⚠️ lame, potentially offensive jokes all along ! ⚠️
'Your wishes, your ambitions, your dream job... Tori, you know you can't go back to a place where they want to take everything away from you'. Bessie chimes in, rolling in bed right next to me, and poking my cheek in the hope she's gonna cheer me up a bit. But my eyes, tearful and stingy already, can barely hold back the tears, after her words. And I cry, uncontrollably so, when I reckon that, after all, Bessie isn't totally wrong. And she's extra empathetic and smart, because the average white, privileged person from the US would never be able to understand the way I'm feeling inside right now. But she is thoughtful and caring, and I appreciate her a lot because she's daring to understand.
Here at these latitudes, people take pace and freedom for granted. In my country, beautiful but occupied by evil people, you aren't allowed to have wishes of your own, projects for the future, ambitions or anything. You aren't even allowed to have a life and basic human rights... you just fear that someone's gonna break into your house, steal it, tear it down and either break your jaw, or flat out kill you. I am young, a little bit of a dreamer, a little bit of a romantic and a little bit of a daredevil, and I don't want to live the rest of my life in vulnerability and fear. I just want peace, happiness and all the normal things from this life, like locking my door at night, and knowing I'm gonna sleep safely, for instance. Or like being able to go to the University without having to go through three different checkpoints and barb wired fences, risking to be shot and/or spat on and/or clotheslined on the floor by colonisers at any given time. All of the above things have happened to me, at some point, on multiple occasions, but my self determination wasn't affected once. Hurt and mistreated and dehumanised by a bunch of pricks ruled by sense of entitlement alone, I'm still Victoria the Palestinian girl, proud, set in her ways, and with a pocketful of ambitions and a good heart to herself. And here I am, in the vest of an exchange student in the US, cultivating my ambitions miles away from home, and hoping that things will work out for me in this life. I want to become a pupper doctor, and I'm studying hard to make that happen ! I want to become a professional sprinter, and I'm training hard and running fast to make that happen, too ! I will have to go back home to have these two dreams and many other dreams of mine shattered... but what can I do, if home is where the revolution is?
'You're mine and Chrissie's best friend ... you have a guy who loves you ... you can't leave us, and most importantly you can't give up on your dreams'. Bessie speaks, reminding me that there's other stuff to worry about, besides the revolution... and that it's inner peace. With a little bit of wholesome selfishness here and there, because I apparently have all right to claim some. Being in a place that feels like home but that isn't home, surrounded by people who genuinely love me, care for me and support my dreams and ambitions seems pretty fucking amazing to someone with a hard life back home like me. Here in the US, I'd be having everything a hundred times more easily than in Palestine, and that's for sure. I'd get my dream job straight after finishing University, because vet nurses are in high demand ! There are even track and field circuits in this country, you don't have to run in your backyard through lanes drawn on the floor with chalk. I'd be safe, sound and very loved, here ! I'd always be with my girls! I wouldn't have to worry about having to say goodbye forever to them, and to the guy I love and could easily see myself with for a long, long time.
Oh, my beloved Sean. He loves me, I love him, a lot... but sometimes the fear of separation overrides the joy of loving and being loved back. I sometimes can't look at him in the eyes without feeling the buildup of the biggest heartbreak of my life... and without feeling a little too guilty for the way I'm handling him. Because, too scared of his reaction, I'm choosing to deliberately have secrets with him. He doesn't know where I'm from and what my life back home is like, mostly because I don't want another pitiful reaction à la Ben Shepherd. He doesn't even know that I'm gonna head back home in a few months from now. And I would like to tell him the truth as it is, but I... I just can't. Because I love him, and I'm pretty sure he'd crack all shits and leave, if I opened up. Or he'd handle it à la Ben, he'd ask me to marry him for the sake of pulling me out of the West Bank... and I would never say yes. For as much as I love him, I'd have the same reaction I had when Ben told me he wanted to marry me: I'd say no, I'd lock myself in the toilet, and I'd escape the condo by swinging from the rafters... before crash landing on a bush, and riding through the night on my Bonneville. What a Palestinian way to handle shit!
