“You know she has no clue, right? If she found out, the friendship would be done. She’d freak out, that’s how she is. Every time you’d go to hug her or kiss her hello, she’d be thinking that you were making a play and pretty soon neither of you will be able to be around the other. It’s been too many years and too much secrecy. You need to let her go, Allison, or you need to tell her. Either way, I think it’s over,” Kim hissed at me, poisonous words I didn’t want to hear.
I never should have told her, never should have confided. The crush I’d had on Brooke for so many years had slowly but surely escalated to the point where I couldn’t even look at her. My late 30s were turning into a sort of sweet torture. Divorces galore had ravaged our little tight-knit group, sparing no one, Brooke and I included. She had caught her husband with his accountant and my husband had decided he preferred the company of a 20 year old over mine. I was devastated; I had never seen it coming.
So there we all were, tossed back into a dating scene that I didn’t really enjoy. Brooke and I would often double-date or make arrangements to meet up at the local hot spots for people our age. My feelings for her had been dormant during my marriage; after the divorce, they came back with a vengeance. I didn’t want to acknowledge them, didn’t want to deal with them. During this particular ladies’ night at our local watering hole, I spilled everything to Kim, who had been shocked at first and then realistic. I will never do Patron shots again, I swear.
“You’ve never been as important to her as she is to you. How many times have you been a back-up? And not just to her guy-of-the-minute, either. Remember two weeks ago when we all made plans to go to the beach for your birthday? At the last second, she got that invite to go out of town and left us high and dry. She expected you to understand because it was her friends from college and it was the only weekend she could get together with them. She knew that, out of all of us, you would let it go because that’s how you are when it comes to her. She knows she can do whatever she wants; she can do no wrong when it comes to you. If she finds out that you’ve got feelings for her, you’re doomed. She may not like it, but she’ll make sure to play it to her full advantage before breaking off the friendship with you.”
I sat there at our table, littered with beer bottles and shot glasses, listening to her say words that seared my soul. I watched as Brooke danced with our other friends; she moved like a fluid dream. I knew the truth that was in Kim’s words, but I didn’t want to admit it. Brooke could be heartless, but I always swore there was a softness and tenderness in her that wanted to eventually surface.
“She’s self-centered, Alli, and you know it. She’s a one-way street when it comes to friendships. How come you remember everything that matters to her, but she never seems to recall anything that’s important to you? It’s all about her and her issues and problems. Unless it’s something that affects her directly, it’s not worth her time. You’re not worth the time,” she said harshly, driving tears to my eyes.
“Stop it. Stop it right now. This hurts, Kim. It hurts like hell and you’re not helping. I’m not blind, okay? I know what she is. I know how she is. I can’t control my feelings; don’t you think if I could, I would? It kills to see her be all nice and sweet one minute and then cold and dismissing the next. She keeps me off-balance all the time and I just want this to end. I don’t want this anymore. I haven’t been sleeping, I’m anxious all the time and it’s affecting my performance at work. If I lose her friendship, I lose it. I just can’t keep going like this or else I’m gonna end up in a mental hospital somewhere,” I rubbed impatiently at the tears and took another Patron shot (so much for never having another one of those).
“So what are you going to do? How about you wait for her to get drunker and then go dance with her? She’ll be blitzed in another ten minutes, she’s been drinking non-stop since we got here. Go on, go for it. Maybe you’ll get lucky,” she snickered, being unnecessarily cruel.
“What’s your freakin’ problem, Kim? Are you getting off on this? Why are you being so damn mean? I trusted you and this is what I get, grief! I never should casino siteleri have said anything, especially not to you, apparently!”
I got up from the table and pushed my way through the crowd to the dance floor. My friends gave me a drunken welcome and made room for me. Brooke ended up in front of me and she wrapped her arms around my waist as the DJ started up an old 80s reggae tune about red, red wine. We moved our hips to the beat, her thumbs hooked through my belt loops. Her reddish hair swayed in perfect rhythm to our movements, her greenish eyes looking into mine. She gave me a teasing smile as she pulled me closer to her and continued the slow, seductive moves. Yep, she was drunk, all right. I, however, was just bordering on tipsy so I was in better control.
“Why didn’t you come dance with me before?” she whispered under the music.
“I was talking to Kim,” I answered, wishing she would move away a bit.
“About?” she asked, swiveling her hips against mine.
“Just random stuff,” I looked over to the table and saw Kim glaring, her hand wrapped around her drink.
“Let me guess…I bet it was about me,” she giggled and pulled my chin so I was facing her again.
“Ding, ding, we have a winner,” I said, trying to keep my tone light and casual.
“So how much did she bad-talk me to you? Did she do the whole ‘she’s a selfish, self-centered bitch who doesn’t give a crap about you’ routine? God, she’s predictable,” she laughed out loud at the expression on my face.
