After The Party

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I was sitting in my living room that Sunday morning, working on the broken clasp of one of my anklets, my favorite anklet. The most expensive piece of jewelry I owned, it was a silver chain studded with diamond chips given to me by an ex-girlfriend. But the price tag was hardly the reason I cherished it. She gave it to me last year for my twenty- fourth birthday and I considered it a sign of how she felt about me. I was in love with her and it was her way of saying she felt the same.

Frustrated, I tossed aside the anklet and the pair of needle nose pliers I was using to fix it. I needed to lift my spirits. My eyes found the small bong sitting on the coffee table and my mind thought about watching some Saturday morning cartoons stoned. A tempting idea until I remembered the ex and I used to do that together. I looked at the windows and decided to let the exhibitionist in me take a shot. I opened the curtains wearing nothing but a pair of thong panties, giving an eyeful to anyone watching, but to my dismay even the voyeur in the apartment across the courtyard wasn’t home.

I left the curtains open and sat down on the couch, picked up the anklet and the pliers and tried working on it some more. The one bit of consolation I had was that it broke in the throes of passion last night, and for the first time in four months and I’m proud to say I wasn’t alone for it. I kept fumbling with the pliers trying to reach the piece that was bent. It was tough because I was still swimming in a semi-hangover, trying to gather the troops in my head while keeping my eyes focused on the small clasp area. I heard keys rattling in the lock of my front door. It scared me at first, until I remembered I’d given Amy keys to the apartment before she left. By the time I reached the door she had the deadbolt open and was working on the doorknob lock. I opened the door and yanked her halfway inside with her hand on the knob.

“Hel-lo!” she said.

“Sorry, thought I’d give you a hand.”

“I’d prefer the tit,” she said as she patted my left breast. I shut the door and took in the vision before me. Amy is 5’5″ and 125 lbs, I know this because her size and body type are almost identical to mine. Her breasts are a B cup, also like mine, but while I have brown curly hair down to my shoulders, Amy’s coal dark hair is chin length. She wore a red halter-top that exposed her belly, giving me a nice shot of her deep bellybutton and the silver waist chain sitting below it. A pair of black jeans and flip flops finished the outfit, along with the silver toe ring on her right index toe which was the first thing about her to catch my eye last night.

“Well?” I asked.

“I got some coffee,” she said. I noticed the cardboard tray in her hand with two cups from the coffee place down the block. Amy flashed her pearly white smile and walked over to the couch, setting the tray down on the coffee table.

I wasn’t sure if she understood what I was asking, so I tried again. “How’d it go?”

“Fine.” Her eyes darted to the table, where she noticed the anklet and picked it up. “I’m so sorry about this. I’ll pay to have it repaired.”

Okay, she was avoiding it. “Don’t worry, that’s not important. How’d it go?”

She took one cup out of the tray and took a sip. “It went fine,” she said, her eyes looking at the cup instead of me. “I told her and that was that.”

“And she’s okay with it?”

She held the broken anklet in her hand and nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Are you okay?”

She looked up at me and smiled, but her eyes were sad and I saw tears in the corners. The smile faded from her face. “No.” she croaked, looking back at the anklet. “She said it was okay and no problem and all that.” Tears started running and her voice was choked up. “Fuck. I saw it in her eyes. As soon as I said the words her face just.dropped. I mean, I knew she’d be shocked at first, but after that it was like, like she was disappointed.” I sat next to her and pulled her to me. We hugged as she started to cry.

“I’m sorry.” I said. And I really was, because I had brought all of this on her.

Thirteen hours earlier I walked into my friend Mario’s apartment. We’ve been friends since college and he now lives in the building down the block from me. A year ago he’d been looking for a place to live and I saw the vacancy sign in front of what would become his new address. The apartment was a two bedroom, so one of his old frat buddies moved in with him. Even in school Mario was a neat freak, bordering on obsessive compulsive (as a psych major I noticed these things), but his friend played the Oscar to his Felix and when the lease was up the friend moved out. Last night was the first party with his güvenilir bahis new roommate, a girl named Cynthia.

Mario isn’t involved with her, at least not yet, but since the boy has perfected his suave chick magnet routine I was taking open bets on the change in status. Of course with his track record, any involvement would be short lived and invariably end up badly.

I made my way to the kitchen, pausing to talk to the occasional friend I saw along the way. There were plenty of people I didn’t know, Mario’s co-workers or Cynthia’s friends, and I felt more than a few male eyes checking me out. In the kitchen Mario was working the blender, mixing one of his alcoholic concoctions that could melt steel.

