is climbing around the passenger seat, putting her head in Valerie’s lap. “Is how well… She sucks cock.” Ellie starts gagging on an imaginary package. “Because you just know a guy like that – gag – has seen the best –” Ellie looks up at Valerie wiping her mouth, “And the worst of his students. Time and time again.”
“He’s already been with somebody? Who?”
“I don’t know, but there’s no way he hasn’t. What kind of guy could be immune to that kind of attention? I bet he breaks kosher, probably once – at least once a semester.”
“Oh shit, you totally blew him!”
Ellie smacks the back of Valerie’s head.
“Watch your mouth, you little cunt.”
“Ooo, testy. Someone’s testy.” Valerie is brimming at her joke.
The GTO explodes into Newport at a hundred miles an hour. Passing lampposts strobe the inside of the car. Flash. Flash. Flash. Flash. Ellie notices Valerie in the light.
“You really are very pretty, Valerie.”
Valerie smiles and sinks further into the chair, wishing she had brought her coat or something because the car is not much above freezing – her skin much too thin for Canadian winter.
After driving for half an hour they arrive at OSMO Bar, somehow finding parking only a block away between a Volkswagen and a Volvo. Charlie throws the 8-ball shifter in park and slams the door without locking it, making off for OSMO.
Valerie is examining her fake ID under the streetlights.
“But this shit is so fake. I mean what if uh…” snapping her fingers.
“Yeah! Luke. If Luke can’t get us in? Just like, what if the other bouncers don’t buy it or they make us wait for the owner or something –”
“Val, cool it. It’s no biggie, trust me. Luke loooves us, he’s gotten us in a bunch of times. I just text him a few minutes ago too and he knows we’re coming – besides, they’ll never turn down snatch, they NEED it. Girls like us? We move half the drinks at a place like this. No us, no guys, no money.”
Coming up to it, OSMO is just a weathered biker bar in a parking lot beside a 7/11 on what used to be a busy street. The 30-foot-tall, double billboards in the parking lot are constantly revolving images of Bud-lights and ads for the Newport Rays – the local bball team. It all screams heyday.
Most of Valerie’s legs and her back down to pretty much her ass are exposed to the wind shooting off the lake and she pulls the lace tightly around her arms, praying Luke is at the door, praying Luke isn’t some kind of irresponsible douchebag.
But they get to the side entrance and Luke is there as promised, smiling and more handsome than Valerie would’ve guessed.
Luke holds the door for them and is charming enough and hands them a couple drink tickets each of which haven’t been valid since last month but ‘will be’ accepted by the bartenders regardless.
Upbeat country booms in all directions. Ellie’s hair glows wicked green under the UV and orange neon lights running the whole inside of OSMO. As the girls negotiate through the rising tide of crowd they are stopped once by a drag queen in dungarees and a cowboy(girl?) hat and once by a balding fatty named WILLIAM who is high off his ass and grinning from ear to ear.
“Hey Big Boy.” Charlie offers, making to keep walking past him.
“SO HOW YOU LADIES DOING?! Haha! YOU GUYS HAVING FUN? LOTS OF SHOTS?”
“YOU GUYS BEEN HERE BEFORE?” He is still asking.
“CAUSE I KNOW IT’S KIND OF A SHITSHOW RIGHT NOW, BUT JUST WAIT. YOU SHOULD SEE THIS PLACE IN LIKE… IN AN HOUR. MAN! AT AROUND ONEISH THEY TURN ON THE MECHANICAL BULL – UP THERE ON THE STAGE – AND THERE’S THIS CRAZY PRIZE GIVEAWAY. LIKE ONE FOR LONGEST RIDE, AND ONE FOR BEST FALL, AND A FEW FOR NICEST THONGS. Haha! YOU GUYS NEED DRINKS? LET’S GET DRINKS.”
Charlie finally gets eyes on Mr. Sims above the chrome-y flash of WILL’s scalp. Moving toward Sims, Charlie pulls Valerie by the hand and Ellie follows.
Mr. Sims is posted at the main bar with a friend in tow. Sims is wearing a slim-fit white t-shirt and is handsome and tall with electric blue-eyes and is at least two weeks between trips to a barber.
“Surprise, surprise! Fancy running into you ladies tonight. Jacko these are a couple of my students.” Pointing to Ellie, “That’s Ms. Briggs,” pointing to Charlie, “This is Ms. Knox… And sorry sweetheart, I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure.”
Valerie mumbles: “Ms. Rose – well Valerie, but… yeah. And you actually had me last year in advanced functions so.”
“Oh yeah, yeah, yeah. My mistake – And this is Albany Rose. Girls, this one of best buds – Jack.”
Jack is making sexy eyes at Ellie between long blinks and bouts of heavy leaning on the bar.
“So are you boys gonna buy us shots or what?”
“Oh you must not have heard.”
“Chris, I don’t think they’re aware. Make ‘em aware Chris!”
“Ladies, I – we would love to buy you all drinks but we can’t. It’s guys night –”
“Ladies are buying all drinks tonight!!”
“Charming. You guys must have quite a few lady friends around,” Charlie.
