She, 4

            She popped the MDMA just as a popsicle cart rode by. She laughed.

            “Want a lolly with your molly?” She laughed again at her hilarity. She peeled herself off the grass and waved to the popsicle vendor to stop.

            “And what would this beautiful lady like today?” he asked warmly as she walked up to him.

            She looked at the sickly colourful poster on the side of the cart showing the goods available.

            “Fruity and red,” she said. “Please,” she added.

            “You want a Strawberry Fruitsicle,” he said as he took out the popsicle from inside the cart with a flourish.

            She almost rolled her eyes but realised it might make the situation slightly awkward and refrained. Instead she smiled, gave him the money and waved goodbye.

            As she took her place back on the grass, she thought about the sweet nature of the popsicle vendor. Were there really people like that who existed? People who had enough happiness inside them that they could share it with others?

            And had she ever been one of those people?

            No, she decided. It was a ruse, if not intentional.

            She remembered his exaggerated action when taking out her Strawberry Fruitsicle (which was delicious and definitely cancerous) and she shook her head.

            “Silly,” she muttered bitterly. “And stupid.”

            Her phone rang out and she searched through her bag to find it.

            “Hi,” she said.

            “Hey, it’s after ten and you’re not in the office.”

            “Didn’t I ring?” she exonerated in a reverential tone.

            “Where are you?”

            “Sick. I ate steak last night.”

            “What? Steak? What the hell does that have to do with –”

            “I haven’t eaten meat in sixteen years. Do you really want me to come into work today? I will. I’ll just use my paper bin as a vomit bucket. How does that sound?”

            “Well, fine. But you should’ve called. And do not take that tone with me, you work for me and I will not have insub-“

            She hung up and immediately called back. “So sorry, the call dropped or something. Fucky networks. You were saying?”

            “Ah. Well, it doesn’t matter. Is this just a one-day recovery thing? Or are you handing in sick leave?”

            “If I’m not better tomorrow I will call in an airlift to bring me up to your office window so I can personally hand you my sick leave slip.”

            “Do not take that tone with me! I simply meant do you think you will need more time to recover or what?”

            “It’s pretty up in the air right now,” she responded, languishing delicately in the grass. She swallowed a large piece of popsicle and the cold went to her head. She squinted against the pain and then smiled as the jaunty feeling tingled in her body. Hello, molly. “But if you’d like, you can call me every ten minutes from now until tomorrow morning to see my progress.”

            “Look, wise-ass, I could have you fired for this bull-“

            She hung up and waited five seconds, then called back. “So sorry. Fucky networks.”

            “You did that on purpose!” he spat from the other end.

            “So I’ll call you in the morning if I’m not coming in. I won’t call you if I am because that would be idiotic since you’ll see me anyway. Or would you definitely need more confirmation than my physical presence to know I’m coming in?”

            There was a pause where she could imagine his face, red as fuck, his eyes bulging out of sheer rage, wanting to scream into the phone at her for being a sarcastic fucking cunty bitchass bitch with the cockiest dildo up her hairy saggy fat ugly ass.

            “Fine,” he said calmly and hung up.

            She laughed and lay down in the grass, the high washing through her. She laughed again and sprung to her feet. As she walked through the park, her steps felt light. It didn’t feel like she was moving on her own accord but more like floating through the scene. The crisp morning air felt tingly and her hands were clammy. She put them on her cheeks and shuddered. The feeling was electric.

            She approached a wooded area and started to climb the surrounding rocks, heading into the trees. The autumn leaves scattered the floor, making hues of brown, yellow and orange swirl into a bright cacophony for the eyes. She treaded carefully, trying to make as little sound as possible. She searched through the tree trunks, looking for any human movement through the stillness.

            Then, she saw it through the foliage: a man wearing a navy blue windbreaker. She watched as he stood in a small clearing and rubbed his cock through his jeans. She moved closer until she was behind a tree not more than twenty feet away from him. Now she could see another man approaching the clearing. The first man continued to touch himself as the second slowly approached, eyes alert and cautious to the surroundings. He walked up to the first man and, without introduction, fell on his knees and started sniffing the other’s crotch. He moved his hands under the windbreaker and fondled the first’s nipples.

            The navy blue windbreaker rustled almost soundlessly as the man on his knees undid the jeans to expose the other’s hard, purple-pink cock. As the first man put his hand on the second’s head, pushing his face into his ruddy cock, she saw the white gold wedding band on his finger.

            For some reason, this heightened her senses and she put her clammy palm into her undergarments, rubbing her crotch as she watched the blowjob unfold.

            The married man shuddered for a moment as the second fellow’s mouth wound its way up and down, leaving a coat of glistening spit behind. He pushed the second man’s face deeper and let out a moan, broken by soft staccato as he trembled while the second man licked the head of his penis viciously.

            “You like that?” asked the one giving the blowjob, only momentarily, between mouthfuls of dick.

