My wife is stoned.
I'm not the intuitive type. I don't see the tiny nuances of body language that would hint at her insobriety. I'm not even what you would usually call 'observant'. I'm typically fairly self-absorbed and intrinsic. It has even been suggested that I'm a bit of an aloof prick sometime. But, call me Sherlock fucking Holmes, the woman is staring at an onion. She has been for longer than it took for the Seven O'clock News to finish.
"Darlin?"
"Ya?"
"You doin?"
"Hahahahaha."
A thousand tiny glass wind chimes jingle then shatter every time she giggles. I've laughed before simply because she is laughing. It's the kind of sound you would imagine fairies dream of making when they laugh but can't quite achieve, leaving them feeling kind of less than perfectly fairy like; a bit of a fraud in their wings and tutus prancing around amongst flowers thinking, "Fuck it, I'll just be a leprechaun or something."
"I'm looking at this onion."
"I noticed."
"Heh, it's layered."
"Have you been watching Shrek again?"
"No. I was going to make pizza."
Oh god I love this woman. Pizza!
"Pepperoni?"
"Nah."
"Ham and pineapple."
"Nah."
"So..."
"So I was thinking what is inside an onion?"
"What?" Now, I seriously doubt I'm going to get pizza. Our tangents diverge.
"You know, when you get all its layers off. What's inside?"
"Nothing."
"No shithead, there's got to be something."
"Look, I'm gonna order out." She's been in the kitchen for more than half an hour. We were going to have pizza and movies night but I think she's found my 'Green Dragon' pot liqueur.
"Don't you ever wonder?"
"I'm wondering Hawaiian or Mexican?"
"Shithead... you're killing my tangent. Just order what you want, oh grr... and garlic bread. Lots of garlic bread. Fuck it, forget the pizza just get garlic bread."
"Haha, you're a messy kite."
"Fuck you. You're an onion."
I call Domino's and place an order for a pepperoni with extra jalapeno and two rolls of garlic bread. They promise it will be here in half an hour and clarify my address. The movie we've chosen for movie night is 'Avatar'. Jen loves it.
"Babe?"
"Yeah."
"You get garlic bread?"
"Yeah."
"I love you."
"I love you too Darlin'."
"Fucken liar. Onion Liar."
"What?"
She sits beside me on the couch smelling like soap and shampoo. She has a towel curled up like a turban on her head and has stolen one of my t-shirts again; my new Steel Panther t-shirt.
"Hey, that's my new shirt."
"Haha, it was lonely and afraid in the drawer so I gave it a home." She pats her boobs gently. "Poor widdle shirty wirty..."
"Hff..." I probably can't ever wear it again now, its overtly sexual and rebellious tones thoroughly ruined by 'widdle shirty wirty'."
"Ok then..." My emasculated shirt and I sit in silence.
"Hey so..." she shoves me with her foot. Her long legs flash flesh at me and I can't blame my t-shirt for wanting to go and live on her gorgeous tits.
"So..."
"So... you're an onion."
"Wha..."
I don't know what she means. I'm a bit annoyed, she's off on a road trip without a map and if experience serves me, my only option, and usually the most enjoyable one, is to jump on board and ride along.
"So... Each ring the onion has, it put there. It made that shit. Out of dirt even." She sounds incredulous at her own analogy, "It made a wall or clothes or a mask or something that it wanted the world to see instead of the little tiny onion soul inside and over time changed until it looked nothing like what it really was inside. Until it was nothing like its true shit, it's true soul."
She stares absently into space for a moment lost in internal philosophy then continues, "So now it was just an ugly brown onion so I cut it open to see inside."
"So there was a happy little brown round dude and you stabbed it? Fuck...."
"No, I cut it." She shoves me with her foot again. I like her legs . "I cut you!" I make a stabbing gesture and ham it up.
"Drink! I hate you straight when I'm a pipe cleaner."
"Pipe cleaner?"
"All twisted bent like a little pipe cleaner doll. Did you ever make a pipe cleaner doll?"
I shake my head, she butterflies from thought to thought; I love her but she confounds my sobriety. I take the tall green drink she's brought me and slug a good mouth full down. She natters about the movie for a little while and I nod and trace the path of drugs through my body. My mouth tastes first the mint, chocolate and raw alcohol flavours; my stomach warms. In just a moment, I can feel the alcohol surge through me like a flash fire. A few moments later, the THC slides over me like a favourite old winter coat and I can feel my mouth twist in the corner like a playful thing waking from a week long sleep at work.
"Hellooo... Friday night."
"Ha... It's good right. Shut-up, I like this bit."
I ride the buzz to a peak. It hits smoothly, and woah... It mellows sweetly to a body buzz.
"Hey..."
"Yeah?"
"So onions?"
"What?"
"You were talking about onions."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"You were... Layers... or something. I was listening but I was hungry."
"Oh yeah." She pounces on me. "You do listen sometimes."
Her soft arms are round my neck and she hugs me intimately and close.
"So..."
"Yup..."
"Want to play a game?" she mumbles coyly into my neck.
Her lips move against the skin of my throat and I think my dick responds, "Hell yeah!" before I do.
"Kay, so... clothes are like layers too right?"
"Guess so."
"So, you take off a layer, I take off a layer... capiche paison?" She tries on a Mafioso face and puffs a pretend cigar, her playful mischief written in naughty twinkles in her eyes.
"Mmhmm?"
"You volunteer a thing that changed you, that made you grow a layer. Show me how that layer grew and help me know you more and I remove a layer."
"Sounds fairly one sided. I have to tell you my deepest darkest things to get your gear off?"
"Hmm. Fair point. I'll sweeten the pot." She thinks a little pointing out stray things in the movie.
"Fuck, look how tall they are. Have you ever fucked a chick that tall?"
"They're ten foot tall aliens. Do you know any ten-foot tall alien chicks? I'll try anything once."
"Oh yeah, hey... I've got it. Quid pro quo and a layer of clothes. So if your story tells me something I didn't already know about you, I remove a piece of clothing then I have to tell a story and if you already didn't know it then you have to get some gear off."
I quickly do an item count. That one that you learn to do in early teen games of truth or dare and strip jack. Neither of us is wearing much anyway so it should be fair and fun.
"So... you first." She shoves me with her foot again.
"Let me think a bit, I can't just vomit something profound up just like that."
"Okay, well I'll go."
She gets comfortable and fluffs cushions, like she is mentally gathering papers on a podium. I see nervousness underneath the ritual, "You know how you always ask about my baby photos? There are none."
She waits for my attention and when I hold her eyes she continues, "I was kind of an ugly duckling teen. You know, gangly with a too big head and no boobs, funny teeth. I always felt ugly. Kids at school would tease me about my ears, my braces, my eyebrows. You know what they are like."
"When I was eighteen, nineteen I started filling out, learned a bit more about grooming, plucked my caterpillars, got my braces off, was suddenly normal. Not pretty but not ugly, and I made friends easy cause all those years of getting bullied grew me a personality."
She sips her drink, "I was horrified that people would find out what I used to be like so one afternoon I gathered all the photographs I could find at home of me as a child and burned them in the incinerator."
"Fuck really? Beth and Bill would have loved that."
"They spewed. I was in so much trouble. I kept one picture. It's in an old year book. I kept it to remind myself that I was ugly once; to keep me humble."
"Pff... You can't have been that ugly. I get gangly teen, I was the same. Took ages to grow into myself."
"I'll show you, I kept it." As she walks to the bedroom I try to objectify her appearance. She is not tall, not short, five foot six to my five foot nine. She's fit but deliciously curvy, has nicely shaped everything, especially her arse which waggles under my t-shirt as she walks away. She has shoulder length hair that keeps changing colour (it's currently red) and she has a pretty heart shaped face with big brown eyes and well maybe her nose is a bit big but she fits together well into more than averagely attractive package. She has to be exaggerating her self-loathing. She could never have been truly ugly.
She returns and plonks down on the couch. Launching from a few feet away and crashing onto it like a sullen teen. She's removed the towel and brushes her hair as I stare at the yearbook she drops in my lap. I flick through, "St Mary's High 1993." Try as I may, I can't find any pictures of her.
"Here." She snatches it away and flicks to a page near the back. "Where?"
She points at a picture of two kids holding a trophy. I must still look confused because she taps one of the girls on the face and says, "That one."
She is watching my face for reactions and she finds them. "I told you so."
"Fuck, wow, those ears..." I don't want to be shallow and harsh but I don't want to be dishonest either. She was truly unpretty. The child in the year book is tall and skinny, flat chested, and mostly like every other teen except she has ears that stick out sideways like car doors. Not big ears just they point the wrong way. Her nose is overly big for her young face and her front teeth look like a rabbit that has run into post. Her eyebrows meet in the middle and are really fuzzy and thick.
