We headed south in Lisbeth’s little red convertible. She drove, Laura sat beside her, and I was crammed into the narrow back seat. The top was down. Above us the hot, hazy night sky seemed to glow faintly. Only a scattering of stars were visible through the city lights. Behind us — I kept glancing back — the pastel glow of the Miami skyline peeked above the buildings that whipped by.
Nobody said anything. With the car speeding and the wind rushing by, I couldn’t have heard anyone anyhow.
Soon we arrived at the brightly lit movie multiplex. After we drove past the place and saw its long lines snaking in front of the box office, Lisbeth pulled into a parking garage down the street and climbed the ramps to the very top level where there were lots of empty spots. She found one near the stairs and parked.
“Well, we’re here,” she said when she stopped the motor. Then she began to close the top.
“Can’t I get out first?” I asked. Getting in with the top closed had been difficult.
She held the button down and the top kept closing. “Deal with it.”
“Lisbeth, geeze,” Laura said. She turned to me. “Come on, I’ll help you get out.” She slid out, worked the levers on the seat until it popped forward, and then reached in and grasped my hands. I squirmed as she pulled me from the car.
Lisbeth got out, straightened her skirt, adjusted the scrunchy holding up her big blond ponytail, and then leaned back into the car to grab her purse.
She did all of that very slowly, especially the part when she leaned down, giving a group of boys who had just arrived in a big black SUV a nice little show. When they noticed, and they could not fail to notice, they made idiotic hooting noises. Lisbeth glanced at them, glanced back at us, and then said, “Well, girls, it’s show time.”
The boys popped out of the SUV and headed our way, strutting and laughing and adjusting their colorful polo shirts.
There were three of them.
Laura stood by me and touched my hand. “Oh fuck,” she whispered. Then she said out loud, “Lisbeth, we’re gonna be late.”
Lisbeth watched the boys. Then she turned back to us. “Aw, hell, movie-schmovie.” Soon the boys arrived and surrounded her. She faced the tallest. “Hey, I’m Lisbeth. What are your names?” Laura and I were still on the other side of the car.
They gave their names. She turned to us. “Well, get over here.”
“May as well humor her for a bit,” Laura said. “Come on.”
We went around the car to join the boys.
The boys sorted themselves. The tallest, who was also the best looking and the one who had been driving the SUV, seemed to claim Lisbeth. The other two, the lesser boys, just seemed to accept that. They drifted away from him and met us as we rounded the back of the car.
Then, after they saw us, saw my scar — and I could see that on their faces, the look — they sorted again. The middle boy, still good looking enough with designer sunglasses and expensive shoes, shoved the other boy toward me and claimed Laura.
The final boy, the least of them, stood before me. He gave an awkward smile. “Hi, I’m Marcio.”
He was short with a soft face and small, close-set eyes.
“Hi Marcio.”
“So,” he said, “what movie are you guys gonna see?”
I told him.
“Oh, a chick flick.”
I shrugged.
“Well, why don’t you all come with us?”
He told us the movie they were going to see, a really stupid action thing with explosions and guys with muscles.
“Nah.”
I cast a pleading look to Laura. She smiled back. Then she touched the wrist of her boy. “Nice to meet you, but we’re gonna be late for our movie.” She walked over and stood next to me.
During this, Lisbeth had taken her boy by the hand, and they were standing close to each other in front of her car. He whispered something into her ear.
“Hey guys,” she said to us, “let’s go with them and hang out or something.”
I grabbed and squeezed Laura’s hand. I whispered, “Please. No.”
She squeezed my hand back. “Liz! This was supposed to be just us girls.”
“Ah, but things change,” Lisbeth said. Then she grabbed her guy’s hand and turned to him.
Laura’s posture slumped. Lisbeth, with her eyes fixed on her boy, went on, “Really, Laura, you have to be ready for these little things in life. These special accidents.” She released her boy’s hand and put her arms around his neck. “We were set for a stupid, boring movie with your boring friend. Now we get to do, well, something much more fun.”
Her boy got a big gin on his face and slipped his arms around her waist. Then he cast a quick glance at his two friends. They looked at him — and Lisbeth — for a bit, seeming to hesitate. Then they turned and faced us. We stood away from them and held hands.
Then, suddenly, Lisbeth pulled her boy’s head to hers and kissed him on the mouth, a long, wet kiss. Slurp. We heard it from where we stood. Her boy seemed surprised for a second. But only a second. Soon he relaxed and leaned into the thing. He slid his hands down to her bottom, raised her skirt, and squeezed her big, round ass.
Then, after a few moments of sloppy kissing and clumsy groping, Lisbeth broke from the kiss and turned to the other two boys. “Well,” she said, “what are you two waiting for? Get yourself a girl.”
“Jesus, Liz!” Laura said. I stepped back as the two boys advanced.