            “Deeper,” said the windbreaker, as he rammed his pelvis hard, over and over. “Fuuuuuck,” he said in a low grunt through supposed teeming pleasure.

            The second stood up and put his moist lips on the first’s. They kissed passionately, tongues wrangling each other as they groped the other’s body haphazardly, almost as if the human form were a mystery. They did this for several minutes in sexual abandon. The windbreaker pulled the other’s hair as he stuck his tongue deep into his mouth, pulling him close and thrusting his hips. His dick remained rock hard, bending and wrinkling against the trousers, staining it with precum.

            She pushed against her clitoris and a solid breath escaped her mouth. She saw the condensation rise in the air around her head as the second man pulled down the other’s jeans fully, turned him around in one quick movement, dropped to his knees and started rimming him. His tongue searched deep into his ass and the windbreaker gasped, the sound echoing around the clearing as he placed his wedding-ringed hand on a nearby tree trunk for support.

            He pushed his ass back to meet his tongue, slowly winding his hips as he gripped one of his ass cheeks and pulled it, opening up wider.

She continued to toy with herself. Her wetness surrounded her fingers and she pushed inside while her thumb flicked at her engorged clit.

            She shifted and stopped suddenly. Both men were looking in her direction and the windbreaker was already pulling up his jeans. She stepped behind the tree in front of her quickly, cursing herself. They had definitely seen her. The adrenaline pitched through her blood at lightening speed, her heart hammering hard as a giggle escaped her lips.

            Without thinking, she ran in the direction she had come, going full throttle through the woods, screaming with laughter. The leaves became a yellow blur she continuously blinked against, her eyes watering from the chilly air.

            She catapulted out of the wooded area and collapsed on a patch of grass nearby, panting hard through huge belly laughs. After some minutes she sat up, feeling the ebbs of molly starting to leave her.

            She walked uptown and stopped in at a diner.

            “Booth. Window,” said the guy in front.

            She complied and sat quietly, looking out the window at passersby. She started counting how many people were smiling. She got up to ten before getting bored and turning her gaze to the white tabletop. It was scratched and stained with years of dirt that had no hope of being wiped away at this point.

            Stains. They stayed no matter how raw you rubbed. Somehow, something sticks and stays, forever.

            Her mind strayed to what she had just done in the park: the molly, hunting through the woods to see and engage in sexual depravity. She rubbed her eyes and sighed as a waitress approached her.

            “Hey,” she said. She had long curly red hair in high pigtails on her head.

            “Hi,” she replied, rubbing her face again. “Coffee, please.”

            “That it?” asked pigtails.

            She nodded in acknowledgment and went back into her thoughts.

            She could so easily detach. She knew how to completely disregard her feelings as a part of herself. They became dust at her will, letting her physical being take over. It was easier than feeling everything else.

            She thought about him and jerked unexpectedly. She breathed in deep, trying to catch herself, the anxiety inside bubbling up. Would he be at home? Would he be packed and ready to leave?

            She breathed in heavily again, holding back the water behind her eyes. Stop, she implored herself, trying to let her eyes and mind wander back to the people on the street. But the restriction inside her did not abate and unexpectedly she let out a sob. She covered her mouth and looked around quickly to see if anyone had noticed.

            The waitress was returning with a tray.

            “Coffee, milk, sugar (white and brown), mug, and some pie,” said the waitress, resting each item on the table in front of her as she listed it off.

            “I didn’t order pie.”

            “You look like you could use some. It’s on us,” said the waitress as she turned to leave.

            “Hey, wait. I really don’t want the pie.”

            The waitress turned to look at her with a pitiful expression.

            “Honey, it’s cut, it’s on a plate, there’s a fork: do the math. What’s biting your ass anyway?”

            She guffawed in sheer shock at the waitress’ question and shook her head. “You can’t speak to me like that.”

            “Why? Because I work here? Think again, sister – you refused the pie. You better trust that my supervisor will be on my side.”

            She surveyed the waitress for a few seconds and then laughed. The waitress cracked a smile and re-approached the table. “You’ll have the pie then?”

            She nodded and picked up the fork.

            “Big city troubles?”

            She stopped chewing and looked at the waitress in her eyes somberly.

            “Yes,” she nodded, her pigtails jumping around with her head, “big city troubles.”

            “I really don’t want to talk or think about it,” she said, eating another piece of pie.

            “Okay. Enjoy the pie.”

            She ate the pie, drank her coffee and left the money on the tabletop. Before she could exit, the waitress came up to her.

            “If you don’t want to think about it, or him, you should come to my friend’s party tonight. She owns a bar.” She slipped a business card into her hand.

            She stared at the waitress in near horror. Think about him? How did she know there was a him?

            “I don’t think…”

            “Trust me, it’s fun,” said the waitress. “Anyway, just a suggestion. I’ll be there around midnight tonight, maybe see you there.”

            She shrugged, deciding she didn’t have the strength, and said, “Maybe,” turned and left the diner. She hailed a cab, put the card into her jacket pocket without looking at it, and hopped in.