Her
lips are like a drug.
You're
drawn to them, a moth to a flame, before you even know if she could be into
it. You find yourself visiting their room, over and over, under the guise of
seeing her roommate.
As
if you care about her roommate.
Her
hair is honey-colored and long, flowing down her back, and she's so excited
about this, a real girly slumber party, just like in elementary school, and
she's so excited that you get excited too. You can play Twister and hold a
seance and eat raw cookie dough and watch scary movies and give each other
makeovers.
And
you think about braiding her hair and suddenly your palms are all sweaty, the
way they haven't gotten since middle school.
She
pulls out a bottle of booze and her smile is wicked and beautiful and you want
to touch it feel it taste it.
She's
gorgeous.
Her
roommate is hesitant, disapproving, dark and hiding and entirely too cautious.
You remember when you used to have a crush on her, when you fell asleep
dreaming of the soft curve of her breasts.
Today
that seems so far away.
Laughing,
both of you tease her, pointing out her love of girly drinks, asking if she's
ever had any wine that wasn't at a friend's bar mitzvah, offering to mix some
of the vodka into her soda. And Joey rolls her eyes and grabs the bottle and
sucks the drink down.
She
makes a face but tries to hide it. You look at Audrey and see your own
expression reflected back as both of you fight not to laugh and smile
encouragingly.
Audrey
reaches into one of her drawers and throws a tiny drink umbrella at her
roommate. It hits Joey on the shoulder and she yelps with a start. You try not
to laugh and fail miserably.
Neither
you nor Audrey can stop giggling. You both apologize periodically, a quick
"Sorry, Jo," but mostly it's your own secret joke that isn't quite
secret but feels it anyway, and it's too much fun to give up.
In
the middle of Twister, she starts giggling madly, and Joey says "Right
hand blue" and Audrey falls.
But
the way she falls is on you, you twisted into a quasi-backbend and her facing
down, and the way she falls one knee is between your legs and the other is
close to your thigh, so she's straddling your leg, practically riding it, and
her hands have caught yours, and her face is inches from your own, and for a
minute, implausibly, you think of kissing her.
But
then you panic and roll out from under her before anything can happen.
You
think you see disappointment flicker across her face, but you're fairly
certain it's a figment of your imagination.
You
grab the bottle from Joey and knock it back. It burns, but it hurts so good.
You smile tensely.
"Liquid
courage, bunny?" Audrey teases.
"You
know it," you murmur. God, you want to be drunk. This would be so much
easier if you were drunk.
Audrey
produces a package, Pillsbury's Instant Cookie Stuff, which is nothing but a
log of raw dough. You lick your lips and wonder if she'll take it as a sexual
gesture.
She
takes some dough and eats it, and you watch the muscles of her throat
contract.
She's
wearing flannel pants and a black tank top, and except for two tiny straps, her
shoulders are completely exposed, her arms, her neck, her collarbone, the hint
of cleavage. Between the elastic of her pants and the dark cotton of her
shirt, a thin band of skin that you want to feel, want to hold, want to touch,
want to taste.
Your
mind feels repetitive and you're trying to stop the thoughts from flying quite
so quickly.
You're
wearing lightweight pyjamas, thin material that barely hides anything, and you
squirm a little and hope she doesn't notice.
Your
pyjamas have monkeys on them. You suddenly feel very young.
"That's
disgusting," Joey says, and it takes you a minute to realize that she
means the raw cookie dough you're both eating.
"It's
good," Audrey argues.
"Sure.
If you like salmonella."
You
shrug. "More for us, then." You both reach for a chunk of dough.
Your
fingers touch.
It's
electricity.
She
pulls back first. Her fingers find her lips, and she swallows more dough.
Joey
makes another noise of disgust.
You
chew and you swallow and you realize that for once no one really cares what
Joey Potter thinks.
Somewhere,
Pacey is laughing
And
Drue is laughing
And
Dawson is laughing
And
Jack is definitely laughing
And
you don't care, because right now you're French braiding her hair and it feels
heavy in your hands, heavy but so good.
You
can smell her shampoo. It's vaguely citrusy. You're surprised. You had
expected vanilla.
You
breathe her in.
She
moans.
"Sorry,"
you hear yourself whisper. "Am I hurting you?"
"No.
It feels good."
You
smile shyly to yourself as you cris-cross the thick ropes of hair. When you
finish, you slip a black rubber band off your wrist and tie the bottom of the
braid with a flourish.
"Thanks,
sweetie," she says. She turns her head- her braid flies off her back- and
she kisses your cheek gently.
You're
fairly certain you're trembling.