Bessie and Chrissie are my Seattleite idea of family, they're the sisters I've never had the pleasure to have from my parents, and Sean makes me feel like I'm swinging on my backyard swing while my mom is cooking delish smelling shawarma for dinner... which means, cozily at home. But I have a home, miraculously intact, ten minutes outside of Bethlehem. I have a family, a family in which I'm the daughter, and my parents are in no man's land while I do the ambitious idiot and catch irresponsible feelings for white guys abroad. I love Bessie, I love Chrissie, I love Sean, I love all of my friends here in the US, and the sole thought that I will have to bid them forever farewell and enter no man's land all over again feels like a gaping wound to me. But home, for me, is where mama and papa Khair's hearts are. Home is where there's a battle to be fought. The rest is just wistful thinking. Wannabe westerner shit that never belonged to my mindset. I am Palestinian ... very hearty, very brave, very pragmatic! Very much of a member of the resistance and a real life, unarmed trooper! And unless my mom and my dad want to do the wannabe westerners with me for the rest of their lives and move to the US, I won't let my friends and my 'boyfriend' shelter me to make me stay in this country after the expiration date of my visa. That's the definition of a refugee... and man, I don't wanna be that. I'd rather die in my homeland than live as a refugee on someone else's. And this is the reason why the Khair family stint in Syria only lasted a little under two years: mom, dad and I couldn't stay away from the place we call home for any longer than that.
'You beautiful soul! I love you so much... you and Chrissie are the bestest friends in the world!' I chime in, wiping a few tears off my cheeks, turning to Bessie's side, and pulling her into a tight hug. My mind is still chaos, I still don't know what the hell I'm gonna do with my life from this moment on... but all I know, is that I'm grateful to have friends who would do everything they can to know that I'm safe and that life's treating me right. I will think about Bessie's words, she had her heart legit in hand when she told me she cares about me, and that she doesn't think I could ever have the life I deserve, in my native. I know it, I agree with her, but I can't promise her that I won't head back there, at the end of my permanence in the US. I will miss all of my good souled, crazy crazy Seattleite friends, I don't know if I will be able to cope without them... but what can I do, if I'm attached to my homeland like a baby is to the mother's womb? I am here in Denver, laying in bed with my very haram best friend, while the idiots whose band we're on the road with are raising hell at the pool... and I'm thinking that I can't wait until it's time to head back home for New Year's. But not in a melancholic way, surprisingly enough ! Mom told me that Bessie and Sean (and Sean's parents, bless her) can come along with me ... and yeah, I think I'll ask them if they're feeling it ! And I will extend my invitation to Chrissie, Chris... and STONE!
'Ummmm... you too have one story and a half to tell me! Did you call your habibi... I mean, Stone? Please say yes!' I speak, changing the topic being discussed because I'm feeling a hundred times better with my head now. I'm feeling almost at peace with myself, and I celebrate my much deserved mood fix by resuming the Seattle Gossip Committee session of not so long ago, and by treating myself to some marijuana. Sean left a joint unattended on my bedside table, and I think he wouldn't mind it if I smoked it... and shared it with my best friend while talking about her Pearl Jam habibi ! I place the joint between my lips, I light it, I inhale a deep breath of green, then I pass it on to Bess ... and man, when I see the sprinkle in her eyes after I've mentioned Stone, I don't regret having made myself Gerry's enemy number one, at all.
And yeah, I think the guys will have to wait for us at the pool for a little longer... we're finally about to talk about serious stuff here! I want all the Bess x Stone tea, and possibly, I want to get all caught up with it away enough from Gerry's fuming ears !