"It's ok to be shocked. I wouldn't have shown you if I wasn't prepared for that."
"But how did..." I gesture at her beside me now. "All this hot..."
"Mum and Dad gave me surgery for my eighteenth birthday. I had my ears pinned, see..." She leans close and pulls an ear forward. I can see a tiny scar behind it. "...and my nose tidied up a bit. My teeth took until I was about twenty to sort out completely. Mostly it was just correcting the bite and my face growing to fit them. And well, that eyebrow... Just a matter of learning to take care of my appearance."
"Far out, you don't look anything like that now."
"But it's still me. Inside, I'm still that ugly kid sometimes. Inside, boys ignore me, girls make fun of me and I hate me. The new me, I like. Just sometimes I'm the old me for a bit."
"Well, that's definitely a layer I didn't know about." I peel off my shirt. It's warm and I'm more comfortable without it anyway.
"Well your turn now."
"Hold up 'fugly', I'm thinking."
She belly laughs and punches me, "Arsehole," as she goes to make more drinks.
We're at that part of the movie where Jake is promised surgery in exchange for information and she tells the flat screen, "Don't trust that arsehole, Jake. Haven't you seen the ending?"
"Haha, the ending hasn't happened for him yet."
"Well it's out on DVD, rent a copy fucker!" she yells at Jake.
"That's it. That's a layer I can give you."
"What, the DVD. I own it already."
"No..." She's so literal to my metaphoric. "I don't trust men. My layer. My thing. I don't trust men. That's why I don't really have any close mates."
"You are one, a man. How can you not trust them?"
"Coach... When I was at uni my coach abused me."
"Like molested you or something?"
"Something like that."
"Fuck... how. You were huge as a young bloke." She mocks flexing her arms.
"At an end of term football party. It was some sort of initiation or hazing thing. They did it to all the rookies. Coach wore a strap on dildo. We all had to bend over and he stuck it up our bums while the older players laughed and cheered. Worst part was I got a boner. I thought that meant I'd liked it; made me gay or something."
"Holy shit."
"So, now I hate football and I don't trust men." I shrug as if I don't care.
"You should have made a complaint or something."
"It was easier to run, just fuck off. I quit my scholarship and joined the army."
"You trust my Dad though right, you guys go fishing and stuff."
"That's different, Bill's like my dad."
"Oh... wow." She is quiet and gobbles popcorn, eyes glued to the television while I imagine I can actually see her mind ticking over.
"Great. So I bare my soul and you're more interested in giant blue bitches."
"Shh..." She frowns at me. "I like this bit."
She does some sort of epileptic python dance with her arms under her t-shirt and produces a bra. Still watching the screen, she hands it to me. "Happy?" I take it, looking at it strangely. This is acceptable currency for knowing my deepest shame? It's lacy and I figure I can't be too cut up about her dispassionate response, because I seem to be getting a boner. Still, I've kept this thing locked in a tiny box in the recesses of my mind for millennia as it shames me so deeply. It can't really hurt me anymore, all the sting has gone out of the memories but... Well, really, I can't think why I ever kept it from her. It seems like a useless layer now. Perhaps this game has merit.
"I think I feel a bit raw."
"Like exposed?"
"Yeah."
"Good raw? Bad raw?"
"Like it doesn't really matter raw."
"Like you forgot to put a shirt on but it doesn't really matter because you're at home anyway?"
"Yeah something like that."
She puts some popcorn in her mouth and scootches a little closer on the couch. Her right arm reaches round my shoulder while her eyes never leave the television and she pulls me a bit closer.
"I love you anyway you gimp fucktoy."
It's my turn to belly laugh embarrassment off. A euphoric wave of acceptance and gratitude, babbles out of my mouth in a series of ape-like sniggers.
"You have the shittiest laugh. Seriously, don't ever laugh again." She puts a hand over my mouth and nose, "Just be sad or angry or something ok."
"Horny count?" I mumble.
"Ooh... I like horny."
The doorbell rings.
"Pizza O'clock!" she claps.
"Hang on buddy, I'm coming." I shout to the door.
"I'll get it." She stands and grabs her purse from the coffee table.
Almost to the door she stops and turns.
"Hey..."
"Yup."
She makes real eye contact and bites her lower lip before saying, "That really was a substantial layer. Thankyou for trusting me." She pulls off her shirt (my Steel Panther shirt) and throws it to me.
I catch it and watch her open the door and pay for the pizza.
In nothing but her undies and socks.
The pizza boy is a spotty kid. Old enough to have a licence, vote and drink but too young to have a proper job or by the looks of things a girlfriend. He's all open mouth and fumbling hands, wide grins and 'holy fuck' faces. Jen is just so matter of fact. I love her. I am going to fuck her hard for this. She's such a shocking tease.
She fumbles far too long with her purse and counting change, making sure her tits jiggle with each coin she passes from one hand to the other. She smirks as she watches him blush and dart his eyes back and forth from her tits to her face and then the floor and the tits again, but mostly the tits. Eventually, he relents pretending and just stares openly at her breasts. He takes the money. She could have counted cornflakes into his hand and he would not have known. He musters courage and breath to speak.
"Thanks for ordering Dominos and hey," he nods to her tits bouncing just a few feet from him, "thanks for the tip."
She bridges the gap too quickly for him to shrink away and hugs him tight, pressing her lovely breasts into his shoulder and cheek. "Drive safe now honey."
The door closes and she does a gorgeous little wiggly jig of naughty happiness and self-satisfaction. This kind of showing off is her bug powder dust; her drug of choice.
"Haha," I shake my head, "You fucken pricktease, you made that kids night."
"He deserves it, they pay those kids shit." She looks me up and down, stopping to gaze at my crotch. "Looks like he enjoyed the show too."
"Ha. What's not to love."
"Well." She interrupts her sudden seriousness, to put the pizza and garlic bread on the coffee table. "My showing off for one thing. How do you cope sometimes. I am such a fucking slut."
"I kinda dig it."
"Seriously? Like sometimes I can't believe myself." She has a stern face on now, some mercurial flip from flirty to sullen.
"Pizza boy is one thing, a bit of fun, but I'm relentless, you know it's like I need the constant attention from men to show me I'm not that buck toothed, flappy eared, mono-browed, beaver-caterpillar-elephant hybrid anymore. And you let me do it. Is there something wrong with you?"
I open the garlic bread and offer her the crusty end piece.
"See, just like that. That selfless shit you do. I know you love those bits."
I think on this as I look at her enjoying the garlic bread. Her eyes roll in almost orgasmic bliss as she savours the taste and textures. I take the other end of the loaf and say, "There's two ends to a loaf."
"What?"
"Two ends. You know, you love the attention, it re-affirms your attractiveness and gets you off somehow but I love it too. I get the other end. I get to know that those men wish they were me. I get to watch their faces while they watch. I get to see their jealous wives, their dropped jaws... For a short moment I'm not the 'mail room guy', I'm 'the guy with the hot wife'."
She just watches me strangely. I can see cogs turning back in her eyes.
"Hey also, you're fucking hot and I get to watch too."
She reaches for some pizza, taking the slice I had been eyeing off. The skinny piece with lots of pineapple and really browned crispy cheese. She's watching me intently while she does it and as she bites the perfect piece she mumbles with her mouth full, "The perfect slice."
"What?"
"You. The perfect piece of my cosmic pizza."
"Fuck off hippy, you're stoned."
She shoves me with her foot and smiles at me with her mouth full. "Thankyou for letting me show off. When they watch me, it's like they are my high school friends who teased me. I am making their boyfriends want me, I am prettier than them. I am hot and I am pretty and I can have any one of those boys I choose. Payback bitches."
"So technically, that counts for a layer?" I ask.
She shrugs in reply.
I offer her my underpants.
She spits bits of her pizza out in muffled laughter.
"Seriously, you are shit at these games. You're still wearing a watch and socks. You should have taken one of them off first."
"I know." I say, "I can see how this is going to end up anyway, no point avoiding the inevitable."
"Oh, so you think you can get my pants off? You can't have any more secrets Mr perfect! What did you do, kick a puppy?"
"Well, give me a moment."
She rolls her eyes and sighs. "Fine, how long do you need to make something up?"
"Oh I could make some shit up but that wouldn't be fair would it? Let me finish eating, maybe I'll think of something."