“Whatever it is,” I said “it’s not going to turn you into The Incredible Hunk.”

“Hel-lo lez-bo!!!” he yelled and gave me a hug. “Here.” He stuck a plastic cup filled with a purplish liquid in my hand.

I took a whiff and was able to imagine the hangover already. “What’s in this?”

“Just try it!” he yelled. I took a sip and felt my tongue shrivel. “Well?”

“Now I know what turpentine tastes like.”

A girl standing by the stove laughed. Mario grabbed her and pulled her towards me. “Cynthia, I want you to meet my best friend in all the world, Tanya.”

I shook hands with Cynthia. A thin, willowy blonde, she could have been a model except for a slightly large, misshapen nose. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said.

“Then you’ve gotten your first lesson in how you can’t trust this idiot.” I told her. Cynthia laughed again, a little too hard this time. She’d probably have laughed even if it weren’t funny. We talked about Mario and I gave her some stories that he hemmed and hawed and made excuses for. I busted his chops a little about his reputation with women.

“I wouldn’t talk,” he said “you’re dressed like you’re on the prowl tonight.” I had dressed provocatively, a tight orange tank top that showed my belly button ring, dark jeans that stopped mid-calf and sandals. I wore a gold armband on my left arm and my favorite anklet around my right ankle.

“Sorry to say you won’t find too much here tonight,” Cynthia said, “all of my friends are straight.” There was something about the way she said it, a hint of arrogance so natural she probably didn’t even notice it. Like the way a sheltered rich girl might tell you she’d just shopped at an outlet for the first time in her life.

As the night progressed I got a better idea of Cynthia. Most of her friends were male and she enjoyed flirting with them, liked getting attention. I talked to a few and found many of them had met Cynthia at dance clubs. When I told one guy I was a lesbian he did the usual- asked questions like a cop interrogating a murder suspect.

I watched Mario work the few girls who were there. I’ve always wondered what he sees in me as a friend, aside from the fact that I’m the only white person he knows who speaks Spanish. We enjoy the obvious- checking out girls together, making bets which one of us would get a phone number. I think he likes having a girl pal who can call him on his bullshit and see him for who he really is. And me? I like having a guy friend who never treated me like a specimen, some enigma he had to figure out. As much of a dog as he is, he never tried to get me into bed. I told him I was a lesbian who didn’t sleep with men and he accepted it. There isn’t much to respect Mario for, but the little that’s there is worth putting up with the rest of it.

I was still debating my sexual preference with the guy I’d just met when Cynthia walked over to us. “You two getting along?” she asked.

“This girl is something else,” the guy said as he pointed to me. “She’s a lesbian, but she’s never been with a guy before.”

“I don’t understand what you don’t get about it.” I said.

“You say you’re not attracted to men, but how do you know if you’ve never tried it?”

“Have you ever slept with another guy?” I asked.

“Hell no.”

“How do you know you don’t like it unless you try it?”

“Shit,” he said in a drunken slur “that’s not the same thing.”

I looked at Cynthia, who laughed as I leaned my head forward into my hands in frustration. My eyes were facing the floor and I saw a pair of beautiful, feminine feet in flip-flops with a silver toe ring on the right index toe. I realized I hadn’t noticed someone standing next to Cynthia. The guy was babbling something while my gaze traveled slowly up the girl’s body. When I got to her face I realized she was looking me right in the eye. She’d noticed me checking her out.

“Tanya,” Cynthia said, “This is my friend Amy. Amy this is Tanya, she’s a lesbian.” Amy extended her hand and I took it. There was a little lingering to the handshake, but nothing to indicate anything more than what I was wishing.

“Yeah, but I’m a closet tennis player.” I added.

Amy laughed. She had this smile that lit up her whole face. “You’re pretty funny too.”

Cynthia grabbed Amy. “Let’s get you a drink.” They went into the kitchen and I followed. türkçe bahis Mario was at the blender, mixing something that was trying to be green but falling short by a few shades. I grabbed him on the arm.

“Hel-lo lez-bo.” I said.

His head shot up from his work. “Who?”

I spoke in Spanish. “See the girl with Cynthia at the fridge?” I asked. When we looked over I saw that Amy was looking right at us. Suddenly, she winked.

“You mean the one who just winked at me?” he asked.