'You little warrior ... I can see the spark back in you eyes'. Bessie comments, messing up my hair in a playful manner, before taking a deep draw of smoke from my joint. Which is Sean's, but these days, you can barely draw the line between Tori stuff and Sean stuff. Bessie can see that I'm legit again, she's acknowledging me as a little warrior, something that I am in all life situations... and I can't help but giggle with amusement, and pull her into yet another tight hug.
'Ooooh, I can see the spark in yours too! Tell me more!' I chuckle, giving Bessie as good as I got from her, admiring her heart shaped, blue eyes as we are about to talk about her handsome looking, well spoken, decent and smart mr. Gossard. I poke her cheek and I lay my smiling face over her shoulder, politely yet cheekily asking her to stir all of the tea, because I'm getting a little bit impatient here. I am Stone and Bessie's biggest fan, I've been trying to set them up since the night of the party at Cuntrell 's place, and I will never stop pushing her into his arms because she deserves a guy like him! The memory of the way he was looking at her that night, beer gripped tight in his hand, lives rent free in my mind to this day. Together with the memory of the few things about Bess that he told to Sean and I, when we took a break from kissing and rubbing in private, and sat on the couch with him for a little.
Yes, Sean and I did the teasing idiots with Stone, instead of having actual sex, and I loved every second of our not very horny quirkiness of that night. My hunk and I are people of priorities and teasing ways... and honestly, I am not surprised that Cuntrell is on a full hate spree against us. It's all Stone's fault, if Gerry calls me fat, ugly, dumb, and either 'bay-root' or 'bag-dad'. It's all Stone's fault, if Sean can't turn for a second, that Gerry makes the most out of it, and talks shit about him behind his back. Most of the times Gerry comes to me, and he tells me the 'nastiest' things on Sean's account, to ruin our moment and to make me stop wanting and romanticising him. Yes, he's kinda evil, but his Sean exposès are weak as hell, they don't work that much with me, and that's why he always goes back to insulting me.
I sometimes wonder if Gerry has a life outside of being a cunt and hunting for some new cunt to keep his every new day interesting... but at this point, I'm getting accustomed with his ways, and I couldn't give any less fucks about him. He's exposing himself for what he is, a cunt, and I reckon it's pushing Bessie even further from him. Stone all the way! All heil mr. Gossard ! I'll scream this from the top of my lungs, for everyone to hear including Gerry ... even if it's gonna get me called fat and Iraqi again! At the end of the day, I'm kinda slim, I'm Palestinian, and I love the Iraqi Arabic accent !
'I called him ... and we had phone sex again. It was amazing... even better than the other time'. Bessie admits, and I almost choke and burn my hands on my joint at her revelation. Not only my best friend has called her habibi, she's also had phone sex with him, again, this time was even better than the previous time... and I think I couldn't be any happier for her ! I am so happy to see Bessie and Stone's romance blossom, and I'm so happy to see that they're getting all the good vibes from eachother, including the naughty ones. We are all adults here, and we know that there can't be any romance, if the air don't smell like sex at some point!
I have a theory ! If you don't wanna finger yourself while on the phone with a man you like, trust me, you probably don't have sex chemistry with him, and you better move on to the next prey. I'm speaking from my direct, firsthand experience with Sean here... and when I say firsthand, I mean that my hand was between my legs, and I was touching myself avidly on the phone with him, while he was in Texas and I was in Seattle. The night before I headed to Oakland to catch up with him. He was explaining me the difference between sex and the assembly line, and he was calling me a naughty, small small girl, too small to have rough sex, in order to keep me going. It kept me going. It kept him going. We got ourselves off real nice, and we talked over the phone until he was the first one to fall asleep. Ooooh, the memories.
Oh, the hype ! Because my best friend is going through my same path, with her hunk of choice, and it legit gives me hope that her and Stone will one of these days fall head over heels in love like Sean and I did! And don't ask me why, but my female sixth sense, the one that's never wrong or in vain, tells me that Stone is very good at getting a lady off. With his words, but also with other things of his own! Slay Bess, what a catch! Help! I'm starting to think that Bessie and I have a type ... decent, persistent, respectfully horny man with a way with words!
