Author's Note: Amandla Stenberg identifies as non-binary and uses she/they pronouns. One day I hope it gets to the stage where this kind of note doesn't have to be made.
Taylor stands with one hand holding the elbow of the other, propping it up so that her wineglass sits resting against her clavicle. She watches me absentmindedly as someone, he looks familiar but I can't remember the name, talks to her. From my place at the grazing table, I can just about see everyone at the party. We're all spread between the pool, pool decking and 'pool shed', the grandeur of which outranks most kitchen/dining rooms I've seen. It's basically the size of a small church and fitted out with a polished marble kitchen, white tiles and windows acting as walls.
Begrudgedly, I brought my backpack. I can't afford to drop off the radar and lose business, I need to keep my name on the tip of everyone's tongues - quite literally. As soon as I arrived, Taylor was whisked away from me and people begun to approach, cash in hand to do a swap. It's odd, but I felt comfortable slipping back into the swing of it despite how closely related death is to my profession. The feeling of the glossy plastic being replaced by the rasp of a grainy note excites the part of my brain that still thinks that I need to do it. I suppose I do, my saving is due a top up.
Someone japes a finger into my ribs, the shock of it flips a prawn from my plate and into the punch, and I flick my head around to see the culprit laughing at their destruction. I smile with her, fishing out the crustacean from it's dip in the alcohol.
"It's just you, birthday girl," I sigh, flinging the drenched prawn back onto my plate.
Ella smiles at me, her pupils the size of 5 cents coins. Her summer dress falls off her slack shoulders and she radiates the epitome of youth and relaxation. Slowly, she reaches up to my face and presses her palm to my cheek. "Where have you been?" her voice floats out to me.
She is a vision. A dream. When I look into her eyes I feel the heavy weight of living cascade off me, she has this effect on me where I forget there are other people in the world. But I don't rely on her like I do other, I wouldn't tell her outright what's been happening, even if she were sober I wouldn't, it's just not like that with us. With Saorise, and Taylor and even Jodie I guess, it's different. Ella is who I call when I want to talk about the world, but I wouldn't want to tell her about my involvement inside of the world. I get this micro of a feeling that she'd react either selfishly or too caring, and I don't want to even allow the chance of getting the ick with her.
I smile at her. "Around." I turn my face away from her palm and continue collecting food. "I thought you said you'd have cheesecake?" I ponder aloud whilst scanning for it.
"No. I decided... no." She's turned her gaze out to the pool, I follow her gaze. "You're quiet."
"Am I not usually?" I ask, questioning if maybe I am more rambunctious than usual. A puncture lung might do that to you.
"Where's... you were bringing a girl?"
She means Jodie. "Couldn't make it."
She turns to me, smile fixed back in place. "You are one of the best people I've ever met." And then she flits off out onto the deck where people celebrateher presence with whoops and woos.
I stare off after her, wanting to tell her to 'shut up' in a fond kind of way. No one has ever said something like that to me. I don't believe it for a second, but it's nice to think that Lorde, albeit high, thinks that I'm one of the best.
I repeat her words to myself as I wander over to a secluded corner and begin eating on a winged armchair beneath standing lamp. I must look like a feature in the corner, an odd show piece Ella has hired for her party. With my backpack sitting at my feet, I know the traffic will become heavy when word gets about and sure enough, within moments, my plate rests on my lap while I deal.
An hour passes sluggishly, I've done everything I need to do and more than half of the party's population has called me a visit. I sit in the chair, eyes threatening to fall as the bass of the music twangs my ears. The clothing of everyone blurs as I peep out through eyes that are determined to sleep, the partiers look like smudged dots of paint on a black background. One of the dots draws close to me, I pull myself back to the land of wake and watch disoriented as the figure falls with a sigh into the chair beside me.
"Hi," they say, their head lolling against the back of the chair and coming to a rest collapsed on the side of their neck closest to me.
"Hi," I yawn, straightening my posture then leaning over to rest my elbows on my knees. I yawn again, staring down at the floor that swims in the tears produced by the yawn.
"I'm Amandla," Amandla says and reaches over with their hand outstretched.
I look across at her and smile before taking her hand. "Alex."
"You need to do some dancing, it'll wake you up!"
