So here we are now. Sean and I, just the two of us, sprawled on one of the few couches in the VIP booth. I mean, he's half sprawled on the couch, with one arm around my shoulders, and I'm sprawled on him, legs thrown on his lap, butt on the couch, and as my very usual, head on his chest. We are enjoying a much deserved moment of elusive chill and semi snuggles, after we came back from the restroom with nostrils full of white powder, a raging high, and enlarged pupils. I don't know how we ended up doing cocaine in the toilet stall, but it happened almost naturally, and I won't complain, because I lowkey needed a fix, and I know he did too.
We were at the bar, talking nonsense and laughing with our friends, in front of the empty glasses of the drinks once offered by Jesus Christ of Bethlehem ... I mean, Mr. Cornell, when Sean decided to randomly grab me by the waist and put me with my feet on the floor. He hopped off his stool, he held my hand, walked me to the restroom, and we kissed all the way there, until he slammed the door behind our backs. He snuggled me in the first available toilet stall, he pinned me against the wall, and we made out until my panties became sticky. I thought he wanted to fuck and finish what he started in the toilet at the bar, for how hungrily we were kissing... but I had to change my mind the moment he pulled away from me, slid a hand into his belt bag, flaunted a tiny bag of powder, and his credit card with it. The message was clear: he wanted to sniff more than he wanted to fuck, and I welcomed his instance to get wasted with me with a big, chuffed grin. I offered him my travel size mirror, he laid two lines of powder on it, and we just fucking snorted together, until there wasn't one single sprinkle of devil's flour left on the mirror. The high kicked into us pretty quickly, and we exchanged one wired look, before we started to make out against the wall, all over again.
Plot twist... we didn't have sex. We didn't do anything else but kissing, grinding, and touching a lot. Standard Sean x Cherry stuff, we've been functioning like that since the very first time we met. We only decided to put a damper on our lustfulness when he was touching me, I was giving him a lovely handy, and we were both quite close to coming. I mean, he decided that, and I stuck with it, because he said that it was just the beginning of what he would've done to me once back at the hotel. I'm packing up so much latent horniness that the hearty side of me wouldn't be afraid to straddle and take him in right here and right now, fuck the wait and fuck the hotel. Fuck the audience too, because I just couldn't care any less about it. But the good, tame girlfriend part of me is prevailing, because babe's mood swung from horny to total sweetheart-like, and I'm vibing with it a lot. I bloody love my babe and his mood swings, all of them, even the violent ones ! Five minutes ago, he was pinning me against the wall, kissing my neck, rubbing his cock against my pussy, and telling me that he's lucky he gets to fuck it everyday, because it's so pretty it makes a man melt. A man, a single man. Notice the subtleness of this guy! I became a fucking puddle on the spot, and he grinned the grin of someone who always knows what to tell to a lady, in order to big her up. A mood swing after, now we're here, laying on the couch, away from our friends and from recreational drugs, and having super cute, elusive, lazy snuggles. He's twirling a strand of my red coils around his pointer finger, he's kissing my forehead, and I'm melting another kind of melt now. Fingers trailing between his loose, wavy strands, I use my free hand to grab a fistful of his t-shirt, and I pull him closer to me. Our foreheads touch, our lips meet, and we kiss slowly and passionately, 'til my mind is blown, and 'til my fingers are sore from all that rubbing his hair. He parts our lips, and looks at me with a sprinkle of... something I wouldn't be able to describe, in his eyes. He looks like he's coked up big time, and he is. But there's more than just cocaine in his stare, and I just can't seem to figure out what it is. No one in this life has ever looked at me like this... so, I suppose it's okay, if I don't know what the hell's going on with my lover.
'I love your fucking smile'. He speaks, rubbing the corner of my mouth with his thumb. And only when I can feel his touch on my lips, I realise that I'm smiling. Smiling as in showing my teeth. Not smiling as in curling my lips in a toothless manner. Honestly, I'm very confused, because I just don't know how long I've been pulling this smile without even realising it in the first place. All I can think about is that love makes me function in silly ways, and it makes me feel like an idiot... but as long as it makes me smile, and my lover finds my smile alluring, it's all good with me. It makes two of us, being total suckers for the other's smile. And it makes two of us, going from 'I love your x unholy body part' all the way to 'I love your y holy body part'. Could it get any better than this?
'Would you be a good Cherry... and come back here with two drinks?' He asks, before I can even try to chime in, do the sappy, and tell him he has the most fucking beautiful smile in the world. That pearly white, big, blinding, beautiful and not always easily accessible smile is one of the many things about Sean that stole my heart. Another thing about Sean that stole my heart is his forwardness, his ironic forwardness especially ! I have him well figured out, and I know he's asking me to hit the bar and come back here with two drinks... because he just can't wait to check my bum out, as I disappear in the crowd, and walk back to him and him only with two drinks in my hands. This is new, this is the first time he's ever sending me to the bar instead of coming with me, or instead of doing the chivalrous and going to the bar to get us drinks, while I just sit and wait for him to be back. And honestly, I'm feeling like it. This is totally new, but I'm totally feeling the role swap. And if my bum walking to the bar keeps him going, I'll just fucking walk the bum and make sure it serves its one purpose: appealing to my boyfriend, and period. At the end of the day, haven't I earned myself a fame for being a good Cherry?