'All romances start with a booty call! Trust me sis!' I chuckle, now openly throwing it back to my sexy phone call with Sean that Bessie knows about in full detail. Y'know, hoping that my experience on the field gives her reasons to believe that her and Stone will go from phone sex to loving, actual sex like Sean and I did! They had phone sex twice, they're gonna do it a few more times until they'll catch up in Seattle, I know it, and I love it for them. It's a good auspice kinda thing, their vibe is immaculate, and I hope that they can light eachother's flame until they meet up and try to find out if they're eachother's person... but I'm pretty fucking sure that they are, and that they'll own this !
'Like you and Sham? I want exactly what you guys are on'. Bessie comments, pulling a mama Khair out of nowhere, taking a draw of smoke from my joint, and passing it over to me when she's done. I inhale some green goodness myself, I puff it off my nose, and I laugh at her words like the idiot that I am. Sham, like my mom would call him because she's sure that Sean's name is Sham and he's Syrian, and I have been on a number of substances, that's for sure, but we've also come a long way together ! It was more like a short way and a smooth ride, because we knew we had a connection since the very first time our gazes locked ... and the events of the last few days were just the natural evolution of something that was there all along: loads of attraction, chemistry, and mutual attraction of all kinds.
I fell in love with him at first sight, but when I got on the road for him, I had no hope he would've someday ended up reciprocating my feelings. I thought we would've become best friends, or friends with benefits at most. And look at us now! I mean, look at me, because he's so good at doing the unbothered guy boss that you wouldn't be able to tell that he's in love ! But he's in love! With me, out of all the people in the world ! I love him twice as much as he loves me ! And we are the cutest couple of idiots ever ... we are couple goals, at least to Bess... except we aren't a couple to even begin with !
'Falafel, fellatio... and shawarma!' I answer, keeping the tone of the conversation humorous and clowny just because I reckon it's Bessie's habibi we're talking about, not mine... and because I reckon I've given Bessie enough of my crap, by getting all weak and tearful over my homesickness. A part of me would like to tell her that Sean and I talked feelings, that I told him I love him, he told me he loves me, multiple times ... but he didn't ask me if I wanna be his girlfriend. He didn't even give away hints that he wants me to be that, and I don't know how to feel about it. And not having enough experience or dexterity with men, because I've fucked four and boyfriended two of them all of my life (such GROUPIE FIGURES, wow!) I don't know what's that mean. Does it mean that we're taking things gradually? Or does this mean that he has no interest in putting a label on me?
This is very confusing, in a very Sean way. Guy told me he loves me, straight to my face with a straight face on. He said that loving me is a funny but beautiful feeling. He said that loving me is so fucking easy. He said that I'm the only good thing that's happened to him in a while. And I am hundred percent sure he was being honest with me, all along. So, if he meant all of what he said, why didn't he do the normal wannabe boyfriend, grabbed my hand and asked me if I wanted to be his girlfriend? Definitely not out of fear of rejection... because I would've said a hundred times yes, and we both know it. And probably that's where the problem lays.
Fuck. A part of me would like to bring this up to Bess to hear her take on it. Bess is never wrong, so the temptation to ask her for reassurance is naturally strong. But then I remember that only Sean knows the way he feels for me, other people's takes are subjective and not always accurate... and I reckon that if I wanna shed some light on why he missed his golden opportunity to ask me if I wanted to be his sweetheart, he's the one I will have to ask questions to. And I will. Perhaps after this afternoon's dipping session that still hasn't began, for Bessie and I.