"Kay then... Just so you know, I'm down to my knickers..." She snaps the elastic of her cotton undies. They are daggy grandma pants with little flowers on them. It's very 'girl next door' for a self-confessed exhibitionist, but that's part of her allure. She's not a façade of make-up, Victoria's Secret and a false persona. She's just Jen. When we are out and she shows off, it's the fact that she's just another normal woman in the street who is displaying parts of herself out of context that make it so intensely arousing as opposed to the sensationalised efforts of attention whores with their special costumes and choreographed public 'oops' moments.
Unread post by jasmeet » 21 Jun 2016 13:29
I wash down my third slice of pizza, watching that part of Avatar where they are flying a helicopter through floating islands in the sky. It's a bit like my life, I think to myself. Navigating uncharted skies with no compass or instruments. Making my own direction. I've had to, my Mother died when I was very young, I hardly remember her and my father well...
"Hey Jen, I have another layer. I'm not sure if it counts but... you know."
"You want a drink first, was gonna fix one for myself."
"Maybe just a beer hey?"
She returns with fresh drinks, a beer for me and another long tall green dragon and lemonade for her. She folds her legs underneath her and absently fondles my dick as she watches the movie. I harden under her cool fingers and enjoy the dry tickly friction of her smooth hands on my shaft.
I drink the neck out of my lager and she's watching me instead of the movie. It's a little freaky. "What?"
"You had a layer to give me."
"Oh yeah, So..." I try to get my train of thought back from her fingers and my dick but it's not so easy.
"Yup, you know how Mum died right. I was only six or seven then."
"Cancer is poo."
"Yup... Dad and I hit the road. He towed a caravan around the state looking for labouring work. He'd never held a real steady job because Mum had a good income and he could hold out for well-paying contracts up till then."
I take another sip of beer trying to plot a path through my tale. Her hand has stopped stroking and now holds my dick like a parent holds a child's hand, with warmth and security even if it is my penis.
"So, one winter we were staying in a van park just outside of Southport. Dad had picked up work on a building site and enrolled me in school again for the first time in ages. We went into town one Saturday. They were my favourite day. All week I was at school and him at work till dark. It was lonely, but on weekends, we hung out. Saturdays, we'd go get a few groceries and have a wander around the shops. We'd talk about all the cool things we'd buy when we had a house again and tell big lies to each other about dreamed up things. At lunch we sat at tables in a KFC store and ate chips and chicken. These things were as close to family rituals as we'd come since Mum died."
She reaches for the remote and turns the volume down. It's an intimate gesture of interest that catches me off guard -- she's really listening. I watch her face for signs of mockery but her soft brown eyes are drinking from my face. Fuck I love her.
"Anyway, I finished lunch and needed to use the toilet. The toilets in the store were closed for cleaning so I told Dad I'd use the ones in the mall. I'd walked past them earlier and remembered they were next to the 'big W' store. He nodded and kept eating. I hurried because I was busting."
"When I came out, I was all turned around. I looked one way then the other and it all looked the same. I was a bit panicky but thought I remembered walking past the 'big W' checkouts so I went that direction but after a while nothing looked familiar and I went back the other way. Nothing seemed right and I couldn't find my way back."
"I must have walked in every direction I could think and I was getting even more confused and panicked, I couldn't even find my way back to the toilets or 'big W'. I found the exit and waited there thinking he would have to come out through the doors and would see me but then I remembered we came up from the underground parking. Maybe if I could find my way to the car? I went downstairs to the parking but it was so big and noisy. I walked up and down all the rows and couldn't find the car. By now I was crying and terrified. He was all I had left in the world."
"God! This is awful."
"A lady tried to help me but I wouldn't speak to her because she was a stranger; I remembered all the talks in school. She wanted to take me to the information desk but I wasn't leaving the car park. Dad would see me here if he went to leave. If I missed him and I lost Dad forever then I'd have nobody. Eventually I told her my Dad was in the KFC. She agreed to walk in front of me and I could follow her to the store. I did and it was just a little further down the way I had walked at first. I felt so stupid. I thanked the lady and went inside but he was gone."
"The table we were sitting at still had our empty boxes and drinks but there was no sign of him. All kinds of things went through my head. Perhaps he'd left without me. Maybe he'd been locked up -- he always spoke about money he owed people and the police catching up with him. I made up all sorts of horrible things in my head. All I knew was that he was gone too. My world was empty. I was completely alone. I cried and cried. You know that kid cry that comes from right down in your guts and wrings you out like a wet towel?"
I look at her and see tears in the corner of her eyes.
"What happened?"
"Well, some huge man, a guard or something picked me up. I beat him with my fists hard enough to blood his lip and he put me down but held on tight to my wrist and dragged me screaming to the information desk. All the time I thought he was taking me away to some home for bad kids. The one Dad threatened me with from time to time. Dad was waiting at the desk for me."
"He'd been searching for me the whole time, that's why he was gone from KFC. The same thing happens to hundreds of kids but for me back then it was the end of my world. Since Mum died, he was all I had and now he was gone. Perhaps it was getting me ready for the real thing. Dad died that year in the work accident. I went to live with Nan and Pop. I still woke up for years dreaming I was back in that shop lost and that if I could somehow get to the information desk I'd find Dad again."
"Arsehole."
"What? It's a layer."
"You made me cry you son of a bitch."
I shrug. I'm confused. I was wanting to share something. "I still have that dream now and then."
"Fuck. I bet that's why you're such a bloody control freak with maps and directions when we go anywhere. Why you're so loyal too."
"Maybe. Anyway, that's my thing. Why I don't like KFC and stuff."
She holds both sides of my face between her hands and kisses me fiercely on the mouth.
"I'm not leaving you. You're stuck with me. Don't panic when I'm a bitch sometimes or when you're an arsehole. I'm family. We're a unit. Got it? You're not alone in this world."
"I know."
She stands and fetches tissues from the kitchen. She's always been emotional. It's good. Sometimes she cries for me. When I can't do the tears, she does them. Before she sits, she peels off her undies and throws them toward the hall.
Snuggling her head into my neck and turning the movie volume back up she says, "No more depressing layers now okay. Happy ones only."
"I think we're out of layers to remove."
"We're out of clothes, not layers. I'm sure we've still got more."
It's quiet for a little while. I feel naked and vulnerable in a few different ways. Obviously, I am physically devoid of clothing, as is she, but having spilled two deeply held personal truths, my emotions are unguarded in a strangely liberating way. Like when you go for a physical and the doctor looks you up and down after you walk out from behind the screen and you wait for some sort of judgement. You've prepared yourself but it doesn't eventuate.
"So how about this?" she smiles and wipes the last bits of sniffle from her nose. "Something naughty for a layer..."
"Sounds good to me."
"Cool."
"Yup."
"No, it's cool dummy. Turn the heat up a little or fetch a blanket."
"I like you better without a blanket..."
"Pig."
I grab the remote and turn the air conditioner to 'heat'.
"Now go fetch my toys you mean bastard."
"What did I do?"
"Made me cry. You don't get away with that. Go. Fetch..." She gestures toward the bedroom.
I pout and throw a cushion at her as I stand. "Cry-baby."
"Wait, come back here... closer... closer... good."
I'm standing right in front of her and she leans forward sucking my flaccid dick into her mouth. Her fingers cup my balls and she sucks life into me. When she's satisfied I'm hard enough she pushes on my belly.
"Now fuck off. Bring back drinks and don't let that go down. It's my mood thermometer. I've set it to horny and don't want to see it fall back to morbid."
I half chuckle and fetch her little 'tool box' (seriously, it's a metal tool box we got from a hardware store to hold our sex toys -- seemed to make ironic sense at the time). There's more beer but I hate feeling bloated so grab a bottle of pinot noir and two glasses. When I return, she's started without me, slowly fingering herself. She's rolling wetness around her lips and over her clit in a lazy, distracted way while she watches Jake and Neytiri fuck under a glowing tree.
"Sit, this is hot."
I sit and poor drinks she takes hers from the coffee table and I can smell her pussy on her fingers as she raises it to her lips. I wonder how ones' pallet reacts to berry, pepper and pussy tones in a red. She catches me smiling.
"Six."
"What?"
"My number. Six. How many guys I've fucked."
"Seriously? Six." I taste the word on my tongue. It's not very many but who am I to judge?
"Too many? Not enough?"
"I don't know. Are you happy with that number?"
"Well it's a thing isn't it. Too many and you're a slut. Too few and you're whatever too few is labelled."
"I'm sorry, I just figured you'd have been with lots of guys. You're just so you know..."
"An out of control show off?"
"Well, there's that... I guess since I've known you, you've always been a highly sexual woman so I guessed you had a lot of experience."
"Nope... Late bloomer. I think you just gave me some sexual confidence by believing that about me, so it was easy to start testing boundaries with you. Try out new things. Show off a bit."
