Description - Title tells enough.
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For every girl who gave love, but never received it in return.
1
"Man, you have got to be kidding me," Andrea bursts. I look over to my shoulder and see six girls walking into the bar. They all have a very neat and proper style. Its obvious they've been perfectly raised by their rich Mommies and Daddies. Each one of them are wearing either khakis or capris with cute little shirts. No wrinkly t-shirts, no absurd pierces or heavy jewelry. Just the primp and pertinent style they flaunted.
No wonder Andrea is complaining. She hates preppies.
"Don't they know they are in a dyke bar?" Monica asks.
"Oh, they're gonna know after I go over there," Andrea says. I laugh at this comment while she goes on with her "Billy Bad Ass" portrayal.
"Ah, just leave them," I say. I mean, who cares? I know I certainly don't. I'm here to have a good time just like they are.
"Why?" Monica whines. "They come here and act like idiots anyways. Like, `oh my god, we're in a gay bar.' I don't go to the straight bar and act retarded." I begin rolling my eyes. Here we go. The cynical behavior is about to arise.
"Monica, don't tell me you haven't gone into a straight bar and let out a vibe that you're a lesbian," I say. She couldn't deny it. I had went with her.
"Of course I have," she replies. I watch as she inhales her cigarette. Ugh, how gross.
"Well, there you go. Get on with it. They haven't come over here and started bothering us. Who cares besides you two? Jeez," I sigh. They never let go of anything. We're in a public bar for christ sake.
Andrea is looking at them like she wants to rip their heads off. I turn around, anxious to see what they are doing that has gotten her so mad.
I look and see all six of them sipping mixed drinks. They laugh and giggle a little bit. Not one of them talk to anybody else except those in their little group. I had to admit it, they were a little conceited. You can see it in their behavior.
"God, they are annoying." Monica complains.
"I have to say it though. That one on the right is pretty hot," I admit. She was sitting on the barstool with her legs crossed. I could see the perfectly dark tan where the capris ended. Her legs were muscular and smooth, just like her arms. I watched as she flipped her soft hair and revealed dark green eyes. Damn.
"You say that about every girl you bang, or at least want to bang," Monica implies. "Every girl I bang? Gee, thanks." I say while laughing. Well, that was real nice.
"Don't be jealous because you never get laid," Andrea snickers before bursting out laughing. I watch Monica smack her in the leg. "You just think that because I won't screw you," she corrects.
I just witness all this, chuckling. I love these guys. I've been best friends with each one of them for years. They have made me really come to a conclusion: can't go anywhere without `em.
"Well, Rachel does enough screwing for all of us anyways," Monica says. "Just last week I seen her walk out of here with that Tiffany girl." Andrea's eyes become large at hearing this.
"What? I thought that girl was straight." Andrea looks over to me, anticipating my response.
"Well," I say. "She is definitely not." Andrea begins laughing her ass off. "You're too much for me. I think if this girl tried, she could get a damn statue to lick her snatch." Monica chuckles at hearing this while I just sit there with a grin. What am I supposed to say? I'm not going to deny the fact that I get around. Besides, it's nobodies business but mine.
Monica leans in the table and says, "Yeah, but I bet she can't get one of those preppies in the sack."
I chuckle at this, and respond in my usually manner. With a grin I reply, "Well, of course. That is against everything in my rule book."
"Oh, I forgot. The precious rule book you so prudently live by." Monica rolls her eyes with an angry, disgruntled look. "I don't understand your precautions and standards."
"What? The fact that I won't interact with heterosexuals? Or is it fact that I refuse to set myself up for denial? It makes sense Monica. Just because you don't agree with it doesn't mean that I am going to change." Andrea is just looking at us, not really knowing exactly what to say.
I decide to go on with my ranting and raving. "See, there is this problem with straight women. They never seem to like me. I wonder if its because they prefer sausage over salad..."
