The View From the Window

Lucy was a quiet outcast frequently distracted by thoughts of her failing family and directionless life. Her friends were an odd assortment of exchange students, band-geeks and misunderstood rebels who smoked obscure brands of native cigarettes like they were sacred. She wasn’t sure exactly where she fit in, both with her friends at school and with her family at home. She was as uncomfortable in her own skin as one could get, and spent most of her time walking around looking down at the ground, or sitting in her bedroom staring out the window.

Her senior year of high school was her most traumatic ever.  Her parents separated, her brother announced that he was Gay and began a full time drugging career, and she had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. Her awkward and unsure demeanor always scared people off and made them uncomfortable around her. It was like they sensed her discomfort and personal trauma. Nobody knew how to communicate with her without feeling burdened by the conversation. Lucy often sat alone on the windowsill of her bedroom window wondering what to do next. She didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life and felt she had little control over the things that happened to her in her life. She just knew that she didn’t want to end up like her mom Mary or depressed and drunk like her father Clyde

Lucy had never really felt much of a connection with her mom; who was one of those women who had kids and made a family life out of necessity, not because it was something she really wanted. Mary was a real estate agent and worked hard day and night closing deals to acquire more shit, more wealth, better cars, and more stature while her husband Clyde sat in front of the television with a bottle of Canadian Club staring at his dusty guitar dreaming of what might have been. Mary pretty much ignored Clyde for the most part and really only spoke to him if she needed something from him. It was largely felt that he was a mistake in her life, and often the kids were made to feel like that as well.

Clyde, as depressed as he was, was at least real. And he had a good (albeit dysfunctional) connection with Lucy. Sure he got drunk and slurred his words sometimes, or cried about his wife Mary, but they talked about lyrics and life and analyzed people around them. Clyde was a machinist and always felt resented by his wife Mary. He tried and tried to make her happy and eventually just gave up. He was always made to feel like he was some sort of low-class loser that she just “got stuck with”. Lucy’s older brother Aaron was the spawn of this mismatched love made in a watering hole. Mary wouldn’t talk to him anymore since he announced to the family at dinner that he was gay.  And Clyde, well he just kept trying to figure out how to talk to his son man-to-man about a topic he knew nothing about. So Aaron was pretty much ignored by everyone except Lucy.

Aaron had felt resented since the day he was born. He didn’t feel like the joyous addition to a family that most first-born children are, he was likened more to a dirty little secret. He knew that if it weren’t for that drunken night when his parents conceived him in what was supposed to be a one night stand, they likely wouldn’t be together. His first 5 years of life were spent being shuffled around at various daycare centres while Clyde busted his ass on the nightshift, sleeping during the day and Mary disappeared selling homes, closing deals, and working out incessantly at the gym forgetting about her motherhood duties and lower middle-class reality.

And then came Lucy… Surprise! Another drunken resentful night of sex combined with Mary’s steadfast resistance to the birth control pill. At least after Aaron they made an attempt to be together by getting married. Lucy wouldn’t remember, but apparently after she was born Mary disappeared for 3 months to “figure her life out” while Clyde took a leave of absence at work to carry the weight of single parenthood, the loss of a wife, and worry of finances on his unprepared shoulders.

Mary came back, after two affairs, several hotel rooms, and tanking sales figures at work. She realized that in some miserable way, her real life was what propelled her to sell and be the relentless bitch of a real estate agent she was. She ended up tripling her sales figures that year and went on to become one of the top selling agents in the region. No one was really sure why.

Lucy was fifteen the first time her mother said “I love you”. It was forced, unnatural and totally awkward. Lucy was escorted home by a police officer after her seventeen-year-old boyfriend crashed the car they were driving home from a keg party. Her boyfriend died. Lucy miraculously got nothing more than whiplash and the pain of a dead boyfriend.

Clyde held her hand supportively as she explained the story to her concerned parents. Mary just glared at her in amazement, wondering how she managed to escape unscathed.