"Okay..."
"Do you want to know their names?"
"No. Well not unless you need me to know..."
"Hmm..." She looks off to the side and in this instant I know she is thinking specifically of other men she has fucked. Men who've known her intimately, who've fucked her, put their cocks in her. She's moaned for them, sucked their cocks and let them taste her. I'm surprised how hard the thought of it makes me. I expected to be horrified.
"Nope, none of them you'll ever meet or bump into I don't suppose."
A silence creeps across our lounge room like a shifty fog in a shady alley. We're both trying to digest feelings I guess. I sip my wine and watch aliens fuck.
"Oh fuck, wait," she puts a hand on my arm while counting in her head, "sixteen."
"What?"
"I forgot some."
"Ten."
"Yeah. Ten."
"One would be easy to forget, how do you forget ten?"
"Shut up arsehole. I just forgot. It was kind of a fuck up anyway."
"Do tell."
"I'm not sure I want to now you judgemental misogynist."
I look at her beside me and she's intent on the aliens fucking and I can't read her face. I raise an eyebrow and she continues.
"You know how I said I had my ears done and then my braces... I was in university by then. One of my girlfriends, Donna, took me to a salon one summer holiday. She said if I was going to hang out on the beach with her all summer that I had to look good. They did my hair and waxed my eyebrows, showed me how to apply make up properly and we shopped for summer clothes. By the end of the day, it was like one of those before and after things. When I went home, Mum cried and hugged me. Dad read me the rights on boys and dating and curfew hours and you can imagine anyway..."
She sips her wine and gathers thoughts.
"That summer we spent every day at the beach. I had a boyfriend at the time but he was at summer school, catching up some units. We met up on weekends. All my old school friends were at the beach those holidays. "Oh you look so different" "Oh your teeth are great" "Do you remember when we called you blah blah blah" They just wouldn't shut up about it and you know - it was still bullying. They didn't want to let me out of that box they had me in. They didn't like me being their equal. I also saw their boyfriends started noticing me."
"Hold that thought darlin... I gotta use the little boys room."
She had been rambling on automatic and watching television at the same time. My bladder told me it was time to interrupt. When I returned she put her glass down and faced me. "Sorry, I was giving you the girl version. Anyway, I was pissed off at them all. I noticed their boyfriends all paying me attention now. I played up to it -- you know what I'm like. I got them to rub lotion on, adjust my straps, I sat on laps and flirted -- it was great fun. Then one night we had this big campfire on the beach. Everyone was drinking and there was music. Boys were asking me to dance. Girls I knew from school were jealous and it was awesome."
She looks at me thought fully for a few seconds then continues. "Donna and I were dancing later; there were three or four boys with us. Donna leaned in close and said, "We should do a gang bang". I asked her what that was and she said, "Well, we're out of drinks so we get one of the boys to let us use his panelvan and the guys bring us drinks all night and all we have to do is let them fuck us. Come on it will be fun. You're so hot now, they'll all want you." I wasn't sure but Donna said, "They have to wear condoms, so it doesn't even really count as a fuck. Come on, your my best friend, I don't want to do it on my own." I was nervous but I thought if I wanted in to be in their world I better dive in."
"Fuck..." I'm hard as a rock. There's no hiding how I feel about her story. She notices too...
"Well he likes my story." Leaning forward she gives me a trite kiss on the knob. "I'll take that as a cue to continue unless you are uncomfortable listening?"
"You joking? Go on, it's hot as fuck."
"I thought you'd like parts of this story you pervert. So anyway, Donna talks to one of the guys and he nods and before you know it we are sitting in the back of a panelvan in the parking lot drinking beers and talking to two boys. It starts very mechanically, Donna says, "You've got to fuck him now. Lie down and take off your panties." She actually said 'panties' I fucken hate that word. Anyway I was nervous but this was my way in, so I did as I was told. The boy climbed on top and stuck his little dick in me. He bumped against me a few times and pulled out and said, 'Thanks Jenny' and handed Donna a used condom."
"I was curious about the condom but before I could ask, the other boy was having his turn and he kept going and going. Donna said, "You gotta moan or something so he doesn't think you're a dead root." I made the noises I'd heard in porn movies and soon enough he got off me and handed over a condom. More boys brought beers, we drank and laughed, I fucked them, and they just kept coming. No pun intended. I was getting sore. My vagina burned from the condoms and they were a bit rough you know but I kept going because I thought. Well. I thought..."
"Fuck. Jen, you don't have to keep going darl. I get it." I rub her shoulder and she is crying again. So much for date night and mischief.
"I want you to know this about me if you can handle it."
"I can hear it."
"I had my first orgasm from vaginal sex that night. I'd only had two boyfriends before that night so I was pretty inexperienced. It was far more mechanical than enjoyable. After a couple of hours they stopped coming to the panelvan. I was sore, emotional and half-drunk and asked Donna, "What now?" She said "Nothing, that's it I guess. Let's go back." I wobbled back to the beach with her. My legs were shaky but my face was smiling thinking I'd just be one of the crowd now."
"It was horrible. The girls called me names, 'slut', 'beer whore', the boys mimicked fuck noises. "She's a howler. Arrooo..arrooo." I cried. Donna handed one of the girls, Susan, the condoms and she counted them. "Ten! You fucking slut." They tied them in a necklace and hung them around my neck. Donna had been part of the set up all along. I saw her again throughout uni years but we were done as friends."
"Fuck..."
"I walked home from the beach and put myself back together along the way. You know the truth of it was they were jealous. I'd become a threat to them and they wanted to knock me back down. They thought they could humiliate me but it backfired on them. They'd just shown me I was the one with the power. For the rest of that year any time they gave me shit I flirted with their boyfriends and reminded them I could take their boyfriend any time I wanted."
"..." I get the feeling I'm supposed to say something but I don't know what it is. "So?"
"Well I don't know, that's quite a story."
"Does it count as a layer?"
"Sure. I guess it explains some stuff, but, fuck it, it's just hot as fuck thinking of you letting all those men fuck you. Do you ever consider it now? You know when you are showing off. Let them touch you, maybe fuck you?"
"Well yeah, but you know, I got you. Don't want to lose a good thing for a fun time."
"Hmmm. I seem to be out of clothes to give you."
"So maybe these?" She takes nipple clamps out of the tool box and dangles them.
"And you can kiss her better." She looks down at her crotch. "I feel sore again just thinking about it."
I take the nipple clamps she's holding and moving over her I lick her left nipple. I slurp it like a popsicle, letting the rough of my tongue make it hard. I grab it between my teeth and gnaw it before pinching it between my fingers and putting the clamp on. I do the same on the other side. Her hips buck wildly at me, thrusting involuntarily with each tug on the chain that links the clamps.
I push her back on the couch and trail nips and licks up first one thigh then the other. Stopping just short of her pussy, I blow warm air on her wet lips and run just the tip of my tongue up the slit of her, gently parting her lips. Flicking her clit with my tongue, I start again, a long slow lick from bottom to top until my saliva mixes with her arousal and my face is slick with the musky mess of it all.
She grinds against my nose and chin while I lap at her hole, sticking my tongue in and out. Replacing it with two fingers, I turn my tongue to her clit and firmly probe around it. My fingers work back and forward on the roof of her vagina and she grabs my hair roughly, as I find 'her spot', the bit that tips her over. She's thrusting roughly on my face and growling want at me, then suddenly, "Stop!" "Stop... God. Not just yet."
With fingers on my chin, she raises my face to hers and kisses me deeply making her face wet with her own juices and she sucks on my tongue. "God, you're good at that. You know me too well."
"Eighty plus."
"What?"
"My number."
"You fucking whore boy!"
I pour more wine.
"You're making that up to make me feel better."
"I wish I was."
"Eighty plus... They reckon most men double their number." She chews the idea of it in her mind. "Was that when you were in the army?"
"Yeah. We were horny little motherfuckers with nothing to spend our money on except going into town and partying. Didn't have a steady girlfriend, just a new girl every weekend. In any case, it was kind of hollow, like having a wank using some chick's pussy instead of my hand."
"Oh you poor boy..." The sarcasm drips from pouting lips.
"Well hell, it was fun at the time but what I really wanted was some sort of intimacy."
"Sounds like I have some catching up to do. Six versus Eighty-six."
"Sixteen... If I knew we were going 'even stevens', I probably would have slowed down but I didn't even know you back then."
"Man whore."
"Slut guts."
"Fuck toy."
"Turtle."
"What? Turtle?"
"Yeah." I mime lying on my back waving my legs and arms like I can't get up. She bursts into fits of those fairy giggles she does and collapses onto my bare chest.