Monica begins to laugh. "You're such a dumb shit. I'm not talking about heteros, ass. I am talking about bisexuals and every other woman you push away because she doesn't meet your standards."
"I'm sorry that I don't want to deal with I've never done this before,' or I'm not ready. I don't think I like girls.' Or you're flirting with them one week, and the next week they are screwing Bud, the quarterback. It's such bullshit. You're still setting yourself up for denial. Bisexuals are all such damn poon teases."
Andrea decides she wants to join the conversation again. "You can still get that from anyone. Lesbians change their minds too. Don't you see how narrow minded you're being?." Bullshit. I knew what I was talking about.
"Narrow minded? Because I have three rules? Come on, you have got to be kidding me." This is ridiculous. I go out to the bar and get told how to live my life.
"Alright, stop arguing. She is obviously never going to give in. So, I have an alternative." Monica is looking me in the eyes. I wonder what this is all about.
Monica nods her head to the girls over at the bar. "The one on the right," she says.
"What about her?" I ask while looking over.
"If you can get her to sleep with you in three months, I will pay you two thousand dollars." Oh god. They have been trying this for months. Getting me to go out with girls who don't have lesbian written all over them. I never sleep with a girl unless I am certain she is anti-penis.
I immediately shake my head no. "Absolutely not. Not only is she straight, but she has a ring on her finger. Plus, look at the way she is sitting and looking around. The girl is horrified and homophobic. She might as well have I LOVE PENIS written on her fucking forehead."
"Five thousand," Monica says. I gasp. That is a lot of money.
"You know what? I don't understand you. They walk in here and you guys start going on with `don't they know they're in a dyke bar?' Now, once again, you sit here and preach about how I am narrow minded. Do you have any idea how badly you contradict yourselves?"
"Quit changing the subject," Monica mumbles.
"There is a huge difference," Andrea says. "They come in here, knowing it's a lesbian joint. Then they ridicule us, when they are the ones in the wrong place to begin with." I listen to her go ballistic on me for a good five minutes. I sigh after every minute she still isn't done yet.
"You, on the other hand, refuse to talk to ANY woman who doesn't smell like a lesbian. That is why I don't understand how you get laid so often."
I smile wryly, knowing exactly why.
"Come on Rachel. It's five thousand dollars," Monica protests. It's sickening to know that she can afford to just give me five thousand dollars. That is what happens when you own three adult book stores.
"I don't want your money Monica."
"Please, I have more than enough. We live together and split all the costs. I hardly have anything to pay for."
I sigh. My parlor needs a lot of work done to it, and the money would be more than handy.
Then I realize, it's against everything I fear. Hurt, agony, loneliness. Too many times in the past I fell for women who did not feel the same way. If I was to go along with this bet, it meant getting close. Sleeping with this individual required heavy conversation and getting to know one another. That is a danger zone with me. It left me completely vulnerable with a beautiful woman.
"I don't think so," I say. I watch as the girl turns her face to the side. Her low cut shirt is allowing me to have a slight view of cleavage. When I realize I am staring, I quickly revert my eyes.
"What do you have to lose?" Asks Monica.
"Everything."
2
"Okay, one more time. Why are we here?" Julie asks while sitting on the bar stool. She sips her orange juice on the rocks, hoping that they will leave soon. She has a thing about gay people. They tend to bother her a great deal. Being in the room was just making her queasy and nauseous .
"Because Kathy is a camel and has to piss every other second," Jill answers. The six of them are all sitting in the middle of the bar, the only heterosexuals probably in the whole place.
Hearing the conversation, Neve looks over and says, "Lets just stay awhile. I mean, we were going to the bar anyways."
Not happy with the situation, Julie asks, "do you realize that this is a GAY bar? None of us are gay Neve. We are definitely outcasts."
While laughing, Jill looks over to Julie. "I don't think anybody cares to be honest with you. The worst I would worry about is getting a phone number." Neve chuckles and waves her hand to the bartender.