“I would but really – my hands are tied. I can guarantee this conversation is fairly illegal. You’re grade twelves! Is nothing sacred?”
“Chris. Jesus Christ, let the women be! It’s just one humble man’s opinion but they – you could all pass for twenty-two – easy. If I ran the bar… Easy!”
“Soooo sketchy,” Ellie says looking up from her phone.
“Okay I’ll bite. Pick your poison Chris.” Charlie.
“No, no, no its fine, don’t worry about it. This is already inappropriate.”
“We should go all the way then. No fun in compromise.”
“I like this chick’s moxie.” Jack.
Charlie touts a cheeky smile behind a fan of several drink tickets in her hand.
“All right, all right. Get me a water. And get him a water too. He’s done. We’re done.” Sims says. Jack is now leaned precariously on the bar, and looks to have fallen asleep with his eyes opened to Ellie. Charlie waits, looking expectantly at Sims.
“Pretty please.” Sims.
“Well, Val you heard the man. Let’s get these boys their drinks. They deserve it.”
Valerie and Charlie move further down the bar to where the drinks are served and spread all their tickets out on the table in a straight row. Charlie is arranging the tickets, moving them up and down like a dealer showing best hand in Texas Hold’em.
“No, I thought there’d be a bit more intrigue in seducing Mr. Sims, and yet here we are talking about how we’re about to fondle his stuff. You excited?”
“Is that what’s happening? Are you sure he was into it? He’s kind of all over the place. And what about his friend? Oh my god he is such a dickhead. How drunk?”
“Yeah, perfect isn’t it? You should use the washroom. By the way.”
“Ah, I’m fine thanks.”
“Because I bet you haven’t showered since today and your couchie probably reeks to high heaven and you’re not getting no stank in my ride, you just aren’t.”
“Bring Ellie too; I’m sure she’s had enough charm from the sleeping man with a baby hard-on.”
Valerie looks to say something but her head reaches some level of capacity and she ends up leaving confused.
“Would you get me four shots of Martial Law, a Mike’s Hard in a glass, and a Caesar – spicy. Please.” To the bartender.
“Sure thing.” (Like a merry cunt)
Charlie has ALL the drink tickets in front of her, which is easily fifteen, and although she has more than enough, the bartender takes all the tickets and starts mixing the drinks. The bartender is not overweight but a big boned, Latina woman who looks to want kids some day soon, is sullen faced and probably hasn’t slept with a man in a long time. She may even be a lesbian.
The woman behind the counter returns surprisingly quickly. Charlie flashes an empty smile and withholds tip out of principle. “That’s it,” and then mouths: thanks-so-much.
The bartender gives a bitchy smile like she’s whizzed in the drinks and leaves. Charlie waits until the bartender has left for sure and pulls the ziploc from her pocket. On the bar top Charlie puts equal amounts of white powder in two of the MARTIAL LAWs, empting the vial. Charlie drinks one of the unspiked shots of MARTIAL LAW and leans back to the bar, looking into the middle of the bar-crowd.
Charlie’s phone rings and for the third time tonight a picture of her dad flashes a smile to the inside of her bra. Fathers have made ritual of constantly marathoning their daughters. Into psychosis, into worrying; out of fun, out of life.
Eventually Charlie spots Valerie talking to Sims, he is laughing gregariously. Charlie and Sims make eye-contact and she waves him over. Charlie is half-finished the Caesar.
“Oi, Val, where’s Ellie?”
“She’s out there, somewhere – dancing with some rad Indian fella.” Valerie says, pointing in the direction of a wall.
“She’s really going at it. Feisty! I tell you. Feisty!” Christian says like a cowboy would have, had his horse just done some cool shit.
“I guess we’ll pour her Mike’s for the homies. And I believe this belongs to one, Christian Sims. Sims?”
Charlie hands Sims a spiked MARTIAL LAW shot. Sims holds it up to his face, examining it.
“Water just isn’t as it used to be I guess. All out of cash?”
“All out of patience. This is better for you. Drink up. You too, Val.” Charlie says handing Val the other spiked shot of MARTIAL LAW.
“So what’s this now?” Christian.
“Half-measure Bacardi 151, full-measure of 1797 Roquette – that’s 150 proof – double measure of Jaeger, topped with chili flakes and love.”
“Mmm.” Chris smells it. “How’s the kick?”
“Like sand thru a fire hose.”
Charlie, Chris and Val intertwine arms in the weird way college girls will and stroke back the shots.
Sims, Charlie + Valerie are now outside smoking next to the side-entrance, standing in front of a multi-colored neon sign, featuring a robotic woman riding a mechanical bull. Sims and Valerie are pretty FUCKED, arcane powder from the Ziploc Pills considered, while Charlie is only fairly MANGLED, considering she’s been taking shots MARTIAL LAW and spicy Caesars.
“All I’m saying is the theory is sound,” Sims explains. “Take, um, take Lake Bell, for example. Great body. Right? Unbelievable, perfect body, even. And her face – looks like a horse. But I can’t imagine it’d be the same without the face – it’s just that little bit of imperfection that brings her that special – Mwwaah – something. She might even, be hotter with the face.”