Tears streaming down her face she cried “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he was drunk. I swear”

“We’re just glad you’re okay” sighed Mary “And also… I, I love you Lucy. I want you to know that. I always have.”

It was no surprise that a year later her mom was finished. Finished with the family, finished with Clyde and finished pretending to be the warmhearted family woman that only her family knew she wasn’t. Mary went full boar with her selfish material-driven life and shallow career. Aaron moved out with some new friends and Lucy stayed in the empty shell of a family home with her dad.

When Mary and Aaron left, the house seemed different; calmer, quieter, a little bit more depressing, but also a little nicer. Clyde frequently sat in the quiet of the dimly lit living room pouring himself glass after glass of Canadian Club while his daughter sat concerned and reflective looking out of the window in her bedroom. They ate dinner together in the evenings and sometimes watched Jeopardy together.

Late one evening Lucy wandered into the living room to talk to her dad who was sitting in his chair quietly, staring out into the backyard. He didn’t hear Lucy wander in.

“Oh hi Luce” he said in a defeated voice

“Dad… We are gonna be okay”

“I know we are,” he said

“It’s just us now.  She never wanted to be here anyway. And Aaron is still here, he just doesn’t live here.”

He looked down into his empty glass and then stared up at his beautifully insightful daughter. He wanted to say something, anything, but couldn’t find the words. A tear fell from his eyes as Lucy sat on the arm of his wingback chair and hugged him tightly holding his head close to hers, while the warm glow of the television reflected on their faces.

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Joey Fallon’s Life

He had a sort of unusual way about him. Could never quite look anyone in the eye and preferred the company of cats with the glow of his computer screen adorning his face and the low hum of infomercials coming from his 1983 floor model television. It wasn’t always this bad, at one time he had a life, a personality, trusting eyes, and a smile on his face.

This was Joey Fallon’s life.

He grew up in a small village in England. The eldest of 4 boys in a working class family with a typical alcoholic father, passive aggressive mother and walls that had tobacco stained on them like a design finish. His mother couldn’t stand the sight of his father and worked 12 hour days to avoid the responsibilities of motherhood, marriage, and the sad reality that she called life. At the age of 18 he escaped the village and set off to London to rack up a huge student debt and hopefully become something in life. He distanced himself from his parents and siblings and started a fresh life with a new personality; successfully convincing people that he was a well-adjusted intelligent hipster rather than the trainwreck child of an alcoholic he really was.

This worked for several years. He had posh new friends, a great job in the financial sector, a healthy bank account and enough people around him to make him feel secure without his family, who always seemed to make things worse. But that all came to a crashing halt when his brawl-crazy and clearly resourceful brother Bobby showed up on the doorstep of his flat with tears in his eyes and said “Joey – Mum’s dead.”

With the news of his mothers passing Joey’s father began drinking even heavier than he had before (which no one thought possible). Scotch was now on the breakfast menu and he failed to acknowledge or attend something he formerly had called “a job”. They forgave him for a while but he was eventually fired for being a drunk and not giving a shit. Joey had to pack up his apartment and do the only-obligatory-because-his-asshole-brother-had-found-him thing… Move back to the village he loathed so that he could get a substandard go-nowhere job and help to support his disaster of a family. His three brothers were still finishing up high school and couldn’t work yet and his dad was too busy shitting himself, verbally assaulting the world and punching holes in the wall with his feverish booze-induced rages.

Although he was educated in economics and was a Junior analyst in London, the best Joey could hope for in the Village was a bank teller job making one third of what he made in the city. It didn’t take long before landing that; where he worked with 3 other heavy set less-than-graceful women, one with a gap the size of a chicklet in her front teeth. Every day he showed up for work, dealt with the familiar penniless villagers, and lost a piece of his soul so he could bring home enough money to pay the mortgage and stop his whole family from drowning in sorrow.

This went on for three years until his youngest brother Dave was finally old enough to get a job. All four boys were now working, which meant Joey could run away again and escape the reality that he so desperately wished to disengage from. His father would die a drunk and hadn’t made any progress on the road to sobriety; he drank booze with the desperation of a man in a hurry to die.