“Idiot, she winked at me!”

“Uh uh, she winked at me.”

“Excuse me, I just said ‘Hel-lo lez-bo'”

“You think every hot chick is gay.”

“She could be.”

“You mean you want her to be.” Mario said as Cynthia and Amy walked out of the kitchen. He switched back to English. “Listen, Cynthia says they haven’t been friends long, but Amy is her new buddy for going out to pick up guys. They go to clubs all the time and according to Cynthia they score.” I felt all my excitement turn to frustration and anger. I’m sure Mario saw it in my face. “Hey, I’m not trying to bring you down. Maybe she’s bi.”

“Yeah,” I said “that’s all I need, get involved with another girl who will leave me for a guy.”

“So what? Because of that bitch Kristen you’re never going to have casual sex again?”

“I’ve got nothing against casual sex, I just…really like her.”

“You just met her,” Mario shook his head. “Now I know that rich bitch did a number on you.”

“It’s got nothing to do with her.” I said a little too defensively.

“Uh huh. That’s why you came out to score wearing a certain piece of jewelry she gave you? The one that, what did you say to me back then? ‘Solidifies our relationship.'”

“Fuck you.” I said as I stormed out of the kitchen and across the living room. I stood by the bay windows and stared out into the night sky, trying to calm down. The plastic cup of Mario’s concoction was still in my hand, so I downed half of it in one shot. The burn down my throat was followed by pain in my stomach. I may as well have swallowed a grenade. I lit a cigarette hoping I wouldn’t explode.

The door to my left was open and I looked inside. Cynthia and Amy sat on Cynthia’s bed looking at pictures. I put out the cigarette in an ashtray, took another swig of death juice and stepped in. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything, I just wanted to see what you’ve done to the place. The last guy that lived in this room used freon as air freshener.” God, I was babbling already. Cynthia smiled, but the look on her face was anything but happy.

Amy laughed. “Well that’s a cheap way to get a high,” she said. We both cracked up while Cynthia gave her fake chuckle. Amy’s eyes squeezed shut when she laughed out loud, and it just struck me as really cute.

“Actually I’m glad you walked in, you reminded me of something,” Cynthia said as she got up and walked over to a dresser. She opened the large jewelry box, took out a few pieces, then walked over and handed them to me. “They’re anklets. I noticed yours and figured you liked them,” she said.

“Yeah, wow, thanks.” Okay, maybe she wasn’t so bad. I looked through them and noticed a few nice pieces. “You sure you don’t want these anymore?”

“Definitely. They’re so last summer.” The arrogance I’d heard before in her voice was there again. She’s lucky anklets aren’t that long otherwise I might have used one to choke her to death.

Instead I just said “Thanks”, walked out, and went back to pretending to enjoy the view at the bay windows. A few minutes later Cynthia and Amy came out. Cynthia walked off to talk to some guy and Amy walked up to me.

“Hey.” she said. “Sorry about Cynthia. She can be annoying sometimes.”

“No worse than a car alarm.”

Amy smiled. “Are you kidding? I don’t think her brain and her mouth have met yet.” We both laughed. When we stopped neither of us spoke, a silent moment that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable.

Amy broke the silence first. “So,” she said as her eyes looked around us to make sure no one could hear “do you toke?”

“Oh yes.” I’d left my stuff at home because Mario is usually well stocked, but Amy had some in her purse, which she grabbed out of Cynthia’s room.

“We can’t do it in Cynthia’s room, she’d freak.” she said. “Where should we go? The bathroom?”

“Let’s go to Mario’s room.” I said.

“You sure he won’t mind?”

“I’m sure he won’t notice. He smokes a pound a day.” We made our way to Mario’s room at the other end of the apartment. Amy sat on his bed and packed a small bowl while I searched Mario’s CD rack. I found the Beck album I’d loaned him and put it on. Joining Amy on the bed, we each took a hit from her bowl.

“So I guess you like body jewelry.” she said.

“Yep. I was into it long before it was a fad and I’m sure I’ll be wearing them long after its past.”

“Hasn’t been that long for me, but I like wearing them. They look sexy.”

“Cool” I said. I couldn’t think of anything else to say. There was something I felt between us, but wasn’t sure if it was mutual attraction. güvenilir bahis siteleri I wanted to bring it up but everything I thought of sounded awkward in my head. Had she heard what we said in the kitchen? Did she even know I was gay?

“Any tattoos?” she asked.