Which
is probably how you knock over the bottle of vodka, spilling the remaining
booze all over your sleeping bag, which is rolled out in the middle of the
floor.
The
sleeping bag was Audrey's idea. More accurately, Audrey had suggested a pink
Barbie My First Sleeping Bag, and this was your compromise, because your old
Barbie sleeping bag fits up to your waist, at this point, and besides, it's
back in New York anyway. So this is a dark purple bag, with a warm fuzzy lilac
inside, and it's a wonderful sleeping bag and now it's soaked with alcohol.
"Oh,
god," you whisper. "I'm so sorry..."
"Your
sleeping bag!" Joey exclaims.
"Our
booze!" Audrey exclaims in the same voice, but unlike Joey, you're
pretty sure she's kidding. She confirms this when she drops a piece of cookie
dough on the darker side, the side that's somewhat water-resistant, and says
"Ooh, this is an even better way to get drunk!"
You
giggle, and repeat her actions, and find that yeah, the alcohol tastes even
better.
You
promise yourself you'll do a zillion sit-ups tomorrow. You're not giving this
up for anything.
"Um.
But we have a problem," Joey says.
"Do
not," Audrey says cheerfully. "I know at least four people on this
floor who owe me a favor and have alcohol!"
"That's
not the problem."
"Yeah.
I know." Audrey smiles sweetly at her roommate.
"That
was where Jen was going to sleep," Joey says.
The
expression on Audrey's face flickers for a second, and it's just enough that
you start babbling. "Well, that's no problem. I can always just go home
or whatever."
"No!"
Audrey says. "This is my big sleepover, and we are having it and we are
liking it and you are not leaving."
"Whoa,
there, general," you tease. And then, "Okay. So you'll give me some
blankets, and I'll sleep there, and we'll be fine."
"That's
silly," Joey says. "You can sleep in one of our beds. There's plenty
of room for two. And if I could share a bed with Dawson and not have any
problems, I'm pretty sure either of us could share a bed with you.
Right?"
You're
fairly certain you're blushing, although you're not sure. Your face definitely
feels hot, though. Like all the blood has run to your face, all at once.
"I... sure. I mean, if you guys want..."
"You
can sleep with me, Jen!" Audrey says. And you turn and her face is nearly
the same color as yours feels like it must be. And then she says "I
mean... in my bed. You can sleep in my bed. If you don't want to sleep in
Joey's, which you probably do."
And
maybe you're feeling oddly honest or maybe (more likely, you know) you're just
starting to really feel the effects of the drink but you say "Yeah. I'd
like that." And then you stutter, just a bit, and then say "To
sleep. With you. In your bed. If that's okay."
You're
feeling all warm, the really good stage of drunk, and you think that you're
probably warm elsewhere too, and if you were sober you'd probably be panicking
about the fact that you're wearing next to nothing and you're about to crawl
into bed with her, with her, and she's wearing barely nothing and you
can see your arm snaking around to hold her in the middle of the night.
But
instead you smile at her and say yes, it'd be nice.
Joey
gives Audrey a strange look and says "Are you guys sure?"
You
can imagine them laughing about you after you leave. But it's now or never.
"I'm sure," you say. "How about you, Audrey? Are you
sure?"
"As
shooting!" she says, and she laughs. Her laugh is loud and fake and it
would be annoying on anyone else but on her it's oddly endearing.
There's
a long pause, where no one says anything. You swallow hard and try to pretend
things aren't awkward. At last Audrey breaks the silence. "So,
movie?"
"Nah,"
Joey says. "It's getting late."
"Hey,
Saint Potter, it's only two thirty," Audrey points out.
"Late
enough," Joey says lightly. "You guys ready to head in?
"We
paid the money to rent it," Audrey says. "I'm watching the movie if
Jen is." She glances at you. "You in, Bunny?"
"Definitely,"
you say, and can't resist adding "Bunny" with a slight grin.
Joey
glowers a little and says "Well, I'm still going to sleep."
"Okay,"
Audrey says cheerfully. "Maybe this way you'll be up early in the morning
to go rescue some kittens from a burning building!"
"Well,
go to the lounge then," Joey complains. "But stop talking so
loudly."
You
and Audrey roll your eyes but you don't say a word.
You've
been here a lot but mostly it's just to their room and back, so you don't know
exactly where the lounge is. She takes you out into the hall and leads you to
the lounge, which is small and comfy and a couch and a television and not much
else.
Audrey
reaches into her bag and presents you with three tapes, what she judges to be
the most-important-for-sleepover movies: the Breakfast Club, Dirty Dancing,
and Halloween. You smile and point to the third choice, because you've seen it
enough times that you don't need to focus on the movie; you can focus on her.