“How did….” I got no further as she pulled me closer.
“Because,” she was whispering again, “She’s been pissed at me since I turned her down about two weeks ago. We were partying over at the beach and she made a pass at me. I told her to forget it, that she wasn’t my type.” More giggling. “Ever since then, she’s been on a rampage. But whatever, she needs to deal with it.”
“Are you kidding?” the shock in my voice made her laugh even harder.
“Nope. I told her that I have a thing for darker hair and blue eyes; I don’t really go for blondes, guys or girls,” she was on a roll, laughing louder now.
I have dark hair. Care to guess my eye color?
I didn’t say anything for a minute, letting the information sink in. Her jubilant expression faltered at my silence and doubt crept across her features. The song came to an end and we broke apart, neither looking at the other. I was still numb from the revelation and I didn’t know what to do when she turned and left the dance floor abruptly.
I came to my senses slowly, but once I did, I went straight to the table where she and Kim were in a loudly-escalating argument, our other friends beginning to gather around and wonder what exactly was going on.
“Cut it out, both of you,” I demanded, trying to ignore the fact that the Patron shots were catching up to me.
“Why did you tell her all that, you freakin’ bitch!” Brooke disregarded me and verbally went after Kim with a vengeance. Kim snarled something back, but at this point, there was a crowd gathering and I started feeling uncomfortable. I pulled at Brooke’s arm, telling her to relax and to come on, let’s get out of here. She and Kim kept yelling at each other the entire time I dragged her out of the club.
Once outside, the cool night breeze was a welcome respite from the intensely hot and hostile environment in the club. She kept stuttering on and on about Kim’s cattiness and I made the appropriate soothing responses. We got to my car in the parking lot and I told her to get in; she had arrived earlier that evening with another one of our friends.
She got in, slammed the door and leaned her head back on the leather seat, her eyes closed, her breathing hard. To my surprise, I saw tears slowly making their way down her cheeks.
“Brooke?” I asked uncertainly. “Are you all right? What’s wrong? Who cares what Kim says? Forget about it.”
“I didn’t want you to find out like this!” she cried out, her eyes half-opening. “I wanted to talk to you in private, not make a scene in a club, for God’s sake! Jesus, I can’t do anything right!”
She broke out into full-fledged sobs and I just sat there, open-mouthed. She was bent over in the seat now, her body wracked with emotion. Her hands went to cover her face and she screamed into them, an canlı casino anguished sound that scared me. I pulled her to me and made shushing noises. I waited for her to quiet down a bit before I started the car and headed to her house.
Thankfully, traffic was light and we got to her house in under twenty minutes. She had stopped crying by the time we pulled up to her driveway. She looked over at me hesitantly, almost as if she was asking permission to speak. I looked back at her, not knowing what to say or do. She inclined her head towards the front door. “Wanna come in? I really need to talk to you.”
I didn’t say anything, just got out of the car. I stood next to her as she opened the door and followed her in, watching as she flipped on lights. She headed to the kitchen and pulled open the door to the fridge. She emerged with two bottles of beer and silently handed me one; I was in no mood to turn it down.
We moved over to the living room and sat down on the comfy couch. She kicked off her shoes, put her feet up on the living room table and took a long, deep gulp from the bottle. I waited, wondering what she was going to say.
“I take you for granted and I know it. I treat you like total garbage sometimes and I do it on purpose. I try as hard as I can to make you hate me so I don’t have to deal with these emotions that I don’t understand, but you keep on being my friend. I’m nice to you when I’ve had too much to drink because that’s the only time I can be nice and then just blame it on the liquor later. I’ve set up this whole elaborate way of existing because I don’t know how else to handle what is so very wrong with me,” she said, looking down at the bottle.
“Are you talking to your beer or to me?” I said, trying to coax a smile. She turned her head to look at me, but she wouldn’t rise to the bait.
“Joke all you want if that’s all it is to you, I don’t care anymore,” she said, draining the beer and putting it down on the table. She got up from the couch and headed back into the kitchen and I got up quickly to follow her.
She headed straight to get another beer, but I stood behind her and pushed the door shut. “You don’t need that,” I said softly. “I was trying to get you to smile, is all. It’s not a joke to me, either.”
Her head had dropped and her hands were covering her face again. I turned her around, wrapped my arms around her and just held her. She went kind of limp and I knew that the beer she had just chugged down had pushed her over her limit.
I draped her right arm over my shoulders and half-dragged, half-walked her to her room. With my free hand, I pulled down the covers and then I turned to get her into her bed. She clumsily pulled off her shirt, leaving her in a beautiful black lace bra. She clamored onto the bed and curled up on her side. I went to shut off the lights and leave when she called out to me.