'Good Cherry summoned!' I chuckle, wide smile still on my lips, as I pinch his cheek and I stand back up on my feet. But before I wiggle my ass to the bar like I've been politely asked to, and walk back here with two beers, because I have absolutely no idea what Sean wants to drink and I think I'll be going for the safest option there is... I bend down on him, and I wipe off a big stain of red lipstick off his lips. I don't know for how long it's been there, I reckon since around the time we started to devour eachother's mouth on the way to the restroom, but prior to now, I was too high to see it and eventually wipe it off. But now I'm slightly more sane, and I'm cleaning up the mess I've made with the sole aid of my fingers. And only when my boyfriend looks a bit less like he's eaten spaghetti and he's forgotten to wipe sauce off his mouth afterwards, I smooch his lips with my now, lipstick free own ones, and I finally turn my vinyl heels towards the bar.
'I'll have an eye on you... yes I will'. He speaks, cheeky grin all over his face, and the entitlement of someone who knows that I've totally caught his drift ... and understood his intentions. I laugh, because I can't do anything else: we're just that cheesy, that naughty, yet so cute at times. And he's adorable, when he does the clingy boyfriend, has an eye on me wherever I go, and ain't afraid to confront any asshole tryna woo at me at any given moment. I literally squirm out loud, when he lifts his back from the couch, he smiles with his pearly whites full out, and he gives my buttocks a firm squeeze. Yeah, he really wanted to squeeze my ass, before I eventually started my runway to the bar, and I'm totally down for the playful groping. Heels still turned towards the bar, on the brink of heading there and giving him the show that he so fancies, I have to stall for just a little bit longer, when he slides his hand in his back pocket, and he hands his wallet over to me. Looking at me with an expression that screams 'where d'ya think you're going, without my money?' But without saying an actual word about it, because he knows that I'm gonna throw the damn wallet at him if he opens his mouth and gets too verbal. Ouch. Here we go again. But hey there, when did we unlock the level of trust in which I can have his wallet... and stick my hand in it? Freely? And away from his ever so inquisitive stare? I appreciate it, but it's not the kind of thing that I want from him. He can keep the wallet. I want the heart and the heart only.
'Oh, no no! I can offer you a drink, I swear !' I exclaim, full of myself in the most wholesome way there is, because come on ... offering a drink to a guy who constantly makes sure I have everything I need and beyond, including the morning after pill, is the least I can do. I was raised by generous parents and I am generous with everyone who's close to my heart, except Sean. That, because whenever I try to be as generous as I'd like to be, with him, he gets tackled masculinity. He thinks that everything must be on him, because he's the gent and I'm the lady, but I don't believe in such gender stereotypes. Or maybe, even worse, he thinks that I'm unemployed because of him, broke, and I need a caregiver... I just don't know what his point is. Either way, I am not broke, not desperately broke at least, and spending a few bucks on the man who made me unemployed makes me happy. I'll do it again, tonight. And if he wants to give me silent treatment, like he did after I bought us dinner at the park of earlier tonight ... I'll get him to talk to me by showing him all I know about drums. Sean loves drums. He loves drums so much he has a 'I <3 drums' sticker on his drum trunk. He talks about drums to me, more often than one would imagine, and I don't understand anything. All I know about drums, I've picked up from the endless conversations we've had. I'll ask him if the sticks he gifted me this morning are 5A or 5B, if the tip is rounded or oval... and we'll see if he doesn't answer ! He will answer, and he'll tell me more and more and more, until I turn into a whole drumming encyclopaedia !
'I bet Jerry can, too. Add 'em to his bill'. He answers, offering me a very valid compromise to end the 'I pay/no, I pay' bantering. I laugh, because adding our drinks to Gerry's bill sounds like a great idea, one of these ideas that only a nuisance like Sean could ever come up with. I think he's joking, I think he's just slandering his bandmate who's having a chat with a girl with hair much less red than mine, in the corner of the partying room... but he isn't. He's deadass serious. And he lets me know it tucking his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans, and giving my hip a squeeze like he's daring me to go to the bar... and really ask the bartender to add two drinks of my choice to mr. Cuntrell's bill. As if I wouldn't have the courage to ! I'll do more than just that, because that's how extra I am ! I am Palestinian, I have courage to sell! But he doesn't know that, he still thinks that my hometown is a fictional place mentioned in the Bible, in modern day Syria, so let's say... I'm Arab, I'm shady as fuck, and I don't give one shit about it. I will go there, order two drinks, and ask the bartender to clearly write that these were bought for Hezbollah and Sean, on Mr. Cuntrell's final bill. Yalla habibi ! I feel full of sass and self irony, and not even Gerry himself and his crap can stop my relentless strutting to the bar to buy drinks with his money.