Joey began stashing away money to save for a plane ticket to Toronto, where his cousin Carl lived with his new wife and child. Life in Toronto would surely be better than here. And he wouldn’t have to think about his drunk of a dad and his dim village roots anymore. When he arrived in Toronto, he walked into a bad situation. Carl had been fired for fucking his secretary and his new wife had filed for divorce and taken the kid. Every night Carl took Joey out to get drunk at a dimly lit pub on College Street where the regulars wore lines on their face from hardened lives of broken dreams. They sat and wallowed in their sad lives, exchanging war stories and plotting out their next moves in a city where they could easily get lost. Carl looked at Joey with tears in his eyes and said “what the fuck am I gonna do now mate?”

Joey swigged back his whiskey and remained quiet.  No advice. no words of wisdom and no way to console his hurting cousin. All he could think about was getting back into the game, getting a good job in the financial sector again, and turning his life around. But he knew that this grungy little bar wasn’t gonna get him anywhere, and would be the downfall of him as long as he continued to hang around with Carl.

After a few months of drunken debauchery, the same old stories, the same table at the pub, and the same regulars; Joey packed up and left his cousin without notice. Took an apartment in the East end of the city. An affordable dive with one room; furnished with furniture that looked like it had been picked up from the side of the road, and a floor model television that barely recognized colour. He woke up early every day and delivered resumes to offices all along Bay Street, hoping that he would land a job and begin his ascent to success again. After five weeks of pounding the pavement he was finally offered a position in the mail room at a major investment firm. They told him he would have to work his way into the big leagues. He accepted the position with a glimmer of hope in his eyes and barely a dollar in his old leather wallet.

Joey worked for months in the mailroom wearing his best threads, trying to weasel his way up by getting to know the investors and executives in the firm, occasionally going on coffee and lunch runs. He made friends with one of the analysts at the firm and started drinking with him at lunch time and at happy hour. It wasn’t before long that Joey started  getting a bad reputation at the firm for showing up drunk, stinking like whiskey and cigs, and violating the women in the office with tasteless sexual prowess. He lost his job in the mailroom and found himself once again drunk on the battered old couch in his one bedroom apartment, listening to an infomercial for the magic bullet. He shot back a finger of whiskey before passing out; dreaming of a life he would never come to realize.

Blackout

I sat in my dimly lit eight hundred dollar a month apartment trying to put myself back together. The flashing Red light from my phone indicated that I had messages.

My face felt like somebody punched me hard and my body felt abused. The thoughts from the night prior were spotty at best. I remembered his face. It was gentle, his eyes bright, and his smile, warm and inviting.

Who was he? Where was he? How did I get home?

I listened to my messages in search of a clue, but turned up empty.

My brows furrowed as my brain worked like the little engine that could. My memory was failing me miserably. How depressing.

I headed to the kitchen to pour myself a drink.

Jack Daniels straight up, no ice.

I shot it back and felt the soothing burn in the back of my throat as I slumped down on my kitchen floor with the bottle thinking “shit, I really need to quit drinking.”

The Lost Years

gold-digger

Mom used to always tell me that husbands lasted about as long as a roll of toilet paper. She sort of robbed me of any romanticized view of marriage I might have had. Now on husband number five (Jack) she had successfully transformed herself from a loving, nurturing mom to a cold-hearted money-grubbing bitch.

It was cool in high school being dropped off in a Rolls Royce or limo once in while. But it quickly became old; as did the increase in age of the men she wed.

I still remember the way she used to look at dad. We might not have had much, but we were happy. They were in love, and we made due with what we had. When he cheated on her, everything changed. He took away our happy normal life and I became the bastard child of a gold digging bitter alcoholic. He used to send letters but stopped when mom married husband number two.