While Julie sits unhappily at the bar, a female approaches the counter. She has on tight boot cut jeans and a shirt that shows all of her eccentric curves. She is definitely giving off a sexy vibe.
For the slightest second, the girls arm touches Julies. She shudders, uncomfortable but excited. She never really touched women.
"Sorry," she says to her. Julie was staring in her vivid blue eyes. They were a very deep color, but entirely noticeable. She knew that eyes like that were just uncommon. They contained so much depth and beauty.
Julie just nods her head at the apology. Talking to her would be too evident, especially with her being an outcast in such a provocative joint.
Julie looks around and sees Kathy walking up to them. While approaching she bursts, "There are two women screwing in the bathroom."
3
"Are you gonna play tonight?" Asks Renee. I shake my head and say "Nah. Not tonight." I know that she is giving me an unhappy look. I turn and find a very displeased face.
"I heard you playing the acoustic the other day. It sounded awesome. Just play that one song. What was it?" I smile as I watch Renee snapping her fingers, trying to recollect.
"When? Thursday in the back?" I ask. She must had been spying on me.
"Yeah," she says. I give her a sarcastic grin.
"Outside by Staind," I say. "Yeah," she replies, remembering. "That sounded awesome. You should totally play that tonight."
I had been playing almost every night on stage. Renee being the owner, allows me to do just about whatever I want. She believes that I have real potential, and can turn my music into something great.
One day she had found me outside of the bar, singing to a crowd of people. She had stood there and watched for about ten minutes. The next day she invited me on stage to sing. It was as simple as that.
After some time, Renee grew fond of me. She gave me the opportunity to play some of my own music and not just covers. I at one point felt romantically about her, but now just contain a great deal of respect. She has helped me out very much whenever I needed it.
In a way, I want to play tonight, but I feel unprepared. My hands are shaking, my mind is dysfunctional. Although, now that I was thinking about it, music always set me at ease. Maybe I should.
Out of nowhere I see my guitar before me. Renee hands me a headset microphone. "No ifs, ands, or buts. Go sing it, before I kick you out of here."
I laugh and hug her. She is too good.
"Are you gonna sing with me?" I ask. Renee has an awesome voice that I love, but never shows it off.
"Probably not," she says. I smile and reply, "Well, maybe you should."
4
My hands always shake before I first walk out on the stage. I think about how many people are watching and staring at me. They will judge me on my every chord, every note. They will be mentally rating me on my voice, my appearance and my music. I feel powerful, yet weak. I have so much to gain, but so much to lose.
I know the song I am about to sing is not my best. I had only played it a few times for my own personal pleasure. My greatest hope is that I won't get booed off stage.
"Renee, I haven't really rehearsed this on stage or anything." I say nervously. She turns around and replies, "Just sing it like you did in the back. Trust me," she whispers.
I watch her walk on the stage with the microphone. "I just want to know one thing real fast," she says to the crowd. "Are you all having fun tonight at Renee's Joint?" I hear half the bar start to yell. The lights are dim, and there is only a blue light in the middle of the stage.
"Okay, one more question. Are you all ready for Rachel Osgood?" I hear the crowd get louder while cheering for me. I smile, knowing which two people are the loudest.
I walk out on stage with a stool and sit down in the blue light. I adjust the headset so it is snug and the microphone is aimed at my mouth. Okay, we're in business.
I persistently remind myself not to look at the crowd. It's one of the hugest bars in Cincinnati, with enough dykes to start a rampage. If I look at them, I will surely walk behind the curtains.
I start the intro. Haven't screwed up yet. So far, so good.
"And you, Bring me to my knees."
My voice hasn't cracked, I'm not looking at people. It sounds good right now.
"And I leave my burdens out the door."
It's going smoothly. My voice is gentle and seductive, yet captivating. I know it sounds good.
I think I can open my eyes now.