I swallowed…hard. This wasn’t exactly working out like I had thought it would, but best laid plans and all that, right? I switched the light off and returned to the bed, sitting on the edge and undoing my sandal straps. I lay down on my back, watching the moonlight filter in through the blinds. I can’t sleep in a totally dark room; I need to see the moon as I drift off.
As my eyes started to slip close, a combination of the amount of liquor I drank and all the high drama of the evening, Brooke rolled over onto her back, reached for my left arm and rolled back onto her side, causing me to curl up behind her. She entwined her fingers with mine and settled our hands on her bare tummy. She didn’t say a word and I certainly had nothing to contribute, so I just waited for my accelerated heartbeat to go back to normal. It took a while, but I finally fell asleep.
It felt like just minutes, but surely it was longer than that.
Something was tickling my face. Drowsily, I pushed away at the annoyance, but it came back immediately. I slowly slit open my eyes to find Brooke’s face inches above mine, her long strands brushing my face. Her eyes were completely focused on mine and no words were spoken nor were they necessary.
I pulled her down to me and she came willingly, her lips already moist. They brushed over mine softly at first, a slight rub, almost a question. The second touch kaçak casino was still gentle, but far more sure of itself as she sank her body into mine. My hands went to that beautiful hair as my eyes slipped shut again, wanting to completely lose myself in the kiss. My tongue peeked out simultaneously with hers and our mouths opened a bit to allow them to play. She gave a soft sigh and brought a hand to the side of my face, stroking my cheek. Her fingers than trailed down my neck, slipping gently across the front of the shirt I still had on. She caressed me through the shirt, going even slower after she realized she was getting my breasts’ attention. I murmured encouragement into her mouth and she reached down to pull up the shirt. We sat up together so she could take it off me and, once it was gone, we were entwined again, loving the feel of each other’s skin.
She pressed me back down on the bed, her lips never leaving mine. Her fingers trailed lazily across my breasts and then down my bare middle, occasionally slipping into my jeans to stroke my hip. This was seduction at its finest, slow and sensuous.
My arms were around her neck, pulling her deeper into the kiss, when I felt her undo the button on my jeans. I then heard the familiar sound of a zipper making its way down.
“They gotta come off, baby,” she whispered. “I have a lot to make up for and I think I know how.”
Without a word, I lifted my hips from the bed and she slid the jeans off me easily. She settled back against me, lips returning to mine, and her right hand started to journey up the inside of my thigh.
She teased me pitilessly. She stroked my thighs, allowed her fingers to slip across the satiny front of my new high-cut bikini. She eventually wandered inside the bikini itself, but contented herself with easing her fingers along the top and sides, going nowhere near my aching center.
“Patience,” she whispered when I whimpered. “I’ll make it worth the wait, I promise.”
She continued her relentless teasing, not caring that I was arching off the bed now, begging for her touch. My senses were on fire; the wetness between my legs felt like a river.
She obviously noticed.
“Someone’s ready,” she cooed, as she finally delivered on her promise, slipping and rubbing her fingers against, inside and all over me.
I exploded against her, no build-up, no warning. The climax hit and I screamed out to anyone who would hear me. I stopped breathing, my heart stopped beating and I ceased to exist for what felt like years. I was floating, effortlessly gliding through the universe. I had read about astral projection, when your soul leaves your body; I think I experienced it that night.
Almost painfully, I came back down to earth, not wanting the sensations to end. My breathing was still labored and I felt sweat on my face and bare belly. Dear God, what had she done? Where had she sent me?
I opened my eyes and she was back above me, a warm smile on her face. She came down to my lips and playfully gave them a soft, quick lick, followed by sensuous nibbles. I started groaning again.
“Baby, don’t! I can’t do this again,” I breathed out. “You’re trying to kill me, I know it!”
“You are going to do it again,” she whispered back, her wondrous hand starting to explore again. “You are going to do it again and again until I’ve made up for every crappy thing I’ve ever done to you. And then you’re going to do it to me, all night. Over and over again. Until we’re even.”
“And then?” I rasped out, as she found me again. She smiled mischievously and lowered her lips to my neck, giving me delicious little bites in time with her strokes.
“And then maybe we’ll get some sleep. Or maybe not,” she said, as my own hands finally reached her jeans and undid the button. I slipped my own hand inside, finding her just as delectably wet as I was. She impatiently kicked off the jeans to give me better access and she crushed her lips back to mine as I slipped inside and got to know her better. We hit our climax together, arching against each other, never being able to get close enough.
We broke apart, gasping, sweaty and deliriously happy. We turned our heads to look at each other and giggled out loud from the sheer release of it all. She scooted over and wrapped me up again.
“You better not snore,” I said sternly, as I started falling back asleep.
“If I do, wake me up. I’ll make it up to you,” she whispered against my shoulder as she gave it one last kiss before drifting off herself.