'Bess, I think I saw Dave's BMW in the garage ...'. I chime in, totally out of the blue, making this exchange all about Bess, all over again. I don't know if it's just my mind playing me a fool whenever Sean is around, but I think I saw a bike that looks hundred percent like Abbruzzese's custom, very pretty, white BMW ride. Earlier this afternoon, when Sean and I headed back to the hotel, and left his own bike in the covered garage . It doesn't happen everyday, to see a custom built, white BMW around, and the last time I saw (and rode) one was when I went on a ride with mr. Abbruzzese, in what of Seattle, a few weeks ago. And oh yes, I also saw the very same bike the evening I got back home from of my movie sets, I wanted to shower, I opened the bathroom door, and found Bess and the man Dave fucking in our bathtub. I don't want to do the drama llama, but I think that mr. Abbruzzese is around ... and judging from the look on Bessie's face, a little bit conceited and a little bit smiley, I am brought to think I may be right. As always !
'Oh yeah, he was in my bed last night'. Bessie answers, upfront as usual, and the cheeky little grin on her lips grows just a little bit wider, when she lets me know that mr. Abbruzzese is here, and that he was in her bed last night. And when she says 'bed', she means bed, but she also means 'pussy'. I raise my eyebrows a bit, because, no judgment entailed, but I have no idea how my best friend is able to divide herself between fucking around with several guys, and trying to get to know better a man who could be the right one for her. At the same time. In that, Bessie and I differ a lot, and I cherish our differences.
I, Cherry, could never sleep around with a handful of guys, and try to grow romantic interest in a man at the same time. I would try to, out of recklessness and after too many drinks, but it'd fuck me up in the head if I did. I came here on the road for Alice in Chains knowing that I would've felt uneasy and super awkward, with my ex flame and my current flame thrown on the same concert card every night. I had a hundred different thoughts about Sean and Mike being in the same environment all the time, and at some point, my thoughts got so bad I considered the eventuality of staying at home to keep thing easy for the benefit of my mental health and reputation. But my Bessie can stay sane through something that'd he taboo for me, and still have fun. Lots of fun, and most of the times, in her terms. And honestly, I admire her a lot for that.
'With or without the BMW?' I joke, in my very usual way of staying lame until the gossip gets shoved in my face, because that's how the Tori works. I'm dying to know what Bessie and the drum man of Pearl Jam did, last night, and I'm sure that no BMW was involved. Something was ridden, something wobbled, a few gears were switched ...but it wasn't bike parts. It was body parts. Private ones. And I don't know a thing that's for sure, but I just feel like Dave came here just for the sake of seeing Bess. What would he be doing in ugly fucking Denver, otherwise? Don't ask me why, but I also feel like he fucked Bess good, super good, à la Dave 'Gentleman' Abbruzzese, and that he made sure she was the one to cum first ! Honestly, I don't know how Bess manages to split herself between multiple guys at a time, especially now that she knows there's a guy who admires and fancies her in a respectful way, back in Seattle, and she seems to have an interest in him too ...but as long as she doesn't fuck Gerry, it's all good in my book! Layne, Dave, I'll even condone Starr or Caballero of Sepultura. I'll even condone the road crew guy who keeps looking at her boobs like he's dyna suck them. But please, please not Gerry !
'With a ring ... he proposed to me, Tori'. Bessie speaks, grabbing my hand in hers, and looking as solemn as I think I've never seen her before. And I furrow my brows even more, because I don't know how she's managing to stay so chill while telling me that a man fucking proposed to her. I've been there before, with Ben, and when I told her and Chrissie about how I ran away from him and his impromptu proposal... I didn't have a single ounce of chill within myself. I just cried, screamed, cursed in a weird mix of English and Arabic, and I acted in and out like one of the characters from the Iraqi soap operas that my mom bloody loves to watch. I suppose this makes me a little bit of a Baghdad at heart, to say it à la Cuntrell, but does it even matter ? Hell no. At least not while what we're talking about is Dave's will to put a ring on my best friend's finger.
I like Dave, he's a class man with a beautiful heart and some gentlemanly ways to himself, I used to love him with Bess ... but now I ADORE Bess with another man! I don't like the Cuntrell-wise consequences of being the biggest Stone x Bess sponsor ever, but I won't stop trying to set them up! And I won't care about a pissy, jealous cunt calling me fat, ugly, dumb and a terrorist, just because I am a huuuuge romantic, and I naturally want what's best for my best friend !