"All this time That I felt like this wont end Was for you And I taste What I could never have It's from you"
The passion in my voice is rising. I am too involved to worry about anything. There is only the music and I.
"But im on the outside, And I'm looking in I can see through you See your true colors `Cause inside you're ugly Ugly like me."
I look over and see Renee approaching from backstage. The crowd is screaming. I smile at her. She has her own guitar and begins singing backup.
"I can see through you, See to the real you."
Here it comes. The most passionate part of the whole song.
"All the times That I cried All this wasting It's all inside And I feel All this pain Stuffed it down It's back again And I lie here in bed All alone, I can't mend But I feel Tomorrow will be okay."
The crowd is getting louder. We are perfectly in harmony.
"I can see through you See to the real you."
The applause rise, the hands fly up. I'm exhilarated. We sounded flawless.
5
"You guys were fucking awesome," Andrea slurs. She presses the automatic unlock switch on her key chain as we approach the Mustang. "You're not driving," I say. She is trashed.
"Bullshit, this is my car." She falls in the drivers seat. I walk to the door and grab her keys. "Your car in a police auction for reckless driving if you don't move the fuck out of the way."
She looks at me with wide eyes and moves over. "That's what I thought," I say.
I put the keys in the ignition and look up. Monica is standing by the door, holding a wad of money. "Here," she says and hands it to me.
"What the hell is this Monica?" My face is twisted and I am confused.
"Two thousand dollars," she says. Now I am getting aggravated. "No shit, Sherlock. Why are you giving it to me?"
"It's your down payment. If you win, I give you three thousand more. If you lose, you keep it. It's incredibly fair. I only ask that you make some kind of an effort to woo this woman."
Fucking relentless people. They make no sense whatsoever. You tell them no, they just come back for more.
I never understood Monica too much either. She was one of the greatest people in the whole world, but sometimes she did things completely strange. Like this bet, for instance. Why in the hell does she care? I know we have been best friends since grade school, but this was absurd.
"I really don't want your money."
She is looking at me with her big brown eyes. I am thinking about how she is so pretty. I know my mind is off topic, but I can't help it. She is gorgeous...why doesn't she date?
I shake my head. Not a good time.
"You know what? Whatever, fine," I say. Even if I think it is ridiculous, I'm not stupid enough to pass up two grand. Monica winks at me and kisses my cheek before walking away.
"See you at home," she says. I watch her walk over to her brand new Camaro. I am jealous.
"Monica, can I ask you something?" She turns around and smiles. "Yeah."
"Why is this so important to you?"
"I don't know... My whole life I have seen women all over you. You have never devoted yourself to one female. I have never seen you in love, but I've seen tons of girls proclaim their love to you. So, I guess I would like to see you for once be infatuated with one woman. Chasing her around the way some of the girls do you."
I nod my head at this.
What a waste of money.
6
"Hey, Jerry, grab me another marker." Jerry nods and begins running to the back. I continue to doodle on a pad of paper, procrastinating on doing paperwork. It is incredibly boring.
Jerry comes back and hands me a black marker He is a younger guy, good at what he does. He helps me run my uncles shop. I do all the tattooing and he specializes in body piercing.
I can feel Jerry's eyes down on me. His gaze is upon the paper I have been doodling on.
"You should start making your own designs Rachel. You could make some pretty sweet ones." I begin to laugh at this flattery.
"People bring me a design, I tattoo it. I don't make them." I reply. I pull up a chair by my desk and begin going over today's sales. It was not such a bad day.
"Go on home. I just got a little bit of paperwork to do, then I'm out of here." Jerry shrugs his shoulders and grabs his coat. "See you tomorrow Rachel," he says. I wave and smile.
I plop my head down on the desk, not wanting to do this crap. After eleven hours of working, the last thing you want is to stare at numbers, and then even more.
Suddenly, I hear the front door open. We have been closed for twenty minutes. The door is usually locked, so I assume Jerry must have forgot to lock it back up when he left.