I'm not the intuitive type. I don't see the tiny nuances of body language that would hint at her insobriety. I'm not even what you would usually call 'observant'. I'm typically fairly self-absorbed and intrinsic. It has even been suggested that I'm a bit of an aloof prick sometime. But, call me Sherlock fucking Holmes, the woman is staring at an onion. She has been for longer than it took for the Seven O'clock News to finish.
"Darlin?"
"Ya?"
"You doin?"
"Hahahahaha."
A thousand tiny glass wind chimes jingle then shatter every time she giggles. I've laughed before simply because she is laughing. It's the kind of sound you would imagine fairies dream of making when they laugh but can't quite achieve, leaving them feeling kind of less than perfectly fairy like; a bit of a fraud in their wings and tutus prancing around amongst flowers thinking, "Fuck it, I'll just be a leprechaun or something."
"I'm looking at this onion."
"I noticed."
"Heh, it's layered."
"Have you been watching Shrek again?"
"No. I was going to make pizza."
Oh god I love this woman. Pizza!
"Pepperoni?"
"Nah."
"Ham and pineapple."
"Nah."
"So..."
"So I was thinking what is inside an onion?"
"What?" Now, I seriously doubt I'm going to get pizza. Our tangents diverge.
"You know, when you get all its layers off. What's inside?"
"Nothing."
"No shithead, there's got to be something."
"Look, I'm gonna order out." She's been in the kitchen for more than half an hour. We were going to have pizza and movies night but I think she's found my 'Green Dragon' pot liqueur.
"Don't you ever wonder?"
"I'm wondering Hawaiian or Mexican?"
"Shithead... you're killing my tangent. Just order what you want, oh grr... and garlic bread. Lots of garlic bread. Fuck it, forget the pizza just get garlic bread."
"Haha, you're a messy kite."
"Fuck you. You're an onion."
I call Domino's and place an order for a pepperoni with extra jalapeno and two rolls of garlic bread. They promise it will be here in half an hour and clarify my address. The movie we've chosen for movie night is 'Avatar'. Jen loves it.
"Babe?"
"Yeah."
"You get garlic bread?"
"Yeah."
"I love you."
"I love you too Darlin'."
"Fucken liar. Onion Liar."
"What?"
She sits beside me on the couch smelling like soap and shampoo. She has a towel curled up like a turban on her head and has stolen one of my t-shirts again; my new Steel Panther t-shirt.
"Hey, that's my new shirt."
"Haha, it was lonely and afraid in the drawer so I gave it a home." She pats her boobs gently. "Poor widdle shirty wirty..."
"Hff..." I probably can't ever wear it again now, its overtly sexual and rebellious tones thoroughly ruined by 'widdle shirty wirty'."
"Ok then..." My emasculated shirt and I sit in silence.
"Hey so..." she shoves me with her foot. Her long legs flash flesh at me and I can't blame my t-shirt for wanting to go and live on her gorgeous tits.
"So..."
"So... you're an onion."
"Wha..."
I don't know what she means. I'm a bit annoyed, she's off on a road trip without a map and if experience serves me, my only option, and usually the most enjoyable one, is to jump on board and ride along.
"So... Each ring the onion has, it put there. It made that shit. Out of dirt even." She sounds incredulous at her own analogy, "It made a wall or clothes or a mask or something that it wanted the world to see instead of the little tiny onion soul inside and over time changed until it looked nothing like what it really was inside. Until it was nothing like its true shit, it's true soul."
She stares absently into space for a moment lost in internal philosophy then continues, "So now it was just an ugly brown onion so I cut it open to see inside."
"So there was a happy little brown round dude and you stabbed it? Fuck...."
"No, I cut it." She shoves me with her foot again. I like her legs . "I cut you!" I make a stabbing gesture and ham it up.
"Drink! I hate you straight when I'm a pipe cleaner."
"Pipe cleaner?"
"All twisted bent like a little pipe cleaner doll. Did you ever make a pipe cleaner doll?"
I shake my head, she butterflies from thought to thought; I love her but she confounds my sobriety. I take the tall green drink she's brought me and slug a good mouth full down. She natters about the movie for a little while and I nod and trace the path of drugs through my body. My mouth tastes first the mint, chocolate and raw alcohol flavours; my stomach warms. In just a moment, I can feel the alcohol surge through me like a flash fire. A few moments later, the THC slides over me like a favourite old winter coat and I can feel my mouth twist in the corner like a playful thing waking from a week long sleep at work.
"Hellooo... Friday night."
"Ha... It's good right. Shut-up, I like this bit."
I ride the buzz to a peak. It hits smoothly, and woah... It mellows sweetly to a body buzz.
"Hey..."
"Yeah?"
"So onions?"
"What?"
"You were talking about onions."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"You were... Layers... or something. I was listening but I was hungry."
"Oh yeah." She pounces on me. "You do listen sometimes."
Her soft arms are round my neck and she hugs me intimately and close.
"So..."
"Yup..."
"Want to play a game?" she mumbles coyly into my neck.
Her lips move against the skin of my throat and I think my dick responds, "Hell yeah!" before I do.
"Kay, so... clothes are like layers too right?"
"Guess so."
"So, you take off a layer, I take off a layer... capiche paison?" She tries on a Mafioso face and puffs a pretend cigar, her playful mischief written in naughty twinkles in her eyes.
"Mmhmm?"
"You volunteer a thing that changed you, that made you grow a layer. Show me how that layer grew and help me know you more and I remove a layer."
"Sounds fairly one sided. I have to tell you my deepest darkest things to get your gear off?"
"Hmm. Fair point. I'll sweeten the pot." She thinks a little pointing out stray things in the movie.
"Fuck, look how tall they are. Have you ever fucked a chick that tall?"
"They're ten foot tall aliens. Do you know any ten-foot tall alien chicks? I'll try anything once."
"Oh yeah, hey... I've got it. Quid pro quo and a layer of clothes. So if your story tells me something I didn't already know about you, I remove a piece of clothing then I have to tell a story and if you already didn't know it then you have to get some gear off."
I quickly do an item count. That one that you learn to do in early teen games of truth or dare and strip jack. Neither of us is wearing much anyway so it should be fair and fun.
"So... you first." She shoves me with her foot again.
"Let me think a bit, I can't just vomit something profound up just like that."
"Okay, well I'll go."
She gets comfortable and fluffs cushions, like she is mentally gathering papers on a podium. I see nervousness underneath the ritual, "You know how you always ask about my baby photos? There are none."
She waits for my attention and when I hold her eyes she continues, "I was kind of an ugly duckling teen. You know, gangly with a too big head and no boobs, funny teeth. I always felt ugly. Kids at school would tease me about my ears, my braces, my eyebrows. You know what they are like."
"When I was eighteen, nineteen I started filling out, learned a bit more about grooming, plucked my caterpillars, got my braces off, was suddenly normal. Not pretty but not ugly, and I made friends easy cause all those years of getting bullied grew me a personality."
She sips her drink, "I was horrified that people would find out what I used to be like so one afternoon I gathered all the photographs I could find at home of me as a child and burned them in the incinerator."
"Fuck really? Beth and Bill would have loved that."
"They spewed. I was in so much trouble. I kept one picture. It's in an old year book. I kept it to remind myself that I was ugly once; to keep me humble."
"Pff... You can't have been that ugly. I get gangly teen, I was the same. Took ages to grow into myself."
"I'll show you, I kept it." As she walks to the bedroom I try to objectify her appearance. She is not tall, not short, five foot six to my five foot nine. She's fit but deliciously curvy, has nicely shaped everything, especially her arse which waggles under my t-shirt as she walks away. She has shoulder length hair that keeps changing colour (it's currently red) and she has a pretty heart shaped face with big brown eyes and well maybe her nose is a bit big but she fits together well into more than averagely attractive package. She has to be exaggerating her self-loathing. She could never have been truly ugly.
She returns and plonks down on the couch. Launching from a few feet away and crashing onto it like a sullen teen. She's removed the towel and brushes her hair as I stare at the yearbook she drops in my lap. I flick through, "St Mary's High 1993." Try as I may, I can't find any pictures of her.
"Here." She snatches it away and flicks to a page near the back. "Where?"
She points at a picture of two kids holding a trophy. I must still look confused because she taps one of the girls on the face and says, "That one."
She is watching my face for reactions and she finds them. "I told you so."
"Fuck, wow, those ears..." I don't want to be shallow and harsh but I don't want to be dishonest either. She was truly unpretty. The child in the year book is tall and skinny, flat chested, and mostly like every other teen except she has ears that stick out sideways like car doors. Not big ears just they point the wrong way. Her nose is overly big for her young face and her front teeth look like a rabbit that has run into post. Her eyebrows meet in the middle and are really fuzzy and thick.