'Fuuuuck! And did you say yes... or no...?' I mutter, when I realise that, in all of this, I still I have no clue if Bessie said yes or no to Dave's proposal. I am team no, because I'm team Stone, but if Bessie said yes, and if that makes her happy, who am I to say a thing? I am just a good friend, reasonable and supportive, and I will stick by her side no matter what... as long as I know she's loved and treated like the queen that she is ! And if she's going to get married to Dave, in a few moons from now, well... this means that the girls and I are gonna be busy for the next few months! Y'know, arranging a whole wedding, picking dresses for us bridesmaids, and for the bride herself ! Bessie is gonna be the prettiest bride ever, and Chrissie and I are gonna take care of the wedding planning like the two, attentive and tasteful ladies that we are ! Chrissie is Italian, I am Palestinian... name a better wedding planning duo! We're gonna make sure Bessie has the best buffet and the best wedding decor EVER!
'I could've never said yes. I love him, but not... that way'. Bessie answers, and I draw a deep sigh of relief when she lets me know that she turned down Dave's proposal... because she doesn't love him the same way he loves her, and saying yes wouldn't have been fair on him. And I oop! Been there, bought the t-shirt, for the same exact reason ! Bessie and I are so different on some aspects, yet so similar on some other ones ... and the fact that we don't wanna be wifed up and we just wanna vibe with whoever dude we're with at any given time makes us SO ALIKE ! That'd be time for a celebratory bestie drink... if Sean and I hadn't drank the minibar dry, and if room service had brought in the refills we asked for about one hour ago ! I don't know if Sean and I are on a Marriott Hotel booze ban because we drink too much and they're tryna put a damper on our drinking, but they're slow as fuck with the booze refills in this hotel, and it pisses me off! This means that Bessie and I will have to physically go get a celebratory drink at the hotel bar, before we join the guys at the pool of course! Would be about fucking time we did both things, huh ?
Indeed! Reason why I give my best friend a celebratory hug, and I only unwrap my arms from around her when I can feel her ribs almost breaking. But what can I do, I'm Arab and very, very much into rib breaking hugs ! Bessie and I exchange a smile and a knowing look, before we take a mandatory look in the mirror that signals our manifest intention to finally go join the guys at the pool. Because y'know, we gotta check up on us and see if we're appealing enough, before we step into the sight of a bunch of dirty Seattle rocker dudes. I could never be appealing enough to Gerry, I know he's dyna make comments on how my bikini is too small for someone as fat as me, but I give zero shits about his nagging of the future. I just bunch up my hair in a very curly bun, and I spray myself with some more rose water because one could never be good smelling enough ! And while I'm here, looking at my reflection in the mirror and not entirely despising what I'm seeing, even if I'm standing right next to the blonde bombshell herself, and comparison to her is never easy ... I hear a noise coming from the other side of my closed door, and my heart instantly goes Baghdad! I mean, my heart instantly goes boom !
'Mama ! Squawk!' My beautiful, feathered son speaks, and I rush to the door when I reckon that baby and baby daddy are here! Baby is squawking my name, mama, and baby daddy is laughing like the proud as heck parent that he is! And like the impatient non boyfriend boyfriend that he is, because I've had him waiting for me for the last half an hour... and he eventually had to come pick me up personally, to make sure that I'd join him at the pool in the end.
I open the door, to find Sean and Cock Soup an inch away from my very ugly, very ethnic, pierced nose. Cock Soup is squawking with gusto, and his head is peeking out from the pocket of Sean's trunks. I don't know if sticking a parrot into his trunks was a good idea... but Cock Soup is so happy to be there, he's loving it with daddy, and I'm sure he wouldn't shit in his pockets for how much he loves him and respects him! And yeah, I'm looking at daddy's crotch, but I promise that the focus of my attention is the cockatiel, not the cock ! The cock is tame ! And I don't know for how longer it's gonna stay tame, if he keeps looking at my little boobies, grinning like he'd like to have them as his PM snack. I wouldn't say no, if he's feeling hungry, but hey! Let's be decent! Our son is here! There's Bessie in this room with us, and she's laughing with this skit of us doing the idiots and the good parrot parents!