We lived in a huge estate home in Fern Hill, but our house was cold. We had a kitchen the size of some people’s apartments, but it never smelled like home cooking.  Mom didn’t like me calling her mom anymore either, she said I was too old to call her mom and that I should instead call her Louise.  So here I was in this giant estate home with an absent mom, no father, grieving my former life. A life in which some would say I had nothing. But truly, I had everything.

One day Jack was reading the stock section of the newspaper as I drank my morning tea. Jack was an all right guy. Man of few words, but very good at investing his money.

“Hey Jack. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure you can doll. What is it?”

“What did you see in my mom?”

Jack laughed heartily “You better be a little quieter asking questions like that dear. She might come in here and beat you over the head with a frying pan.”

I smiled “Seriously though.”

Jack sighed. “Well, it had been less than a year since Margie died and your mom and I met at a singles dance. For the first time in a long time she made me feel happy. Happiness was something that was missing from my life.”

“So… you were lonely?” I asked

Jack sipped his coffee deliberately and smiled at me. “I think we were both lonely. But we both had something the other needed” he said. “Plus we were drunker than a skunk” he joked.

I almost felt bad for Jack. That he was spending the last good years of his life with my mother, who was going to divorce him, take him for half of everything and move on to the next poor sucker.

It embarrassed me that I was even related to her. We literally had nothing in common and said very little to each other on a daily basis. Our relationship was hostile at best. She knew what I thought of her, and couldn’t blame me for it. Any woman who views marriage as disposable as toilet paper, has some serious issues to work out.

One day I came home from my theatre group and found mom half naked on the couch.

“Mom – are you okay?”

She was drunk… Or high. I wasn’t quite sure, since in addition to being a hard-working alcoholic, was also an avid pill popper.

She began to cry “Why did he have to go and cheat on me Mel, why?”

It took me a minute, but I was shocked to realize that she was talking about my dad. She actually still held a torch for him in that cold blooded barely beating heart of hers.

“Mom. Don’t do this to yourself. You’ve moved on. You left him. You remarried four times… You never looked back. Why bother torturing yourself? Let it go.”

“I loved him” she said, as she wiped her mascara dripping eyes.

“So… What about Jack?” I asked

She paused. “He was there…”

This was the first honest thing I had heard come out of my mother’s mouth in years.

“Well, why don’t you stop being this person and start being yourself again mom… I can’t fucking stand calling you Louise. The men you date are old enough to be my grandfather, and you are just a shallow shell of a human being. I want my old mom back. The one who didn’t mind me calling her MOM.”

She broke down crying. Something she rarely did. Long streaks of jet-black mascara lined her face. Her camisole strap fell off of her shoulder as she clutched her snotty tissue.

“I’m a horrible mother” she said

“Yes. You have been. But you don’t have to continue to be” I said

I was shocked at the size of my balls. These were things I had wanted to say to her for years, but had never built up the courage. I guess her weakened state of mind made it easy.

“Is this how you really want to live your life mom?”

She looked down at the hand-woven Indian rug. “No” she said. “No it isn’t.”

**********

Within a few weeks, she filed for divorce (yet again). Only this time things were different. She didn’t replace Jack. She stopped getting drunk every night at pathetic cougar bars, and she sold our estate home. She didn’t even take Jack for everything he had and was still able to be friends with him.

We moved into a modest home in a nice neighbourhood. One where our neighbours were a few feet away, as appose to a few acres away. It felt more normal to me. And our kitchen was even used for cooking sometimes!

Somehow, mom had done a total 360. I didn’t know how or why or even if it was what I said to her that night that changed her. But I was glad to have her back.

For my 18th birthday she booked a trip to Bali for us and we spent a week and a half hanging out. No men, no games, no Louise. Just me and my mom… hanging out. Trying to catch up on ten lost years.

The Vagina Tragedy

drunk_girl2

I was attracted to his perfectly coiffed hair, suave urban hipster style, and his confident sexy strut. All of my coworkers swore he was gay, but something about the way my breasts attracted his attention told me otherwise.

Still… I had to find out for myself.

I spotted him at the photocopier, so I quickly unbuttoned two buttons on my blouse and sauntered over in my pencil skirt, swinging my hips like a saucy little bitch.

