Think I Want to Twist the Plot This Time

Part 4

"Oh, shit—" Oppenheimer grips to the back of her head harder, the first time he has since she started, and as she's halfway down again he twitches, but this time it's hot, and she's tasting more of him than expected.

Oh. Oh. Barbie pulls herself off after a moment, and then what is she really supposed to do? The taste is just... weird, and kind of salty, and is it rude if she doesn't swallow? Much as she enjoyed the act itself, she's not sure if she likes this part of it. But it's just lingering there, and she needs to make a decision.

He takes a moment to compose himself, finally letting her hair go, and when he notices her unease, he brings the back of that hand up to his mouth. Oh God, he's holding back a chuckle. She probably just ruined the moment, didn't she?

"I believe there's mouthwash in the cabinet behind the mirror," he says behind his laugh, his tone completely amused. Great.

And of course, all she can do is nod. Barbie tries not to look like she's running back into the bathroom, but she might as well be with her long strides. She doesn't even look at herself in the mirror before she runs the water and spits. Eugh, that's not a pleasant sight, either.

Barbie swishes some water around in her mouth to rinse out, and hopes she's not making some weird scene, or acting too over dramatic. As Oppenheimer said, she looks in the cabinet, and sure enough, the hotel is nice enough to supply some mouthwash to its guests. She takes a quick gulp, glad for its minty reprieve.

"That bad?" he calls from the bedroom, and again, he sounds like he finds the whole situation funny above anything else. But her mouth is full again, so she can't answer.

"No—sorry," she calls back after turning off the sink. When she puts the mouthwash back, Barbie notices a hairbrush, and decides to take advantage of detangling some of these knots. It looks like one of those hairbrushes from an old movie or ad, with its silver, intricate plating and hundreds and hundreds of soft bristles—nothing like her simple, pink Wet brush back home. "I'm just... not really used to it?"

Well, at least she thinks she looks a little more put together, because the thing about brushes like this is that they take so much longer to really get to the root of her tangles, and Barbie wants to just get back out there. But she still takes that moment to look at herself in the mirror again, reflect.

Her cheeks are flushed, probably from a little embarrassment and excitement. Her lips, a little more raw than usual and looking a little plumper. With each new act it's like she's shedding whatever artifice she started the night off with, from her pink makeup and heels to this transformative woman in some pure, debauched, human state.

But some of those marks on her body are starting to fade, and she hopes she can change that before the night is over.

Barbie tucks some hair behind her ear as she emerges, just so her hands have something to do with some more of that nervous energy. Oppenheimer's up, a little to her surprise, just standing before the nightstand with yet another cigarette in his mouth, but he hasn't gotten it lit as he's fidgeting with the matchbook. And not that she's seen very many backsides in her short time as a human, but she rather likes his.

But maybe she shouldn't really be objectifying people.

"I'm sorry, again," she says, approaching him with cautious steps.

He turns to her, setting both the cigarette and matchbook on the nightstand. "You have nothing to apologize for," he assures, reaching up to cup her jaw, and she sighs into it, immediately relaxing. "If anything, I apologize for not giving you a proper warning."

"Welp, looks like you fumbled a little bit in that challenge to teach me," Barbie jokes back, leaning into him. "I bet you've never failed anything before in your life, have you?"