I chuckle, and Sean finally removes his curious, yet very playful look from my little boobies. I look at him with furrowed brows, just for the sake of playing some silly game with no rules with him, instead of rushing my lips to his... like I'd totally do, if I were a normal non girlfriend girlfriend. But I ain't, I am a silly, very in love prankster, and he is not very different from me ! He understands my message loud and clear, silliness, and he pays me back with the same degree of silliness: he's here, both arms crossed on his bare chest, looking at me with his signature, expressionless, stone cold Sean face. And we keep looking at eachother just like this, for no apparent reason, for quite a bit, until I'm the one to laugh first. He follows, filling my ears with his laughter and blinding my eyes with his pearly whites... and the next thing I know, is that Cock Soup goes flying above my record player, and Sean spears me right onto the bed. My back lands on the mattress, his chest bounces against mine, and we laugh because we agree that this might be one of the silliest and most random things we've ever done. But what can we do, if being quirky idiots is our love language ?
'Damn ... I fucking love my boobies'. He chimes in, and only when he opens the damn mouth and says something I wasn't expecting at all, impromptu and deliriously funny... I realise that it's the first time he's spoken since showing up at my door. Guy didn't even knock on the damn thing ! My cockatiel called me, and that's how I found out they were at the door ! Now he's one of the speaking kind again, and he's telling me that he loves his boobies, aka my boobies, while his hands are squashing them together and his head is well rested between them. And I have no fucking words to describe this besides ... how silly! How sweet! How Sean ! My tits are small and no special at all, but he's really making me feel like I have the prettiest little boobies in the world, and I'm drinking it!
'I love mine more! Beautiful boobies! Honk honk !' I giggle, grabbing a handful of my boobies, aka his beautiful man boobs, and giving them a solid squeeze. More or less like he has red clown noses in place of them, and I am honking both honkers simultaneously. And I don't know if we're playing, if I'm throwing it back to the night we met and we played that 'show me your boobs/no, your boobs first' for hours in a row, or if I'm just cryptically calling him a clown... but I love this! I frigging love this ! And I would never want this to end!
'Sherine, darlin'... y'know this gets me going'. He speaks, removing my hands from his chest... and having a real hard time trying not to laugh, while he purrs his head against my breasts and he does the silly idiot as his usual. While I'm laughing my ass off, blatantly, 'cause I can't believe he's just really fucking called me like that. We've unlocked a new nickname today, courtesy of the all Syrian guy at the Syrian restaurant who thought that my name was Sherine... just because he must've gotten Sean's multiple 'Cherry's addressed my way wrong, and he must've thought that my white boyfriend wasn't quite accustomed with the correct spelling of my exotic name. I can see a pattern, it's giving my mom here, and I'm fucking loving this! I am not Sherine, but I can be many things for him ... from Sherine, all the way to his exotic looking girlfriend Cherry!
Sham and Sherine! Wouldn't we be the cutest non Syrian Syrian couple ever ?
'Ok, I'm leaving'. Bessie chimes in, at the sight of Sean and I smooching, purring, laughing, and basically doing the weird ass lovebirds in front of her. And she really does head to the door, towel ready for dipping purposes over her shoulder, when Sean kneels between my legs, and I instantly wrap them around him. We kiss, a little bit more indecently than a second ago, and our tongues dance a slow, sticky waltz until he suddenly decides to part our lips. Leaving me here, under him, giggling my heart out against his own two ones.