I laugh. "I can't... injury."
Their eyebrows furrow in concern. "Bad?"
"Nar," I lie.
She relaxes back into the chair, their eyes bore into mine and I look elsewhere to escape them. I'm not in the mood to flirt, it's past my 'new' bedtime and I want to crawl into bed. I scan the crowd outside for Taylor, her blonde hair peaks out from the pool, a volleyball clasped in her grip and grin on her face. It'll still be hours before we leave. I could go into the house and find a room, but I feel petrified at the thought of being alone where someone can grab me. I could also call Tony, although I don't have his number and trying to get it out of a drunk Taylor would take hours.
"How do you know Ella?" Amandla asks, I turn back to them and they haven't moved, she's been watching me the whole time.
"At a party." Where she convinced me to trip on the acid I had just supplied her - a time before I moved into making and selling exclusively MDMA - and we made out for a bit. "You?"
They waves their hand around, how does one meet anyone kind of expression.
"Did you..." I begin, trying to gauge the reason of their interaction with me, "did you want something?"
"Ah, no?" they say slowly, looking at me with intrigue.
"Shit! Sorry, no, not like that," I backpedal, quickly releasing what it sounds like. "I mean I'm happy you're here, I meant... well... never mind."
She smiles and kicks a foot into my backpack. "I know who you are, you're very well known."
"Oh," I smile. I look back to where I saw Taylor, she's gone. I sigh and stand, pain tugs at my abdomen, the hour long walk stretches ahead menacingly. "I'm gonna head home now. It's nice to meet you, Amandla."
"Can I come with you?" they asks confidently.
The chutzpah to be so forward makes me smile and chuckle a little. I shrug. "Of course, we're walking though, is that ok?"
They're a very relaxed person. Doesn't get excited, or nervous, the tone never changes. As we walk along the pavement beneath the glowing streetlights, cutting through residential streets to stay off main roads, we don't really talk much, but it's a comforting silence and just having them there keeps me awake and stops the gnawing anxiety from ripping me apart. I'm glad to have their company, I feel safety in numbers which is stupid because of know Michael and his people don't care if they hurt one person or two, but the fact that Amandla is a celebrity provides me with comfort that if something does happen it'll be investigated down to the last hair.
"Where abouts do you actually live?" they ask.
"Ahh." I stop, remembering with a shattering jolt - my apartment is trashed. My mouth dries at the thought of walking up those stairs and opening the door to see my whole life lying spread and broken across the carpet, especially having to witness it with a stranger. "Shit, I just remembered my house was fumigated today, I'm staying all the way out in Beaumont," I lie.
They smile. "That's ok! Would you like to come back to mine? I'm only around the corner."
I stare at her for a moment, the tension is thick and I will myself to reply but the shock of my apartment being in tatters has hit me all over again. "Sure," I answer, stumbling to get it out quickly.
She places a hand on my arm. "Are you sure, sure?" they search my eyes, and I smile.
"Yeah, yeah, just..." I'm so tired that my brain has to pause to commute everything but these pauses seem like I'm trying to work out how to say no.
"Forget it," they says, no bitterness in their tone.
"No!" I rush, grabbing their arm. "I'm so fucking tired, I'm sorry, I really am just so tired."
"We don't have to do anything."
"I want to." I lean in and kiss her.
Their place really is 'around the corner'. It's a bungalow with a jungle garden hiding it from the street. The weatherboards are painted white and all the windows have shutters on them, it's ultra trendy and all I can think about is how easy it would be for Michael to break in.
As soon as Amandla opens the front door, the smell of pot nestles into my nose. They turn their back to me and throws their keys into a bowl as I pull my backpack off my shoulders and discreetly hide it behind a couple of washing baskets.
"It's nice," I comment.
Amandla turns back to me and smiles. "I like it." They move slowly over to me, I smile as they place their lips on mine, their hands framing my face. Tiredness is sapped from my body as an electric current runs along the length of my circulation system, coming to rest between my legs. They push me back into the wall and continue to kiss me deeply, I let them take over, directing my lips wherever. I snake a hand down into their pants, the band of their jeans and knickers pressing into my forearm as I begin to circle their clit. Softly, I massage my middle and pointer finger over the moistening bulge, as I fall into a preferred rhythm, the grip on my head gets tighter and they begin to kiss me more passionately. I remove my hand from their pants and trail it up to where we stand connected by the lips, I pull away from them and place my fingers in their warm mouth. I can feel their tongue slid over them, cleaning off their own residue and I as I watch them suck, I can feel my own orgasm building.
