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.