'Yeah? I think Jerry's horn... I mean, eager. To see you'. Sean speaks, sarcastic as only he can be, without even trying, and Bessie and I crack up laughing at his joke. Gerry jokes are always funny, especially the ones about his relentless, crabby horniness. But Sean cracking Gerry jokes is a whole different kinda thing! He is so funny, so forward and so smart that I can't fucking cope. We all know that Gerry's dyna get Bessie dicked, and if she ain't gonna let him dick her in a reasonable time span, we will all have to eat some of his primadonna temper tantrums. Sean, in the form of disgusting nagging and shit talking. Bess, in the form of angry, disrespectful sex. And I, Baghdad, in the form of rude comments about my appearance and my ethnicity. Lame... very lame! But very Gerry !
'No! Don't go, Sean and I gotta tell you something important '. I cackle from right underneath Sean, huge smile on my lips, in the hope that my enthusiasm is going to be enough to keep my best friend here.. and to keep her away from Gerry and his deadly crabs, if possible ! Bessie stalls under the doorframe for a bit, until she decides to give in to the Sherine rizz, and she walks back inside of my room. Taking a seat right next to Sean and I, and looking at us wondering what the hell so important we gotta tell her, while all we're doing is laughing and cuddling in a very weird manner. Oh Bessie, I gotta tell ya a few things, my babe ! So many of 'em I don't even know where to begin with... maybe from the night of Cuntrell's basement party ?
'Yeah, Breast... I mean, Bess. I hope we're having a girl, 'cause we already have a boy. We need variety'. Sean takes the word, and decides to bring his contribution to the conversation in a very cryptic, very funny, very Sean way. Well, letting Bessie know that he bust a couple nuts and stuck a baby Syria inside of me wasn't my intention, at least not right now... but there we go. He did his thing, because Sean always does his thing not giving a single fuck about what's gonna come off his mouth next, and we're all laughing here. Except Cock Soup, who's blurting out a few, very heartfelt 'fuck Syria! Squawk's from his comfy lay on my record player. No, he doesn't particularly like the idea of having a sister, and just like his daddy, he's a blunt guy, and he's made no secret of his unwillingness to become a big brother.
Don't worry, habibi ! We're going to doctor Al-Yasiri's office for that purpose. I love little Syria, but she ain't meant to be ! You little, feathered cutie will be our only son for a long, long time ! Word on the morning after pill !
'What did you snort, Kinney ?' Bessie asks, pulling a sarcastic, basically calling Sean out for being one who's notoriously often under the influence of something... and not failing to make us laugh even harder, with this remark of hers. Y'know what's funny about it? That Sean didn't snort anything, not even a tiny, tiny little line of coke, over the last few hours we've spent being inseparable. He drank and he smoked with me quite a bit... but it's his inner idiocy giving him the bravado to do the inappropriate prankster, not the nonexistent power in his system !
And by the way, we're losing track of the conversation here! I didn't want to talk about my pregnancy and Sean's drug issues, I wanted to say something insightful and that's never really been said before, something that Bessie would really love to find out... but I suppose that my non boyfriend boyfriend and my best friend won't let me pipe the tea as easily as I thought I would've. Like Axl Rose would say... PATIENCE! I will eventually get there in a bit!
'Baby talc and this one over here '. Sean answers, without even thinking twice about what to say, and leaving me amazed by how smart and how quick he always is... even when he's doing the clowny people pleaser, talking about his imaginary fatherhood, probably thinking about how much money he's gonna have to spend on Syria's baby talc and diapers, if we don't rush to get the morning after pill within tonight... and snorting the gap between my two small titties, more or less like I've got a yum looking line of cocaine in it. But I don't have any powder on my body, just a ridiculously abundant amount of good smelling, rose water ! And he's silly, silly as fuck, almost inappropriate while he pretends to do the sniffer over my bikini clad body... but I love him for what he is! A silly, little, funny as hell weirdo !
Yeah, he ain't letting me speak, Bessie thinks this is a fucking stupid Sean prank, at this point... but I love these two! With my entire heart! And I don't ever wanna let go of them! I want a hundred more silly moments like this!