She grins brightly at you and pops it into the VCR.
You
both settle back into the couch and begin to watch.
You've
seen it enough that you know what's coming, but that doesn't mean you're not
susceptible. You're not a big baby, exactly, not like Joey, but you jump
anyway. The movie is playing you perfectly.
And
maybe it's because you're bold and maybe it's because you're drunk but at one
of the big scares you find that your hand is intertwined with Audrey's and
she's squeezing back.
Your
stomach is twisting and you're fairly certain it's because it's her hand
holding yours and not because you've already had too much to drink. But
whatever it is it feels so good and even after the scary scene is over you
don't let go.
You're
not sure how both of you came to be sitting so close but you are and you can
feel her body heat through your monkey shirt.
"Are
you scared, Bunny?" she asks lightly.
"Yes."
You're not scared of the movie. You're scared of her. You're scared of what
you might do. But you don't say that.
"Want
to switch movies?"
"No."
"Want
me to make it better?" She puts her arms around you and you can feel
every hair on your body standing straight up. You just shaved earlier tonight,
and in the places where there's no hair, you can feel the follicles reacting.
"Mmm.
Yeah," you whisper, and you don't know if she realizes what she's doing
to you but you feel like she must. Because how can she not?
Holy
god.
Her
hand is crawling up and down your arm and tracing tiny patterns and you don't
know what she feels there that keeps her so interested but you know how you
feel and all that you want is for her not to stop.
You
make a tiny high pitched moan without really meaning to.
And
that's when you forget about what's on the screen altogether, because Audrey's
talking to you.
"I
want you, Jen. I've wanted you since I met you, and Joey thinks it's a shitty
idea, but I don't really care what Joey says. All I care about right now is
your answer. And you have two choices. Yes... or no. And if you say no I'll
back off and then we can go watch Breakfast Club until five in the morning and
laugh at the eighties fashion or whatever. But if you say yes..."
She
leaves it hanging. Your entire body is frozen.
"What's
it going to be, Lindley? Yes or no?"
And
you kiss her.
The
kiss doesn't change the earth's rotation. It doesn't make the world a better
place. Doves don't begin flying over your head or anything.
But
you're kissing Audrey and she's kissing you and the low buzz that's been going
on in your head since you found out you'd be sleeping over has erupted into a
deafening roar.
Never
stop.
Never.
Audrey
is warm and perfect and her breath on your skin is all you'd ever need in life
and the fact that she's still kissing you, kissing you, and her hands are
working their way under your shirt with the monkeys, the fucking monkeys,
which don't seem immature anymore but you do feel like they shouldn't see this
until they're grown up, and god, this is heaven.
You
melt into her.
Somehow
you stop the tape, be kind, rewind it, take the videos, stumble to the room
she shares with Joey.
With
Joey.
And
Joey's fast asleep in the other bed and somehow it makes it that much more
exciting that she's lying you down on her bed and pulling your pants off (byebye
monkeys) and kissing your stomach and holygodfuck.
You
arch up to her, moaning her name, but not out loud, just mouthing it silently
like it's a prayer.
Audrey
is very skilled.
You
approve.
She's
making you make all sorts of noises, or noises that you would make if Joey
weren't a few feet away so you're being so quiet, so quiet, like a mouse, a
mouse that holy GOD Audrey.
You
whimper as your orgasm slowly fades to the pleasant after-state.
You
can feel her smile against your thigh.
You
want to reciprocate. You want more than anything to spend the rest of the
night with your mouth on her skin.
And
then her shirt's gone, her pants, and your tongue is twirling around her
nipple while your hands are at her other breast and one of her hands is
between your legs, and this is heaven and maybe Joey will wake up, right in
the middle, and have a heart attack and then that'd be a really interesting
story to tell the paramedics.
But
maybe not. Because Joey rolls over in her sleep, she's dead to the world, and
you're going to get away with this, and that somehow accentuates everything.
You're sliding down Audrey's bed and she's sliding up a bit and you capture
her clit in your mouth, carefully sucking and biting in all the right ways you
learned so well during your career as a slut in New York (and you know that at
least Audrey won't be angry to know you've had sex before) and when she comes
she's absolutely beautiful, you can't see her but you can just tell.
Her
lips are intoxicating. So are her legs, her arms, her stomach, her laugh, the
way her eyes twinkle when she's happy.
Everything
about her is intoxicating.
It's
going to take you a long time to come down from this high.
Maybe
you'll just stay floating forever.
--The
End--