'Faiza'. Sean speaks, the same exact moment I give him my back, and I begin to walk towards the bar. This is the exact moment I realise that nothing can stop me, except the guy I love, calling me by the name that my parents decided to assign me at birth. And I don't know how he does it, but his way of pronouncing it makes my legs turn to jelly and my heart bump oddly fast into my chest. No matter how ready I was to go out there, pull a menace just for the fun of it, and to have Gerry fuming later tonight, now I'm stalling. Looking at my boyfriend, sprawled on the couch with one hand on the peepee, and his other hand throwing me a kiss. I don't know what's happening... but damn, I think it's beautiful. And I also think I'm lucky. I mean, how many girls can say 'my boyfriend asked me to go to the bar to get a couple drinks, and when I was on my way to, he made me turn and blew me a kiss for absolutely no reason'? I don't know anyone who could claim this. And trust me, I have a hundred so-called girl friends. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the proof that I am the luckiest girl I know! And I'm loving this for myself!
'I love you'. He speaks, once he's sure that he's grabbed my unconditional attention, and that I ain't gonna go anywhere until he's done with me. Needless to say, his sudden, dry yet heartfelt love declaration sweeps me off my feet and has me looking at him mouth agape. Hearing him through the music blasting from the speakers was no easy thing, and thinking about it more closely, I might've as well misheard his words. But I have faith he really said he loves me ! He's deep in his charmer element tonight, and I love his vibe. He's a natural, unpredictable, hilarious charmer, and that's what makes him... him. Plus, I don't know why's that, but I feel like he's tryna give me a heart attack by casting words of affirmation my way, exactly when I'm expecting them the least. First it was my smile being fucking beautiful, all of a sudden, now it's his love for me, just as randomly. Sean is doing the magician tonight, ain't he? Except that, instead of pulling baby bunnies off his hat, he's pulling words of affirmation off his mouth. But I reckon it's just because he's left his Budweiser hat at the hotel. I am no magician, but I feel like I'm gonna ask him which card I've got in the cleavage of my dress. And why the two of hearts, out of all the poker cards.
He's laughing at the very surprised expression I'm pulling, and he keeps laughing for quite a bit ... until the clownery kicks into him, he falls back first on the couch, he tucks his arm under his head, and he pretends he's fallen asleep on the spot. Standard Sean, spontaneously silly as ever, but with an extra sprinkle of white powder in himself that kinda gives it away. If he wasn't pretending to be asleep, I'd be there, kissing my Sleeping Beauty, and asking him to stop doing White Snow (or Snow White?) because it does him weird things. Walt Disney slandering seems interesting... but I'll skip it this time. I'll just ride my boyfriend's vibe, I'll clown, I'll strut my ass to the bar, and I'll come back with two drinks paid by The Beast. After that, I'll offer my Seanderella a dance. Because yeah, we've been here for the last half an hour, but we still haven't danced.
So here I am now. Reinvigorated by the clownery and powered by irony, I'm marching my way to the bar and laughing my ass off, instead of wiggling it for my hunk's healthy enjoyment. I know he's looking at me, when he ain't pretending to sleep. His elusive, clowny stare keeps me going, but it doesn't make me feel like I want to cock in my best ass wiggling walk. It just makes me feel like I'm the prettiest and clowniest girl in this dance hall, and that's a title I really wanna hold on to. If I weren't pretty and if I weren't clowny as hell, my super fussy lover would be sprawled on the couch with either one of the countless stunning chicks in this club, and he wouldn't be giving me any of his attention. And that's beautiful... but hey, how am I the one he wants to spend the rest of the night with, if the chick whose foot I've just stepped on, in the overly packed dance hall, is much prettier than me? I hurriedly apologise to her, she doesn't bother to give one shit about me, because she's too busy grinding herself against a man who's twice her age and very ugly, and I somehow manage to strut my way to the bar counter. As soon as I'm there, the first thing that my eye catches is ... Bessie. Speaking of stunning chicks, here comes my favourite Miss Sex on Legs, and one of my favourite people in the world. She's ordering a drink ... and I feel like I may as well ruin her peace, give her some gabbing, and convince her to do the Sean/Cherry thing. Which means, adding her drink to Gerry's bill. And asking the bartender to specify that the drink in question was for the future Mrs. Gossard.
'I have the same dress, but it doesn't look as good on me! How d'ya do it, habibti?' I chime in, finally ruining my best friend's peace, and throwing my arm around her shoulders to announce my presence. She turns my side with a huge smile on her lips, and that alone is enough to suggest me that she's appreciated my compliment... and my throwback to when Chrissie, her and I decided to do the powerpuff girls, and bought the same halter minidress but in different colours. Bessie bought it in turquoise, Chrissie bought it in purple, and I bought it in yellow. We wore it for one of our usual Seattleite nights out, and we all got back to our shared apartment with men by our hips. My man was Ben, for instance. And no, I ain't missing him at all. In and out, I feel sorry for him, but I think that running away from his proposal was the best thing I've ever done. I wouldn't be here now, if I said yes, instead of swinging from the rafters in nothing but a men's T-shirt and Chrissie's panties I'd stolen from the restroom.
to be continued
it's gonna be a long long night
like Mr. Cuntrell's bill !
إكس أو إكس أو
فيزا