Okay, I'll just walk out there and tell them, we're closed. It's almost nine thirty. Anybody with a brain knows a tattoo parlor closes at nine o'clock at the latest.
I walk out front and avert my gaze upward. I am making direct eye contact with those green seductive eyes.
It's the girl with the hot legs. The one that Monica so persistently wants me to "seduce." Of all the damn places to walk into, my tattoo parlor had to be it. What a fucking coincidence.
"Um, we are actually closed right now," I say. She is looking up at me like she already knows that. "Actually, I just needed to ask Tony something about my tattoo." She says.
"Actually, Tony retired a while back. Im am his niece, and the owner now." I smile warmly, letting her know I'm in charge of the place. If she has a question, she needs to ask me.
"Well, I guess then you'll have to help me. I got a tattoo in like ninety- eight, and it is really starting to fade. I wanted to make an appointment to get it filled in, or darkened. Whatever you call it." I nod my head with a smile, slightly chuckling.
I am staring at the cleavage in her shirt again. Oh god.
What am I thinking? Monica has me all riled up now. All I keep saying to myself is, "I have the perfect opportunity here to make an impression. Go for it."
What am I saying? This woman is not gay, and this crap is a waste of my time. I will not succumb to this idiotic, ridiculous bet.
"Well, what day is good for you? I could probably do Thursday, or, I could do it tomorrow after four. If neither of those are good for you, we could schedule an appointment in a few weeks."
"I could come by tomorrow around seven. Is that okay, or is it too late?"
"No, that's fine. Just make sure you're wearing something that is going to allow me to easily access the area. Plus, be sure that you have time to sit here a while. Can I see the tattoo? I can have the colors ready and give you a time range if I have an idea."
She has a embarrassed look on her face. Oh god. Please tell me this tattoo is in an appropriate area.
"Well, I could I guess, if you want to see it. It's on my chest."
Her face is flushed.
So is mine.
"Oh," I say while chuckling. "We will just take care of it tomorrow."
I am going to get paid to touch her...
7
"No, I'm not shitting you Monica. She wants me to touch up her tattoo. It's fading." I move around a little bit, allowing the cell phone to get a better reception. Damn sprint to hell.
I hear laughter on the other line.
"You just may be the luckiest bitch I know." I can't help but to laugh violently.
"What are we having for dinner?" I ask. Monica is still cracking up.
"Nice way to change the subject EVERY time you don't feel absolutely secure."
8
"Do you remember that chick from the gay bar?" Julie picks up a can of tomato paste and chucks it in the cart. She doesn't care what she buys, just randomly throws it in.
"Oh, yeah, the chick from the gay bar. I definitely know her," Neve says sarcastically.
Julie throws a box of noodles at her.
"No, the one that was on stage, who sang?"
Neve smiles and says, "Okay, now we're in business. It's amazing how a little detail like that can help me distinguish between three thousand women."
"Ha ha, very funny."
"So, what makes the chick with the guitar so special?" Asks Neve.
"Well, it was really weird because I went to ask Tony about touching up my tattoo, and she was there. Apparently Tony is her uncle and she runs the shop now."
Neve is laughing. It figures.
"So, the dyke is gonna fix your tattoo? And it's on your chest?"
An old lady next to them is looking over, frowning at the statement. She hurriedly walks away.
"Yeah. Why don't you say it a little louder next time." Neve continues laughing and says,"That is so fucking funny. You're a complete homo-phobe too."
Julie continues to randomly grab things off the shelf.
"So when are you suppose to get it fixed?" Neve asks. "Today, after seven. I wanted to make sure I seen Todd before I went."
They are standing at the check out line, getting ready to pay. Neve is looking at Julies purchases. She picks up a green glass jar out of the cart.
"Grape leaves? You don't even know how to make these. You're not even Arabic."
Julie shrugs. "I can learn."
Neve holds up a package of dishwasher cleanser.
