play that old card with me!
Like I’m still that locked up girl who needs your guidance into the great big
world of feelings! I’m there! Believe me, I
feel!”
“Nic,” Michael says quietly, eyes darting
again hotly to my mouth.
“NO!” Every syllable I yell is a whip
cracking across his face. “You don’t get to say who I spend time with, and you
don’t get to say who I am and who I am not! And most of all – Michael!” I
roll his name off my tongue like it’s as appetizing as eating a pile of
maggots. “You do NOT get to say anything that has any connection to this !” I slam my hands hard against my
heart and glare at him. “You know why? Because you’re the one who tore it out
of my chest, threw it on broken glass, and stomped
on it while nonchalantly smoking a fucking cigarette and drinking a glass
of fucking Syrah night after fucking night! That’s why!” I stare at his
silence. At the darkness surrounding his spirit. At the strong lines of his
high Spanish cheekbones. At his oh-so-bad-for-me lips, parted.
We reach for each other, slamming our mouths
together in a violent kiss. We make each other pay for the pain we’ve caused
with groping hands and feverish lashing tongues. Gasping against gasps, I grab
his head as we kiss, pushing my body against his pants. His hands squeeze me so
hard it hurts. I’m glad it hurts. I want it to. We are two people who were in a
cookie jar that the other was forced to stay out of. Two people who have always
wondered what that cookie would taste like, and who are starving for a really
good cookie.
AMBER
Still Sitting Inside The Booth
I twist toward Jessica. “What just
happened?”
Michael is deadly gorgeous. He literally
took my breath away when I first saw him. He looks like he should be painted… not be the painter. If I
could cast him in a film, I’d cast him as the devil who seduces the virgin but
you still love him even as she’s having his evil, devil baby. His sex appeal
makes my fourteen-day fling – sexy ass Jake Lombardi – look like a
girl. Not to mention Michael’s eyes strip your panties right off with just a
look. You could be a nun and if Michel looked at you, you’d scream, stick it in!
But like Jake, he’s got all the ingredients
of A Big Mistake Cocktail. I don’t care if he left his wife. I mean, let’s
think about this – that woman must be devastated! Now is not the time;
this is all wrong! Everything in me says Mark
is her guy , that he’s The One.
Jess is staring after where she saw Nico
last, her mouth and eyes the shape of an O ,
like someone suddenly came down from the heavens and whispered in her ear the
answer to everything. “Oh my God.”
“What?” I slam both hands impatiently on the
table. “What, Jess, what?”
But Jess is in a stupor. “Oh my God.”
Rolling my eyes, I slam the table again. “Oh
my God what ?!”
But still, she stares dully off into the
distance, muttering, “Oh my God!”
Exasperated, I grab my things and jump out
of the booth. “Don’t just sit there – let’s go stop her!”
Jess scoots quickly out, her legs sticking
to the seat repeatedly. “Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Dammit!”
“Well, you shouldn’t have worn a short skirt
without stockings when it’s almost winter! Hurry!” I shove my way through the
crowd with Jess scrambling to catch up, mumbling something about it being her
favorite skirt.
As soon as we’re outside, Jess shouts, “Oh
my God!” She grabs my arm, digging her nails into my skin like you do in a
movie theater when the killer is about to jump out from the silence.
About a hundred feet down Stuyvesant Street,
Nico is screaming like crazy at Michael. “That can’t be good.” But then they
suddenly lunge for each other. Some might call it ‘kissing,’ but it’s more like
they’re eating each other alive.
Jess dryly laughs. “That can’t be bad.”
I throw her hand off me. “Jessica!”
Like I’m still that locked up girl who needs your guidance into the great big
world of feelings! I’m there! Believe me, I
feel!”
“Nic,” Michael says quietly, eyes darting
again hotly to my mouth.
“NO!” Every syllable I yell is a whip
cracking across his face. “You don’t get to say who I spend time with, and you
don’t get to say who I am and who I am not! And most of all – Michael!” I
roll his name off my tongue like it’s as appetizing as eating a pile of
maggots. “You do NOT get to say anything that has any connection to this !” I slam my hands hard against my
heart and glare at him. “You know why? Because you’re the one who tore it out
of my chest, threw it on broken glass, and stomped
on it while nonchalantly smoking a fucking cigarette and drinking a glass
of fucking Syrah night after fucking night! That’s why!” I stare at his
silence. At the darkness surrounding his spirit. At the strong lines of his
high Spanish cheekbones. At his oh-so-bad-for-me lips, parted.
We reach for each other, slamming our mouths
together in a violent kiss. We make each other pay for the pain we’ve caused
with groping hands and feverish lashing tongues. Gasping against gasps, I grab
his head as we kiss, pushing my body against his pants. His hands squeeze me so
hard it hurts. I’m glad it hurts. I want it to. We are two people who were in a
cookie jar that the other was forced to stay out of. Two people who have always
wondered what that cookie would taste like, and who are starving for a really
good cookie.
AMBER
Still Sitting Inside The Booth
I twist toward Jessica. “What just
happened?”
Michael is deadly gorgeous. He literally
took my breath away when I first saw him. He looks like he should be painted… not be the painter. If I
could cast him in a film, I’d cast him as the devil who seduces the virgin but
you still love him even as she’s having his evil, devil baby. His sex appeal
makes my fourteen-day fling – sexy ass Jake Lombardi – look like a
girl. Not to mention Michael’s eyes strip your panties right off with just a
look. You could be a nun and if Michel looked at you, you’d scream, stick it in!
But like Jake, he’s got all the ingredients
of A Big Mistake Cocktail. I don’t care if he left his wife. I mean, let’s
think about this – that woman must be devastated! Now is not the time;
this is all wrong! Everything in me says Mark
is her guy , that he’s The One.
Jess is staring after where she saw Nico
last, her mouth and eyes the shape of an O ,
like someone suddenly came down from the heavens and whispered in her ear the
answer to everything. “Oh my God.”
“What?” I slam both hands impatiently on the
table. “What, Jess, what?”
But Jess is in a stupor. “Oh my God.”
Rolling my eyes, I slam the table again. “Oh
my God what ?!”
But still, she stares dully off into the
distance, muttering, “Oh my God!”
Exasperated, I grab my things and jump out
of the booth. “Don’t just sit there – let’s go stop her!”
Jess scoots quickly out, her legs sticking
to the seat repeatedly. “Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Dammit!”
“Well, you shouldn’t have worn a short skirt
without stockings when it’s almost winter! Hurry!” I shove my way through the
crowd with Jess scrambling to catch up, mumbling something about it being her
favorite skirt.
As soon as we’re outside, Jess shouts, “Oh
my God!” She grabs my arm, digging her nails into my skin like you do in a
movie theater when the killer is about to jump out from the silence.
About a hundred feet down Stuyvesant Street,
Nico is screaming like crazy at Michael. “That can’t be good.” But then they
suddenly lunge for each other. Some might call it ‘kissing,’ but it’s more like
they’re eating each other alive.
Jess dryly laughs. “That can’t be bad.”
I throw her hand off me. “Jessica!”
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