"It's ok to be shocked. I wouldn't have shown you if I wasn't prepared for that."
"But how did..." I gesture at her beside me now. "All this hot..."
"Mum and Dad gave me surgery for my eighteenth birthday. I had my ears pinned, see..." She leans close and pulls an ear forward. I can see a tiny scar behind it. "...and my nose tidied up a bit. My teeth took until I was about twenty to sort out completely. Mostly it was just correcting the bite and my face growing to fit them. And well, that eyebrow... Just a matter of learning to take care of my appearance."
"Far out, you don't look anything like that now."
"But it's still me. Inside, I'm still that ugly kid sometimes. Inside, boys ignore me, girls make fun of me and I hate me. The new me, I like. Just sometimes I'm the old me for a bit."
"Well, that's definitely a layer I didn't know about." I peel off my shirt. It's warm and I'm more comfortable without it anyway.
"Well your turn now."
"Hold up 'fugly', I'm thinking."
She belly laughs and punches me, "Arsehole," as she goes to make more drinks.
We're at that part of the movie where Jake is promised surgery in exchange for information and she tells the flat screen, "Don't trust that arsehole, Jake. Haven't you seen the ending?"
"Haha, the ending hasn't happened for him yet."
"Well it's out on DVD, rent a copy fucker!" she yells at Jake.
"That's it. That's a layer I can give you."
"What, the DVD. I own it already."
"No..." She's so literal to my metaphoric. "I don't trust men. My layer. My thing. I don't trust men. That's why I don't really have any close mates."
"You are one, a man. How can you not trust them?"
"Coach... When I was at uni my coach abused me."
"Like molested you or something?"
"Something like that."
"Fuck... how. You were huge as a young bloke." She mocks flexing her arms.
"At an end of term football party. It was some sort of initiation or hazing thing. They did it to all the rookies. Coach wore a strap on dildo. We all had to bend over and he stuck it up our bums while the older players laughed and cheered. Worst part was I got a boner. I thought that meant I'd liked it; made me gay or something."
"Holy shit."
"So, now I hate football and I don't trust men." I shrug as if I don't care.
"You should have made a complaint or something."
"It was easier to run, just fuck off. I quit my scholarship and joined the army."
"You trust my Dad though right, you guys go fishing and stuff."
"That's different, Bill's like my dad."
"Oh... wow." She is quiet and gobbles popcorn, eyes glued to the television while I imagine I can actually see her mind ticking over.
"Great. So I bare my soul and you're more interested in giant blue bitches."
"Shh..." She frowns at me. "I like this bit."
She does some sort of epileptic python dance with her arms under her t-shirt and produces a bra. Still watching the screen, she hands it to me. "Happy?" I take it, looking at it strangely. This is acceptable currency for knowing my deepest shame? It's lacy and I figure I can't be too cut up about her dispassionate response, because I seem to be getting a boner. Still, I've kept this thing locked in a tiny box in the recesses of my mind for millennia as it shames me so deeply. It can't really hurt me anymore, all the sting has gone out of the memories but... Well, really, I can't think why I ever kept it from her. It seems like a useless layer now. Perhaps this game has merit.
"I think I feel a bit raw."
"Like exposed?"
"Yeah."
"Good raw? Bad raw?"
"Like it doesn't really matter raw."
"Like you forgot to put a shirt on but it doesn't really matter because you're at home anyway?"
"Yeah something like that."
She puts some popcorn in her mouth and scootches a little closer on the couch. Her right arm reaches round my shoulder while her eyes never leave the television and she pulls me a bit closer.
"I love you anyway you gimp fucktoy."
It's my turn to belly laugh embarrassment off. A euphoric wave of acceptance and gratitude, babbles out of my mouth in a series of ape-like sniggers.
"You have the shittiest laugh. Seriously, don't ever laugh again." She puts a hand over my mouth and nose, "Just be sad or angry or something ok."
"Horny count?" I mumble.
"Ooh... I like horny."
The doorbell rings.
"Pizza O'clock!" she claps.
"Hang on buddy, I'm coming." I shout to the door.
"I'll get it." She stands and grabs her purse from the coffee table.
Almost to the door she stops and turns.
"Hey..."
"Yup."
She makes real eye contact and bites her lower lip before saying, "That really was a substantial layer. Thankyou for trusting me." She pulls off her shirt (my Steel Panther shirt) and throws it to me.
I catch it and watch her open the door and pay for the pizza.
In nothing but her undies and socks.
The pizza boy is a spotty kid. Old enough to have a licence, vote and drink but too young to have a proper job or by the looks of things a girlfriend. He's all open mouth and fumbling hands, wide grins and 'holy fuck' faces. Jen is just so matter of fact. I love her. I am going to fuck her hard for this. She's such a shocking tease.
She fumbles far too long with her purse and counting change, making sure her tits jiggle with each coin she passes from one hand to the other. She smirks as she watches him blush and dart his eyes back and forth from her tits to her face and then the floor and the tits again, but mostly the tits. Eventually, he relents pretending and just stares openly at her breasts. He takes the money. She could have counted cornflakes into his hand and he would not have known. He musters courage and breath to speak.
"Thanks for ordering Dominos and hey," he nods to her tits bouncing just a few feet from him, "thanks for the tip."
She bridges the gap too quickly for him to shrink away and hugs him tight, pressing her lovely breasts into his shoulder and cheek. "Drive safe now honey."
The door closes and she does a gorgeous little wiggly jig of naughty happiness and self-satisfaction. This kind of showing off is her bug powder dust; her drug of choice.
"Haha," I shake my head, "You fucken pricktease, you made that kids night."
"He deserves it, they pay those kids shit." She looks me up and down, stopping to gaze at my crotch. "Looks like he enjoyed the show too."
"Ha. What's not to love."
"Well." She interrupts her sudden seriousness, to put the pizza and garlic bread on the coffee table. "My showing off for one thing. How do you cope sometimes. I am such a fucking slut."
"I kinda dig it."
"Seriously? Like sometimes I can't believe myself." She has a stern face on now, some mercurial flip from flirty to sullen.
"Pizza boy is one thing, a bit of fun, but I'm relentless, you know it's like I need the constant attention from men to show me I'm not that buck toothed, flappy eared, mono-browed, beaver-caterpillar-elephant hybrid anymore. And you let me do it. Is there something wrong with you?"
I open the garlic bread and offer her the crusty end piece.
"See, just like that. That selfless shit you do. I know you love those bits."
I think on this as I look at her enjoying the garlic bread. Her eyes roll in almost orgasmic bliss as she savours the taste and textures. I take the other end of the loaf and say, "There's two ends to a loaf."
"What?"
"Two ends. You know, you love the attention, it re-affirms your attractiveness and gets you off somehow but I love it too. I get the other end. I get to know that those men wish they were me. I get to watch their faces while they watch. I get to see their jealous wives, their dropped jaws... For a short moment I'm not the 'mail room guy', I'm 'the guy with the hot wife'."
She just watches me strangely. I can see cogs turning back in her eyes.
"Hey also, you're fucking hot and I get to watch too."
She reaches for some pizza, taking the slice I had been eyeing off. The skinny piece with lots of pineapple and really browned crispy cheese. She's watching me intently while she does it and as she bites the perfect piece she mumbles with her mouth full, "The perfect slice."
"What?"
"You. The perfect piece of my cosmic pizza."
"Fuck off hippy, you're stoned."
She shoves me with her foot and smiles at me with her mouth full. "Thankyou for letting me show off. When they watch me, it's like they are my high school friends who teased me. I am making their boyfriends want me, I am prettier than them. I am hot and I am pretty and I can have any one of those boys I choose. Payback bitches."
"So technically, that counts for a layer?" I ask.
She shrugs in reply.
I offer her my underpants.
She spits bits of her pizza out in muffled laughter.
"Seriously, you are shit at these games. You're still wearing a watch and socks. You should have taken one of them off first."
"I know." I say, "I can see how this is going to end up anyway, no point avoiding the inevitable."
"Oh, so you think you can get my pants off? You can't have any more secrets Mr perfect! What did you do, kick a puppy?"
"Well, give me a moment."
She rolls her eyes and sighs. "Fine, how long do you need to make something up?"
"Oh I could make some shit up but that wouldn't be fair would it? Let me finish eating, maybe I'll think of something."