“Oh. Hey Kai. What’s happening?”

“Well honey, you’re pretty happening” he winked.

I thought I was going to melt through my panties. “That did sound pretty gay though…” I thought to myself. But then the wink. He clearly winked at me! It wasn’t a friendly wink either. It was an “I’d like to remove your panties” wink.

I know winks!!

I leaned against the photocopier and stared into his eyes for a few seconds until he caught my gaze. I smiled seductively and moved out of the way so he could remove his copies from the machine.

He leaned in “Hey – we should go grab a drink some time.”

“Sure.” I said. “I’d love to. How about tonight?” I smirked.

“Yeah…. Okay” he said, totally catching me off guard.

I froze in disbelief then strolled back to my desk with a permanent grin on my face, screaming inside about how exciting this was. I was so ecstatic I forgot to even pretend to make copies!

There was, however a pressing issue. I had to call Kerry and say “IN YOUR FACE”. She told me I was a fag hag.

I dialed her extension

“What?” she said in a bitchy tone.

“Is that how you answer your phone?”  I asked

“Only to you.”

“Who pissed in your cornflakes this morning? Fuck!”

“Look. Sorry… I just got in a fight with Tim. He’s being an ass.”

“Well… Fine whatever, I just wanted to tell you some exciting news. Kai ISN’T GAY!! We’re going out for a drink tonight!”

“What? Really?” she said “You’re gonna have to fill me in on THAT one! I heard he has a Chihuahua named Twinkle.”

I hung up and decided to go home for the rest of the day so I could begin my ritualistic goddess grooming procedures. There was plucking, waxing, and moisturizing to be done! I cranked the tunes, poured myself some wine and danced around my house as I embarked on my aesthetic endeavors.

At 7 o’clock he rang my doorbell. I looked through the peephole and felt myself growl like a hungry cat. I wanted to rip his Parasuco’s off, club him and drag him back to my cave… But first, I had to be a lady. At least for an hour.

I swung the door open and raped him with my eyes.

He smiled and said “Those gals are perfect” referring to my tits. I locked my door, turned into him and cupped his package “Well, we’ll just have to see how you fare”.

So much for being a lady.

Dirty girl it is.

We had appetizers at the bar, working sexual innuendo into our conversation as often as possible. We laughed at each others witty but ballsy style. He invited the gawks of every female in bar, all envious of his deliciousness.

I think it was around 11:30 when I felt myself getting sloppy drunk. He mentioned his dog and I blurted out “Your dog’s name isn’t fucking Twinkle is it?”

He glared at me, bit his lip and said “as a matter of fact it is, why?”

The bar was sort of rocking side to side and Kai occasionally had two heads. One martini too many me thinks. “Better shut my mouth or no cocky for me tonight” I thought.

Now my memory might be slightly askew but I think it was around midnight when I swore he rammed his tongue down another dude’s throat and introduced him as his partner. Then, another guy showed up. More drinks… and well, to make a long story short, I woke up THIS MORNING in the other guys bed!

No Kai… No twinkle… No deliciousness. Just a random who I don’t even remember shagging.

When I got to work I immediately stormed over to Kai’s desk. He giggled, grabbed my arm and dragged me into the lunch room ‘So… How was it last night?” he asked impatiently.

“You know… YOU’RE A FUCKING COCK TEASE!” I shouted.

Rejection at the speed of Porn

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She figured that the best way to capture a man was to work out compulsively and tan her body until it resembled an old leather boot. She wasn’t much for talking about the issues of the world, philosophy, or anything to do with spirituality and instead preferred conversations about shopping, working out, and sex.

“Why can’t I find a decent man?” she asked her sister one day

“Maybe they’re just intimidated by you” her sister said

“Yeah that’s probably it.”

One day she saw an ad in the paper for a speed dating event in the bar down the street. With nothing to lose and everything to gain she decided she would go and do her best to open herself up to the possibility of love.