I pulled up my shirt and showed her the black cat on the small of my back. “How about you?”

She had the bowl in her mouth when I asked. Without taking it out she stood and pulled down her jeans. Amy wore a pair of white thong panties, exposing the tattoo of a fairy on her right butt cheek. It was one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen, at least until she turned around and showed me the tattoo of Minnie Mouse next to her pussy. I just wanted to lean over and lick it. When she pulled up her pants I felt like an eight year-old whose parents just drove past Disney World on the way to the swamp.

She sat down and as she passed the bowl to me, used it to tap my belly button ring. “Got any more of those?” I stuck out my tongue to show her my tongue stud, then took a hit and passed the bowl back to her.

“Cool,” she said. “That’s a lot closer to the tip of the tongue than I’ve seen before.”

That was my in. “Depends on the sexual stimulation you’re looking to give. For blowjobs on guys they usually put it further back on the tongue. Close to the tip, like mine, is for eating pussy.” My body actually tensed up for her reaction as my eyes searched her face for it. But her eyebrows didn’t raise, there was no frown and no shock followed by a fake smile.

“Well,” she said, “I’ll just have to make sure that’s where they put mine then.”

I know the people downstairs heard my jaw hit the floor. Amy laughed so hard she fell back on the bed. I just sat there and enjoyed the shock.

“Oh my God!!” she said when she caught her breath. “I wish you could see your face!”

“Wait, you like women?”

“Well, I thought it was obvious. Between the way we looked at each other when we met and my little wink at you I figured you’d get it immediately. But when we were talking by the window I realized you still weren’t sure, so I figured I needed to get you alone.”

Amy was still lying on the bed and I crawled up on my side next to her.

“So, you’re gay right?”

She leaned up. “Exactly how dense are you?”

“Like mercury. What I’m asking is- are you gay, bi…”

Amy sighed. “Okay. You know when you were telling Brian you’ve never been with a guy because you’re not attracted to men?”


She put her face right in front of mine. “All I could think was I’m glad I’m not the only one.” Amy leaned in and gave me a soft, light kiss on the lips. I leaned in for more but Amy stuck the bowl in my mouth and laughed.

I took it out. “Is this you’re way of telling me I look better stoned?”

“No silly. I just don’t want to get into anything here.” She hesitated. “There’s a problem.”

I guessed, “You’re friends don’t know your gay.”

“No, I’m out. Actually, the only friend I have at this party is Cynthia, but she doesn’t know.”

“I meant to ask about that. Mario told me that you two go out and pick up guys together.”

Amy turned somber. “It’s a long story.”

“Throw in a car chase and I’ll be hooked.”

She slapped my arm. “If you must know, I graduated from college last year and most of my friends moved away or lost touch. When I got together with one of them I met Cynthia and.I don’t know, I guess we hit it off. I knew she wasn’t gay, but she was between groups of friends at the moment too. She started calling me and we’d talk a lot. I mean, we don’t have tons in common, but that’s what’s kind of cool. I’ve learned all kinds of stuff from her and vice versa. I keep meaning to tell her about me, everybody else knows.”

“But the right time just hasn’t come up yet,” I said sympathetically.

“Yeah, exactly. We started to hang out, going to bars and clubs together. Guys would buy us drinks, hit on us. Cynthia loved it. She said we made a great team for getting guys. It got harder to tell her because.I don’t know, it just got harder to bring it up.”

“Cynthia also told Mario you guys score a lot.” I said.

Amy frowned. “I’ll take their numbers and just never call. Those guys are lucky compared to the ones that try for Cynthia. Watching her work pisses me off sometimes- leading them on, playing them against each other. She loves fucking with them more than she loves to get fucked. I forget what the guys call it.”

“A cock tease.”

“Yeah.” she said, and looked at me. “Just so you know, I’m not like that.”

“Oh yeah?” I said as I leaned into her. “Prove it.” I kissed her lips passionately as my hands moved from her shoulders to her sides. My tongue found its way into her mouth, formally introduced itself to hers and they got along just fine. I expected her to break it off in case someone walked in, but she surprised me by wrapping her arms around my back and pulling me closer. My hands moved down her body and under her top as my fingertips lightly roamed the surface of her skin making her moan in my mouth. Amy squeezed my breasts through my top, starting at the base and moving up to my nipples, which were rock hard already. Suddenly she pulled my top up and tried to get it off of me. I broke the kiss.

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