"When did you get a dishwasher?"
9
Her back is arching, her nails are digging into my shoulder blades. I'm inhaling her fragrance, infatuated with her sex. My tongue is probing at her clitoris as my fingers continuously penetrate her.
"Ohhh," she moans with her eyes closed. Her heels are digging into the mattress as her hands continue to run through my hair. The moans are becoming louder and I know she is close to climax.
I move both my hands up to her breasts and gently squeeze. Her nipples are completely erect. I rub the areolas softly, making her grunt with pleasure. She is pleading me to allow her climax.
"Please Rachel. Please, please, please..." I am teasing her wet cunt, not giving her complete satisfaction yet. I wait until the orgasm is close, then ease off her clitoris. I give light flickers against it with my tongue, tantalizing her while she is so incredibly close to that brink of no return.
The passion between her legs is building again. My fingers are inside, furiously going back and forth. In and out they go as she cries with raw pleasure. Her large breasts are bouncing around as her pussy endures the most pure torture desire can give. I can only keep my wicked smile as I push back and forth, harder and harder with three fingers.
"Right there...Ohh, Fuck me!" I decide I am going to let her go, seeing as how she is so riled up. Her hips are thrusting at my face harshly, erotically. I feel her knees buckle, her sex contracting. Her face is a hot red. I can tell she has let all her emotions go into what she is feeling.
"Oh, I can't take it anymore," she cries. Her hips give a strong lunge at my face as I bury my fingers deep inside her. Four of them are fucking her pussy as my mouth buzzes on her clitoris, not stopping to save my life. She is still thrusting at my face even though the orgasm is almost over. I wait until the spasms subside before I completely remove my mouth.
She leans forward as kisses me deeply, craving my tongue against hers. I rub her breasts again, twisting the nipples as she so erotically presses her lips against mine.
"That was fucking great," she says. She leans back against my bed, smiling like a little schoolgirl. Her heart is finally beating normal.
I go to my drawer and grab a pair of pants, underwear, shirt and a towel. My shower awaits me.
"Where are you going?" she asks. Duh. I have a towel and I am walking to the bathroom. Where the fuck do you think?
"I'm gonna take a shower, okay? There are bagels and stuff, and the remote is in that drawer right there if you wanna watch t.v."
"Maybe I will join you," she says with a grin. I see a very seductive look on her face.
"No, I need to get to bed..." I begin to walk in the bathroom, and then it happens. I see her face become angered and annoyed.
"Why do you always do this every time we make love?" I know she did not just say that. My god. Why does this happen every time?
"Well Kelly, maybe because we did not just make love' as you call it. It's sex, and it's good sex. Nothing more, nothing less." Jesus Christ. I did not want the whole I thought we had something' speech. I have heard it far too many times. Frankly, it just pisses me off.
"I thought that we were going to have a relationship. You don't call, and the only time I see you is if I come over here. Then we have this hot, passionate sex. So I don't understand why every time after that you boot me the hell out of here. What the hell is going on?"
I laugh at this. She wants a relationship. "I told you before we had sex the first time that I did NOT want a relationship. You seem to think that since we had sex more than once that I suddenly want to be tied down with a girlfriend. Newsflash Kelly, I don't."
"You're such a fucking asshole." I watch her start picking up her clothes. She has tears in her eyes. Boo fucking hoo.
She puts her shoes on and walks to the door. "And to think, I actually thought I was falling in love with you."
I hear the door slam and footsteps outside. I look out the window as she gets in her car. I suddenly feel this wave of guilt. I could have been a little nicer...
Nah.
10
"Kelly was out of here last night like a bum on a bologna sandwich. I thought she was going to run a marathon. What's up with that?" Monica is sitting at the table, before her a cup of coffee and her daily Nutri- Grain bar.
"I think another month with that girl, and she would have wanted a ring. God, you think she would get it. The nicest thing I ever said to her was, "you make me horny."