"Kay then... Just so you know, I'm down to my knickers..." She snaps the elastic of her cotton undies. They are daggy grandma pants with little flowers on them. It's very 'girl next door' for a self-confessed exhibitionist, but that's part of her allure. She's not a façade of make-up, Victoria's Secret and a false persona. She's just Jen. When we are out and she shows off, it's the fact that she's just another normal woman in the street who is displaying parts of herself out of context that make it so intensely arousing as opposed to the sensationalised efforts of attention whores with their special costumes and choreographed public 'oops' moments.
Unread post by jasmeet » 21 Jun 2016 13:29
I wash down my third slice of pizza, watching that part of Avatar where they are flying a helicopter through floating islands in the sky. It's a bit like my life, I think to myself. Navigating uncharted skies with no compass or instruments. Making my own direction. I've had to, my Mother died when I was very young, I hardly remember her and my father well...
"Hey Jen, I have another layer. I'm not sure if it counts but... you know."
"You want a drink first, was gonna fix one for myself."
"Maybe just a beer hey?"
She returns with fresh drinks, a beer for me and another long tall green dragon and lemonade for her. She folds her legs underneath her and absently fondles my dick as she watches the movie. I harden under her cool fingers and enjoy the dry tickly friction of her smooth hands on my shaft.
I drink the neck out of my lager and she's watching me instead of the movie. It's a little freaky. "What?"
"You had a layer to give me."
"Oh yeah, So..." I try to get my train of thought back from her fingers and my dick but it's not so easy.
"Yup, you know how Mum died right. I was only six or seven then."
"Cancer is poo."
"Yup... Dad and I hit the road. He towed a caravan around the state looking for labouring work. He'd never held a real steady job because Mum had a good income and he could hold out for well-paying contracts up till then."
I take another sip of beer trying to plot a path through my tale. Her hand has stopped stroking and now holds my dick like a parent holds a child's hand, with warmth and security even if it is my penis.
"So, one winter we were staying in a van park just outside of Southport. Dad had picked up work on a building site and enrolled me in school again for the first time in ages. We went into town one Saturday. They were my favourite day. All week I was at school and him at work till dark. It was lonely, but on weekends, we hung out. Saturdays, we'd go get a few groceries and have a wander around the shops. We'd talk about all the cool things we'd buy when we had a house again and tell big lies to each other about dreamed up things. At lunch we sat at tables in a KFC store and ate chips and chicken. These things were as close to family rituals as we'd come since Mum died."
She reaches for the remote and turns the volume down. It's an intimate gesture of interest that catches me off guard -- she's really listening. I watch her face for signs of mockery but her soft brown eyes are drinking from my face. Fuck I love her.
"Anyway, I finished lunch and needed to use the toilet. The toilets in the store were closed for cleaning so I told Dad I'd use the ones in the mall. I'd walked past them earlier and remembered they were next to the 'big W' store. He nodded and kept eating. I hurried because I was busting."
"When I came out, I was all turned around. I looked one way then the other and it all looked the same. I was a bit panicky but thought I remembered walking past the 'big W' checkouts so I went that direction but after a while nothing looked familiar and I went back the other way. Nothing seemed right and I couldn't find my way back."
"I must have walked in every direction I could think and I was getting even more confused and panicked, I couldn't even find my way back to the toilets or 'big W'. I found the exit and waited there thinking he would have to come out through the doors and would see me but then I remembered we came up from the underground parking. Maybe if I could find my way to the car? I went downstairs to the parking but it was so big and noisy. I walked up and down all the rows and couldn't find the car. By now I was crying and terrified. He was all I had left in the world."
"God! This is awful."
"A lady tried to help me but I wouldn't speak to her because she was a stranger; I remembered all the talks in school. She wanted to take me to the information desk but I wasn't leaving the car park. Dad would see me here if he went to leave. If I missed him and I lost Dad forever then I'd have nobody. Eventually I told her my Dad was in the KFC. She agreed to walk in front of me and I could follow her to the store. I did and it was just a little further down the way I had walked at first. I felt so stupid. I thanked the lady and went inside but he was gone."
"The table we were sitting at still had our empty boxes and drinks but there was no sign of him. All kinds of things went through my head. Perhaps he'd left without me. Maybe he'd been locked up -- he always spoke about money he owed people and the police catching up with him. I made up all sorts of horrible things in my head. All I knew was that he was gone too. My world was empty. I was completely alone. I cried and cried. You know that kid cry that comes from right down in your guts and wrings you out like a wet towel?"
I look at her and see tears in the corner of her eyes.
"What happened?"
"Well, some huge man, a guard or something picked me up. I beat him with my fists hard enough to blood his lip and he put me down but held on tight to my wrist and dragged me screaming to the information desk. All the time I thought he was taking me away to some home for bad kids. The one Dad threatened me with from time to time. Dad was waiting at the desk for me."
"He'd been searching for me the whole time, that's why he was gone from KFC. The same thing happens to hundreds of kids but for me back then it was the end of my world. Since Mum died, he was all I had and now he was gone. Perhaps it was getting me ready for the real thing. Dad died that year in the work accident. I went to live with Nan and Pop. I still woke up for years dreaming I was back in that shop lost and that if I could somehow get to the information desk I'd find Dad again."
"Arsehole."
"What? It's a layer."
"You made me cry you son of a bitch."
I shrug. I'm confused. I was wanting to share something. "I still have that dream now and then."
"Fuck. I bet that's why you're such a bloody control freak with maps and directions when we go anywhere. Why you're so loyal too."
"Maybe. Anyway, that's my thing. Why I don't like KFC and stuff."
She holds both sides of my face between her hands and kisses me fiercely on the mouth.
"I'm not leaving you. You're stuck with me. Don't panic when I'm a bitch sometimes or when you're an arsehole. I'm family. We're a unit. Got it? You're not alone in this world."
"I know."
She stands and fetches tissues from the kitchen. She's always been emotional. It's good. Sometimes she cries for me. When I can't do the tears, she does them. Before she sits, she peels off her undies and throws them toward the hall.
Snuggling her head into my neck and turning the movie volume back up she says, "No more depressing layers now okay. Happy ones only."
"I think we're out of layers to remove."
"We're out of clothes, not layers. I'm sure we've still got more."
It's quiet for a little while. I feel naked and vulnerable in a few different ways. Obviously, I am physically devoid of clothing, as is she, but having spilled two deeply held personal truths, my emotions are unguarded in a strangely liberating way. Like when you go for a physical and the doctor looks you up and down after you walk out from behind the screen and you wait for some sort of judgement. You've prepared yourself but it doesn't eventuate.
"So how about this?" she smiles and wipes the last bits of sniffle from her nose. "Something naughty for a layer..."
"Sounds good to me."
"Cool."
"Yup."
"No, it's cool dummy. Turn the heat up a little or fetch a blanket."
"I like you better without a blanket..."
"Pig."
I grab the remote and turn the air conditioner to 'heat'.
"Now go fetch my toys you mean bastard."
"What did I do?"
"Made me cry. You don't get away with that. Go. Fetch..." She gestures toward the bedroom.
I pout and throw a cushion at her as I stand. "Cry-baby."
"Wait, come back here... closer... closer... good."
I'm standing right in front of her and she leans forward sucking my flaccid dick into her mouth. Her fingers cup my balls and she sucks life into me. When she's satisfied I'm hard enough she pushes on my belly.
"Now fuck off. Bring back drinks and don't let that go down. It's my mood thermometer. I've set it to horny and don't want to see it fall back to morbid."
I half chuckle and fetch her little 'tool box' (seriously, it's a metal tool box we got from a hardware store to hold our sex toys -- seemed to make ironic sense at the time). There's more beer but I hate feeling bloated so grab a bottle of pinot noir and two glasses. When I return, she's started without me, slowly fingering herself. She's rolling wetness around her lips and over her clit in a lazy, distracted way while she watches Jake and Neytiri fuck under a glowing tree.
"Sit, this is hot."
I sit and poor drinks she takes hers from the coffee table and I can smell her pussy on her fingers as she raises it to her lips. I wonder how ones' pallet reacts to berry, pepper and pussy tones in a red. She catches me smiling.
"Six."
"What?"
"My number. Six. How many guys I've fucked."
"Seriously? Six." I taste the word on my tongue. It's not very many but who am I to judge?
"Too many? Not enough?"
"I don't know. Are you happy with that number?"
"Well it's a thing isn't it. Too many and you're a slut. Too few and you're whatever too few is labelled."
"I'm sorry, I just figured you'd have been with lots of guys. You're just so you know..."
"An out of control show off?"
"Well, there's that... I guess since I've known you, you've always been a highly sexual woman so I guessed you had a lot of experience."
"Nope... Late bloomer. I think you just gave me some sexual confidence by believing that about me, so it was easy to start testing boundaries with you. Try out new things. Show off a bit."