“So you’re saying she’s more attractive, as a less attractive woman? Is that what you’re – that can’t be what he’s –”
“Yes, yes, yes. That’s exactly it Charlie! Exactly it! Would you know her otherwise really? I’ll bet her career is at least in part due to that face of hers.”
“How? That doesn’t even make sense.” Valerie.
“Let’s say there exists – somewhere in the Meta – a woman with body equal to or equivalent to that of Lake Bell’s, right? But now the face, the face is much less unique, more, womanly. Nicer nose, slimmed jaw – all of that. And in that universe, that chick is walking into interviews and auditions and acting classes with like a massive complex. Like ‘No I won’t suck your dick to get that part, my agent actually has four commercials lined up for me in the next month AND, a photoset with Terry Richardson. I’ll BE fine!’ You know? Meanwhile our Lake Bell, bless her soul, is working hard in class and taking backshots from producers and learning to be funny and interesting – advancing her career. You get it right? It’s all just the institution of beauty.”
“Who the fuck is Lake Bell?” Charlie.
“Hey Luke! Luke!” Valerie calls to a bouncer who isn’t Luke.
He turns to look.
“Come weigh in on this. Does this stuff actually concern you on a daily basis? How often is this something you think about?”
The bouncer ignores her, turning back to his post.
“Oh, alright whatever, dick. All I’m saying is you guys are fucked up. You men are all… you know – like jumbled in there.”
Val moves her hands around her head, trying to insinuate insanity but just markets her drunkenness to the ghosts of the parking lot.
“Women are pretty bad. But Sims women are worse. Not even the same league. I’ve heard my wife and my sister go into depthabout how it is impossible to not like Shemar Moore. Depth. The dude from Criminal Minds! How? In fact Ellen – Ellen DeGeneres – had him on her show once, and she admitted to a studio audience she found him attractive as a completely proud homosexual woman. Explain that!”
“I don’t know. I think you’re the only one who could explain why you’re watching Ellen. I’m sorry.”
“Shemar Moore is gorgeeeous! My mom doesn’t even like black men and she and me talked about how sexi he is. He’s my Celebrity freebie. If I ever get married, he’s my mulligan.”
“OMG, guilty, SAME!” Sims yells.
“Alright ladies. Another time? Chris, shouldn’t you be making your way home soon?” Charlie says.
The group tosses their blackened butts and walk out of the parking lot, to the street.
“Not tonight! Erin’s out of town allll weekend. I’m free as a bird, don’t want fly away. I dunno where the floor is, gotta know where my soul is… dah dah dun, I’m like a bird…”
They come to the GTO and all climb in, Sims and Val in the back.
“All right champ where do you live?”
“You are… just incredibly beautiful – do you know that?” Val is gushing at Sims.
“On.. on chestnut. 45.” He is smiling at Val, and rubbing her leg.
By the time they arrive at Sims’s it is easily three in the morning. It has started to snow through the pitch black. The quiet of Chestnut Cr. lends a suburban hush to the whole affair. All the houses are echoes in a valley: Brown and maroon addled bricking with brown shingling defined the street. It’s mediocre and depressing.
Val and Sims have been frenching for most of the trip, and while it lacked any element of physical escalation there was an abundance of noise Charlie wished had proven otherwise. Val was a romantic. Straddling Sims, she was all “Uh’s” and gasps and eyes closeds and lay-back-and-do-nothings. Sims was eerily similar. They required catalyst.
Cutting the engine Charlie reached into the back and undid the tie of Val’s top. They should’ve made the 40 steps to the house, made a night of it. But the drugees were swaying between here and there and would’ve proved impossible. Charlie relented and undressed.
Valerie’s boobs were actually very shapely B’s but were of a flatter disposition and hid from recognition. But for whatever reason – probably the thin skin – they relished in a greenish hue and hash of veins, generally reserved for those breasts of exemplary caliber and mass.
The sex was uneventful and quick. The back was cramped and wasn’t ideal for two, much less a threesome. Charlie spent most of it in the front, gathering musings and jerking off Sims and rubbing Valerie. Sims finished loudly while eating off Charlie.
In a kind of anti-ceremony, Charlie helped Sims come to his feet as he left the car. It was short-lived and he fell quite finally into the dust of flurries on his lawn. Optionless, Charlie left him to spend the night in snow and grass in front of his house.
Last edited by Odonne; 07-18-2016 at 09:04 AM..
07-22-2016, 10:30 AM
Join Date: Jul 2016
Location: South Bend, IN
Thanked 1 Time in 1 Post
I really enjoy Charlie. She reminds me of the character from the Melissa Etheridge song All American Girl.
07-22-2016, 10:31 AM
Join Date: Jul 2016
Location: South Bend, IN
Thanked 1 Time in 1 Post
I really want to come back to this story, and to this woman again and again.
07-23-2016, 12:54 PM
Join Date: Jun 2012
Originally Posted by Chris Gibson
I really enjoy Charlie. She reminds me of the character from the Melissa Etheridge song All American Girl.
Never heard this song before either, nice vibe
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