They pout my fingers out of their mouth with a pop and lead me down the hallway and into what I presume is their bedroom. They push me back onto the bed, I prop myself up on my elbows and watch as Amandla fossicks around in the wardrobe.
"I'll put some music on," they say, abandoning the wardrobe task and pulling their phone out of their their back pocket. "Any suggestions?"
"Put on Khruangbin."
Their eyes lit up and they smile at me. "They're good."
A speaker somewhere need my head fills the room with a heavy bass line and oriental guitar. Amandla returns to the wardrobe and I unbutton my pants, pulling them off my legs. I start to circle my own clit, my legs up in the shape on an inverted V causing my heels burn from the friction of the contact with the bed sheet. With one hand, I rapidly circle my clit and with the other, I enter myself with two fingers. The angle my body - all collapsed on itself - stresses my injuries but the pleasure is so immense, I keep going, a slight moan escaping my lips. Amandla looks over.
"That's so hot." In their hand is a strapon, it's harness hanging limply as they hold it by the shaft. "Is it all good to use this?"
I nod, unable to talk because I know the breathless tone that'd escape my lips would be pathetic. They pull their clothes off languidly, watching me as I masturbate. When they're naked, they step into the harness, the strap on stands erect out in front of them, a prominent feature incongruous with their toned and prefect form. They spit in their hand and wipe it along the shaft before crouching down and taking me inside their mouth. I move my hands from my myself and into their hair, pushing them into me as I wait restlessly for my orgasm. They lick along my labia, teasing me, before landing on the clit and sucking. I can feel my pussy throb in time with my heart beat, and just as I'm about to climax, they move off my clit and kiss along my public bone and up my stomach, pushing my shirt up as they move further upwards. When they see the bruise that is now faded to the colour of a tea stain, they stop.
"What happened?"
It takes me out of the moment and I have to work out what they're talking about before I reply. "Oh, nothing. Soccer."
They continue to push up my shirt and kiss my body until they lie pressed against me and I can feel the hard strap on against the inside of my thigh. I can feel Amandla's hand stroke it, up and down, as though lubricating it and I kiss them, biting down in impatience. They get the message, and slowly, they begin to enter me, beginning with just the tip. I moan into their open mouth, I feel them smile.
"Don't tease me," I breathe.
They laugh and push further into me, I cry out in ecstasy and grasp their body closer to mine. Having the weight of another human pressed against me creates a spearing pain that stabs when I breathe and I push them off me so they have to plank above me while pumping me. They pick up pace, kissing the crook of my neck as the strap on drags in and out of me in quick succession. I feel my vagina tighten and I place Amandla's nipple in my mouth and suck hard, trying to distract myself from the building orgasm. I can't take it anymore and I buck my hips and cry out as relief pulses through my body. Panting, I push Amandla to the side and, being careful of my frail body, roll over to sit on top of them. I lean down and kiss them, a hand on their breast pulling at the nipple. They moan softly in my mouth and I pull harder. I feel their hand moving back to the strap on and they begin to guide it back to my vagina, I break away from their lips.
"I can't really top," I say breathlessly and point to the bruise, "it still kinda hurts."
"That's ok," they reply equally as breathless.
"But I can do this." I slither my body down so I lie between their legs. I undo the harness of the strap on and pull it off them, then I go down on her. I start at the entry of her vagina and lick away all her wetness, then I move to the clit. It takes less than a minute before she lets out a small squeal, and I rest my head on the inside of her thigh, trying to catch my breath.
We both orgasmed another two times that night and then fell asleep. It was hot in the bungalow and as soon as Amandla fell asleep, I ventured out to find the bathroom. Once there, I had a cold shower, washing the recent sweat out of my hair, catching the saltiness of it in my mouth and scrubbing my body. I return to the bed and lay down beside them, they reach a hand out to my cold skin and remain asleep, I follow their lead.