Monica gags on her coffee from laughter. "Wow. No wonder the ladies love you. You're a hopeless romantic."
I look over and see Monica's nipple poking out of her bathrobe.
"Your robe is undone. If I want to see tits, I have a bathroom mirror." Out of the corner of my eye, I see her tie the robe.
"Make sure your smart ass remarks are detailed. If you want to see sagging tits you can go in the bathroom." I smile at this comment, loving our relationship. We can say anything we wanted to one another, and it won't make the slightest difference. It is always in good fun.
"What are you and Andrea gonna go today?" I ask. I sit at the kitchen table with her, reading the newspaper. I need a few things done to the parlor. I figure looking for a contractor would be a good start.
"She is working from seven to three, so I don't know. I need to check on a few things at the stores and fire some people. Why? What's up with you today?"
"Ah, just the same old shit. Going to the shop, doing some tattoos. I'm trying to find a contractor to fix up some things."
"Is that chick coming in today?" Monica asks with a wide smile.
Chuckling, I say "Her appointment is at seven."
"I knew there was a reason you looked so good today," she teases.
I laugh and look down at my dark blue baggy jeans and a tight tank top. My tan skin glistens in the sun and you can see my well toned body.
"Have you been going to the gym lately?" She asks. I shake my head no and reply, "haven't really had time."
I throw a bottle of A& D ointment at her. "Will you rub this on that new tattoo?" Monica puts down her Nutri- Grain bar as I lift the back of my shirt.
"You and your friggin tattoos. How many is that? Eight?"
I smile and reply, "Seven."
"Oh. Excuse me..." Monica jokes. I twitch as the cold ointment feels good against my skin.
"You don't like it? They aren't gaudy. I was hoping to get one more on my leg." Monica rolls her eyes as she rubs the A & D in.
"Whatever makes your skirt fly up," she jokes.
"Gee Monica, thanks."
11
"Why don't you just tell her already?" Andrea asks. Monica shrugs her shoulders, not making eye contact with her.
"I don't want to screw things up Andrea. If I tell her how I feel, it could ruin everything. She doesn't love me anyways. She goes for those preppy bitches. That is why she makes those stupid rules. So she doesn't fall in love with them."
"How do you know she won't fall in love with you?" Andrea persists.
"Newsflash Andrea. She is our best friend. I cant just come out and tell her I am in love with her. I have tried before, but it doesn't work. I just can't. I keep breaking down."
Monica is holding her head in her hands, not really knowing what to do.
"I really don't understand you. Why in the hell did you make that bet then? Telling her to sleep with another woman isn't exactly the way to get attention drawn to yourself." Andrea is giving her a disgruntled face, awaiting an answer.
"Just because. It's hard to explain."
"I have a while. Try me," she replies.
Monica is looking Andrea in the eyes, not really wanting to tell her. How she found out about her love for Rachel is still baffling. Monica always thought she was being so careful with her confined feelings.
"I want her to understand what it is like to get pushed away. Maybe if she sees what she does to people, she will understand. I want her to let somebody in. I figured if she was vulnerable enough afterwards, maybe she would allow herself to love me."
Andrea looks at her and says, "That is exactly why she wont let anybody in. To avoid what your plotting this very instant; heartbreak. Rachel is complex, but not stupid."
Monic stares into her friends eyes for the slightest moment.
"I love her so much. I don't know what to do."
Andrea stands in front of her and grabs hold of Monica's hands. She is staring directly into her eyes.
"Tell her."
12
I'm staring at the clock, not really knowing why. Actually, that is a lie. I do know why. It is because it's almost seven. At seven o'clock, possibly the hottest woman on the planet is going to walk into this tattoo parlor, and she is going to strip.
Schwing.
The radio gently sounds in the background. I put in the "Eight Arms to Hold You" album by Veruca Salt.
I watch Jerry walk to the back. A guy is nervously sitting, awaiting the needle to go straight through his tongue. You can see his scared anticipation.