"Okay..."
"Do you want to know their names?"
"No. Well not unless you need me to know..."
"Hmm..." She looks off to the side and in this instant I know she is thinking specifically of other men she has fucked. Men who've known her intimately, who've fucked her, put their cocks in her. She's moaned for them, sucked their cocks and let them taste her. I'm surprised how hard the thought of it makes me. I expected to be horrified.
"Nope, none of them you'll ever meet or bump into I don't suppose."
A silence creeps across our lounge room like a shifty fog in a shady alley. We're both trying to digest feelings I guess. I sip my wine and watch aliens fuck.
"Oh fuck, wait," she puts a hand on my arm while counting in her head, "sixteen."
"What?"
"I forgot some."
"Ten."
"Yeah. Ten."
"One would be easy to forget, how do you forget ten?"
"Shut up arsehole. I just forgot. It was kind of a fuck up anyway."
"Do tell."
"I'm not sure I want to now you judgemental misogynist."
I look at her beside me and she's intent on the aliens fucking and I can't read her face. I raise an eyebrow and she continues.
"You know how I said I had my ears done and then my braces... I was in university by then. One of my girlfriends, Donna, took me to a salon one summer holiday. She said if I was going to hang out on the beach with her all summer that I had to look good. They did my hair and waxed my eyebrows, showed me how to apply make up properly and we shopped for summer clothes. By the end of the day, it was like one of those before and after things. When I went home, Mum cried and hugged me. Dad read me the rights on boys and dating and curfew hours and you can imagine anyway..."
She sips her wine and gathers thoughts.
"That summer we spent every day at the beach. I had a boyfriend at the time but he was at summer school, catching up some units. We met up on weekends. All my old school friends were at the beach those holidays. "Oh you look so different" "Oh your teeth are great" "Do you remember when we called you blah blah blah" They just wouldn't shut up about it and you know - it was still bullying. They didn't want to let me out of that box they had me in. They didn't like me being their equal. I also saw their boyfriends started noticing me."
"Hold that thought darlin... I gotta use the little boys room."
She had been rambling on automatic and watching television at the same time. My bladder told me it was time to interrupt. When I returned she put her glass down and faced me. "Sorry, I was giving you the girl version. Anyway, I was pissed off at them all. I noticed their boyfriends all paying me attention now. I played up to it -- you know what I'm like. I got them to rub lotion on, adjust my straps, I sat on laps and flirted -- it was great fun. Then one night we had this big campfire on the beach. Everyone was drinking and there was music. Boys were asking me to dance. Girls I knew from school were jealous and it was awesome."
She looks at me thought fully for a few seconds then continues. "Donna and I were dancing later; there were three or four boys with us. Donna leaned in close and said, "We should do a gang bang". I asked her what that was and she said, "Well, we're out of drinks so we get one of the boys to let us use his panelvan and the guys bring us drinks all night and all we have to do is let them fuck us. Come on it will be fun. You're so hot now, they'll all want you." I wasn't sure but Donna said, "They have to wear condoms, so it doesn't even really count as a fuck. Come on, your my best friend, I don't want to do it on my own." I was nervous but I thought if I wanted in to be in their world I better dive in."
"Fuck..." I'm hard as a rock. There's no hiding how I feel about her story. She notices too...
"Well he likes my story." Leaning forward she gives me a trite kiss on the knob. "I'll take that as a cue to continue unless you are uncomfortable listening?"
"You joking? Go on, it's hot as fuck."
"I thought you'd like parts of this story you pervert. So anyway, Donna talks to one of the guys and he nods and before you know it we are sitting in the back of a panelvan in the parking lot drinking beers and talking to two boys. It starts very mechanically, Donna says, "You've got to fuck him now. Lie down and take off your panties." She actually said 'panties' I fucken hate that word. Anyway I was nervous but this was my way in, so I did as I was told. The boy climbed on top and stuck his little dick in me. He bumped against me a few times and pulled out and said, 'Thanks Jenny' and handed Donna a used condom."
"I was curious about the condom but before I could ask, the other boy was having his turn and he kept going and going. Donna said, "You gotta moan or something so he doesn't think you're a dead root." I made the noises I'd heard in porn movies and soon enough he got off me and handed over a condom. More boys brought beers, we drank and laughed, I fucked them, and they just kept coming. No pun intended. I was getting sore. My vagina burned from the condoms and they were a bit rough you know but I kept going because I thought. Well. I thought..."
"Fuck. Jen, you don't have to keep going darl. I get it." I rub her shoulder and she is crying again. So much for date night and mischief.
"I want you to know this about me if you can handle it."
"I can hear it."
"I had my first orgasm from vaginal sex that night. I'd only had two boyfriends before that night so I was pretty inexperienced. It was far more mechanical than enjoyable. After a couple of hours they stopped coming to the panelvan. I was sore, emotional and half-drunk and asked Donna, "What now?" She said "Nothing, that's it I guess. Let's go back." I wobbled back to the beach with her. My legs were shaky but my face was smiling thinking I'd just be one of the crowd now."
"It was horrible. The girls called me names, 'slut', 'beer whore', the boys mimicked fuck noises. "She's a howler. Arrooo..arrooo." I cried. Donna handed one of the girls, Susan, the condoms and she counted them. "Ten! You fucking slut." They tied them in a necklace and hung them around my neck. Donna had been part of the set up all along. I saw her again throughout uni years but we were done as friends."
"Fuck..."
"I walked home from the beach and put myself back together along the way. You know the truth of it was they were jealous. I'd become a threat to them and they wanted to knock me back down. They thought they could humiliate me but it backfired on them. They'd just shown me I was the one with the power. For the rest of that year any time they gave me shit I flirted with their boyfriends and reminded them I could take their boyfriend any time I wanted."
"..." I get the feeling I'm supposed to say something but I don't know what it is. "So?"
"Well I don't know, that's quite a story."
"Does it count as a layer?"
"Sure. I guess it explains some stuff, but, fuck it, it's just hot as fuck thinking of you letting all those men fuck you. Do you ever consider it now? You know when you are showing off. Let them touch you, maybe fuck you?"
"Well yeah, but you know, I got you. Don't want to lose a good thing for a fun time."
"Hmmm. I seem to be out of clothes to give you."
"So maybe these?" She takes nipple clamps out of the tool box and dangles them.
"And you can kiss her better." She looks down at her crotch. "I feel sore again just thinking about it."
I take the nipple clamps she's holding and moving over her I lick her left nipple. I slurp it like a popsicle, letting the rough of my tongue make it hard. I grab it between my teeth and gnaw it before pinching it between my fingers and putting the clamp on. I do the same on the other side. Her hips buck wildly at me, thrusting involuntarily with each tug on the chain that links the clamps.
I push her back on the couch and trail nips and licks up first one thigh then the other. Stopping just short of her pussy, I blow warm air on her wet lips and run just the tip of my tongue up the slit of her, gently parting her lips. Flicking her clit with my tongue, I start again, a long slow lick from bottom to top until my saliva mixes with her arousal and my face is slick with the musky mess of it all.
She grinds against my nose and chin while I lap at her hole, sticking my tongue in and out. Replacing it with two fingers, I turn my tongue to her clit and firmly probe around it. My fingers work back and forward on the roof of her vagina and she grabs my hair roughly, as I find 'her spot', the bit that tips her over. She's thrusting roughly on my face and growling want at me, then suddenly, "Stop!" "Stop... God. Not just yet."
With fingers on my chin, she raises my face to hers and kisses me deeply making her face wet with her own juices and she sucks on my tongue. "God, you're good at that. You know me too well."
"Eighty plus."
"What?"
"My number."
"You fucking whore boy!"
I pour more wine.
"You're making that up to make me feel better."
"I wish I was."
"Eighty plus... They reckon most men double their number." She chews the idea of it in her mind. "Was that when you were in the army?"
"Yeah. We were horny little motherfuckers with nothing to spend our money on except going into town and partying. Didn't have a steady girlfriend, just a new girl every weekend. In any case, it was kind of hollow, like having a wank using some chick's pussy instead of my hand."
"Oh you poor boy..." The sarcasm drips from pouting lips.
"Well hell, it was fun at the time but what I really wanted was some sort of intimacy."
"Sounds like I have some catching up to do. Six versus Eighty-six."
"Sixteen... If I knew we were going 'even stevens', I probably would have slowed down but I didn't even know you back then."
"Man whore."
"Slut guts."
"Fuck toy."
"Turtle."
"What? Turtle?"
"Yeah." I mime lying on my back waving my legs and arms like I can't get up. She bursts into fits of those fairy giggles she does and collapses onto my bare chest.