She showed up to the event wearing her best tight mini skirt and bust endowing halter. Her legs were freshly shaved, her toe nails nicely manicured, and she had a brand new pair of black pumps on. Men smiled at her, and she smiled back. The organizer quickly ran through the rules, and the event began.

Rick

“So what do you do?” he asked

“I work in the adult entertainment industry.” she declared

His face changed. She quickly took the focus off of herself and asked “What do you do?”

“I’m a commercial lawyer”

The following minute or two got awkward. Rick rudely got up and went to the bathroom.

Brad

The next man she met was a scruffy looking guy named Brad. He smiled at her and said “You’re smokin’!”

She gave her best giggle and said “Thanks. You’re sweet.”

“What are you looking for?” he asked her.

“I don’t really know.” she said. “A nice guy who’s interested in more than sex.”

“What do you do?” he asked

“I work in the adult entertainment industry” she said

Brad laughed heartily and said “but you want someone who ISN’T focused on sex?”

“Well… yeah” she said “Why?”

“Shouldn’t you maybe change your career then?”

She stared at him blankly and finished her martini. “You can go now” she said. He left the table and went over to join his buddy at the bar. They both laughed and looked over at her.

Jason

Jason sat there sweating silently avoiding all eye contact. He kept compulsively taking sips of his drink and then clearing his throat. “Okay… Shall I start?” she asked

“Uh. Sure. Okay. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” said Jason

“Why are you here?” she asked

“Well, I guess I just don’t seem to have time to find a woman and I thought this might be a good opportunity to connect with someone who shares my interests.”

“What are your interests?” she asked

“Umm well I am a credit analyst, but really my passion is medieval reenactments. I am a member of several medieval clubs in the city and do a number of events. I also really like science fiction movies and have a collection of over 200 DVDs all alphabetized. Some of them still in their original packaging.”

“Cool” she said with a glazed over look in her eyes. “Listen, I have to go to the little girls room.”

BJ

BJ was 2 minutes late sitting down for their speed date.

“Sorry I’m late” he said. “Just had to have a quick puff”

“Oh you smoke?” she asked

“Not cigarettes” he smirked

“Oh” she said surprised “Like a lot?”

“I don’t consider pot to be a drug” he said. “It has huge medicinal ingredients and is way better for you than alcohol. Some of my friends get stupid drunk and I just like to smoke a bit of the reef and I’m good. I smoke a few times a day. The first joint of the morning is always best.”

She sat there silently smiling, watching him sway to the background music. Something else was going on in his head.

David

He was perfect. Hansome, built, stylish, and a great smile.

They flirted immediately. He moved his chair close to hers and touched her hand while looking into her eyes.

She giggled and said “Wow, I wasn’t expecting this”

“Expecting what?” he asked

“To meet someone… I don’t know. Like you.” she said

“You think I’m hot?” he asked

“To say the least” she said. “What about me? You like?”

“I like” he said. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

They went back to David’s place and had some wine and small talk, which mostly consisted of sexual inuendos and overt remarks about what they were going to do to each other.

In the morning she woke up with a smile on her face and looked beside her. His side of the bed was empty. She threw on one of his t-shirts and strolled into his kitchen hoping to find him making her breakfast or coffee. Instead, she found a note on the counter that said:

“Thanks for the great night. You are a sexy little vixen. Had to run. See you again soon!”

He didn’t leave his number or ask for hers. She found that very strange and began searching his apartment for anything that might have his phone number on it. After twenty minutes she decided that perhaps it was best if she left hers and trust that he would call her. After all, he did say “see you again soon”. That had to mean something.

Every day for the next week she thought about David and obsessively checked her voicemail. By the second week she started to think that maybe he had misplaced the piece of paper, or maybe he was out of town.

Three weeks went by. He didn’t call.

She quit her job.