The back of my throat feels dry. In need of water, I head for the back as well. I can almost taste the liquid traveling down my body.
As soon as I get back there, Jerry is giving me the look of death. I don't understand people. One minute they are happy, the next pissed off. Is everyone in America on permanent PMS or what?
"What the hell is your problem?" Jerry throws his hands in the air claiming defeat. "I need a day off, that is what my problem is. I'm sick of being here seven days a week with bitchy customers."
I nod my head. "Fine. I will hire somebody else."
Jerry is still ranting and raving. Apparently a customer was being difficult.
"Jerry, why are you still bitching? I will hire somebody else. Shut the fuck up." He looks at me momentarily and nods. I watch as he walks away, his gaze randomly at me.
"Cheese and fucking rice," I whisper to myself.
She is standing before me, ready for me to do this. I sense hesitation in her. I sense hesitation in me.
You have no idea.
There goes the shirt on the ground. Now she is unclasping the bra. My knees are weak. I'm gasping for air.
I finally breathe and gather the courage to look up. The tattoo on her breast is absolutely remarkable. I'm surprised I've never noticed it before, considering how much I have been staring at her chest.
It begins right by her cleavage and travels way down past her nipple. It's a dragon that is breathing fire. In the fire is a Chinese symbol that stands for devotion.
There go the knees.
I'm trying my hardest not to stare.
"It's very unique. It may take a while to um...touch up." I am mumbling. I'm saying things out of my ass. It is all because she takes my breath away.
I kick society in the ass. All because we are bias and narrow minded, we exclude each other from the same sex. It's damn disappointing when before me lays this gorgeous creature, and I find myself afraid to touch her. All due to the chance that her reaction may be `ew gross.' Chances are, if half the fucking planet wouldn't be so prejudice, the situation would be different. If it were okay for a woman to love another woman, my life would be easier. If everyone could come to terms with ourselves and accept gays as human, maybe our world would be just a tad nicer. I despise societies claims against homo-sexuality, and how wrong it is. Fuck that. Don't contradict love. Love is love, whether its two vaginas, one penis and one vagina, two penises or two fucking ass holes.
These things just piss me off.
My hands are shaking. I can't look at her because I feel guilty. Why do things have to be so difficult? I'm going to have to look sooner or later. I have to touch her for christ sakes. I have to ink the fucking tattoo.
Then she talks with that sweet voice. It cuts like a knife, but is as smooth as butter.
"Are we gonna do this or what?"
I stare at her face for a minute, and then realize I am being a blubbering idiot. "Um.. yeah, sorry." My hands move for forward for tools, but I just knock them over like a clumsy idiot.
"I'm going to be completely honest," I say. She is sitting in the chair, looking in my eyes. For a minute, it almost looks like she is attracted to me.
"I thought we kind of had a moment in the bar, but you don't appear to be gay or anything," I manage to blurt. Her eyes avert down, and she is chuckling slightly.
"You're right, I'm not." She is being rather snotty, and its pissing me off. I can feel the anger rising.
"I'm trying to be polite here. I am just saying, I seen you at the bar and it was weird. I don't want there to be tension right now." She has a very prude and disgusted look on her face. My blood is boiling.
"You know what, maybe I better not do this tattoo. I obviously make you feel uncomfortable or angry." I stand up and hand her pile of clothes over.
"I made an appointment already. Just do the damn thing." She is very demanding. Her face is right in front of mine. Her lips look so soft. Her eyes are so angry.
Why is she so angry at the world?
Something just comes over me. Maybe it's because her face is so close to mine, or that she smells like Clinique Happy. I don't know exactly what, but it is definitely strange, because my next action is going to take place.
Without hesitation, I kiss her. Her lips are just as soft as I expected. They are full and rich. Her taste is clean and almost sweet. I love the aroma coming off of her.
Even more strangely, she isn't fighting me...