Crazy Bitch

PaintedGirl

She sat on her couch staring blankly at the muted television playing reruns of Seinfeld. She could hear waves of mania whispering in her ear, feel it piercing into her bloodstream, pulsing through her body like an oncoming freight train. Now, all she had to do was wait. It was coming…

She smirked at the TV as she thought about what it would be like to rub butter all over George’s bald head. The visual image of this caused her to laugh hysterically until tears rolled down her cheek and her stomach hurt. Her heart was starting to pound out of her chest. She had to get up and go do something. Sitting on the couch just wouldn’t do, not with this type of energy, she had to get out… she needed to explore.

Feeling pretty good about herself, she put on some bright Red lipstick and a short mini skirt then headed off to do some shopping at Holt Renfrew, somewhere she normally never shopped. She tried on a dozen outfits until she found the one that was just right. Without looking at the price she ripped the tags off and walked out wearing the new outfit, her old one sitting in a trash can outside the dressing room.

The store security chased her out onto the street.

“Ma’am STOP right there NOW!”

She turned around with a smoke dangling from her mouth and a raised eyebrow “What?”

“You didn’t pay for that.”

“Oh” she said unsurprised.

She walked back into the store and threw her credit card down onto the counter.

“That will be $345.”

“Sure. Whatev!”

Dressed to the nines she headed back to her car. She cranked Peaches “Fuck the Pain Away” so loud that the bass rattled her windows and sent vibrations through her body. Disgusted onlookers glared at her harshly when they heard the nasty lyrics proudly pouring from her Honda Civic.

People just weren’t driving fast enough. “A bunch of fucking slow motherfuckers” she whispered under her breath. She laid into her horn getting the finger from several drivers around her. She decided to turn down a one way street (going the opposite direction) to make things faster and pulled up directly outside of a pub with loud music and drunk chicks hanging over the patio balcony.

“Perfect” she said.

Illegally parked on the sidewalk she headed inside.

She opened the door and strutted her ass over to the bar, walking with the swagger of a porn star about to collect the award for Best Fuck. Men stared at her hypnotically as she slid her body from side to side smirking with her pouty Red lips.

A loud obnoxious corporate guy shouted “you’re fucking hot”. She stopped in front of him and grabbed his tie, pulling him close to her, then licked his lips and the tip of his nose. She laughed and turned away from him as he watched her walk away, bewildered and turned on, but a little scared.

She sat by herself at the end of the bar. “I’ll have a double shot of Jack Daniels on the rocks” she shouted to the bartender.

“Sure thing” he said

She sat there for an hour or so and drank 4 double shots of JD, turned down 3 offers to buy her a drink, got 6 dirty looks, and stole 1 wallet. A hot Blonde woman strolled up beside her and asked “this seat taken?”

She smirked “it is now”

“I’m Celeste” the girl said, extending her hand

“Trix”

She swayed back and forth to the music and watched Celeste bent over the bar ordering two drinks; one for each of them. Celeste was wearing impossibly tight jeans, a slinky tube top, and some very nice stilettos. After some small talk and a few more drinks the two girls headed to the dance floor and made heads spin when they began dancing provocatively with each other.

“Lets get out of here” said Celeste

They went back to Trix’s house. The TV was still on mute and all the lights in the house were on. The fridge door was slightly open and the phone was off the hook. They sat on the couch for a few minutes and discussed the art in Trix’s living room.

“Do you wanna do something crazy?” asked Trix

“Always”

“Lets go downstairs and do some painting. I have this thing with being naked and rolling around in paint, then throwing myself at a canvas. It’s awesome and it makes for some pretty crazy art. You’ll love it. Come on.”

The next morning Trix woke up and looked beside her. Celeste was naked with crusty Red, Black and Pink paint covering most of her body. She looked down at her hands, they too were covered in paint.

Her bed was smeared with paint, the sheets would now be drop cloths.

She sat there with wide eyes surveying the carnage of her bed. “Sex, paint, and alcohol… That’s what happened” she thought to herself. Suddenly she burst out laughing waking Celeste, who opened her eyes smiling. She grabbed Trix and pulled her close “You’re a crazy bitch” she said kissing her on the forehead.

“I know” said Trix “I know.”