Laura’s arrived first. When he got near he smiled and reached for her hand. She tried to pull back, but he was faster than her. He caught hold of her one hand. Then he caught the other. Next he pulled her to him, her chest to his chest. She squirmed and twisted, but he was strong.
Next Marcio arrived before me, but he didn’t try to touch, no, not yet, not right away. He dropped his eyes and stood near.
“No, Marcio, I’m sorry. But no.”
He glanced up at me from beneath his dark brow. “I think you’re really hot. I mean, I don’t care about your face. Your ass is so juicy.”
Laura still struggled. She called out, “Let me go, asshole!”
I heard Lisbeth laugh. “Oh come on Laura, why are you fighting this?”
Marcio reached for my hand.
I’m a skinny girl. I don’t look strong, or tough, or like much of anything really. But I ride my bike every day.
I kicked Marcio as hard as I could in the balls.
He squealed and dropped. It took the other two a second to figure out what had happened, but when they did, they each stepped away from their girl and began to laugh.
“Holy shit! Goal!” Laura’s boy said.
At least he wasn’t holding her anymore. She rushed away from him and over to me.
Marcio lay on the ground, held his crotch, and whimpered.
“Wow,” Lisbeth’s boy said. “She’s a little spitfire, huh?”
“What the fuck!” Lisbeth said. “Amy! What the hell is wrong with you?”
I didn’t say anything. Laura did, though.
“Lisbeth, you fucking bitch! This was supposed to be just us!”
“Yeah? What? A boring movie with your more than boring fucking friend!” She turned to her boy. “Little ball-buster there is just tagging along. I promise, she is not my friend.”
Laura stood motionless and stared at Lisbeth. Her hands were balled up into fists. Her boy — formerly her boy, so briefly — went and helped Marcio sit up. Marcio groaned and then muttered, “Fucking bitch!”
Lisbeth’s boy popped his butt up onto the hood of her car and watched with an amused expression.
Then Laura grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s get outta here.”
She led me away toward the stairway. She walked fast. When we got halfway she began to walk even faster.
“I can’t fucking believe her,” she said.
After we got to the stairs, and as we descended the first flight, Laura began to cry.
“Go on, I’ll meet you downstairs,” she said as the first tears began to show. Then she sat down on the steps and covered her face. The sobs began. Just briefly, she got control enough to say, “Go. Please. I don’t want you to see me like this.” Then, more tears, more sobs.
I sat down next to her and put my arm over her shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.” I pulled her to me, her head to my chest. “You can cry in front of me.”
Her hair felt so soft as I stroked it. Her little skirt — yeah, I looked even while she cried — was so pretty. Our bare thighs touched.
After a bit she looked up at me. Her breathing had slowed. The tears were still there, but not coming so fast. She sniffled and rubbed her eyes.
Those tears, they were the price she paid for me. I brushed one away, one sweet tear. Then I said, “Laura, I didn’t ask for this — ”
“Oh, Amy — ”
“No — let me speak. I didn’t ask for this. And, really, I don’t expect it. If you wanna run back to Lisbeth Monday and make up, it’ll be fine.”
“Amy — ”
“We’ll stay lunch buddies. I won’t hold it against you. No, wait — let me go on.”
She sat back and seemed ready to listen.
“But if you don’t go back to them, if you want to be my friend, really a friend — and I guess I’ll be your only friend, they’ll never accept me — if you do that, blow them all off, then, yes.” Her eyes got wide. “Yes, and yes, and yes.”
“Amy.”
I tried looking at her face, into her eyes — so loving. The long streaks of mascara only made her that much more dear. But I couldn’t. I looked away from those intense eyes, out from the garage over a damp alley to the filthy cement wall of a warehouse beyond.
But I didn’t stop holding her.
An hour later we found ourselves sitting in a Denny’s across the table from a pair of strikingly beautiful goth fetish girls. I’d never met any goth fetish girls before.
It turns out that, for two teen girls in skimpy skirts, the only people at a move theater willing to drive them home were horny guys who were very candid about what they wanted. And also, for us that night, Miss Fiorella and her young friend Delilah proved willing to drive us home.
Miss Fiorella, who wouldn’t give us any other name, nor her age — but I guessed that she was in her early thirties — sat across from us wearing a skin-tight red catsuit that ran all the way up her sleek, sexy body. On her hands she wore long black gloves. On her feet, tall black leather boots with absurdly narrow heels, lots of stitching, and crimson laces. When she moved her outfit shuffled and squeaked.
Her hair, I guessed, was no less unnatural than the rest. It was a deep fire-engine red and tied back into a pony tail. She had high cheek bones, a full mouth — lips as red as the rest of her, so pretty — and wide green eyes.
Yeah, I couldn’t stop looking at her, casting her shy little glances — I’m sure that I blushed. I was amazed.
Delilah was a pretty girl also. She had black hair in ringlets, alabaster skin, and wore a lacy black dress with ribbons. On her feet she wore tall, cruel looking shoes. Around her neck, a dog collar. When we asked she told us she was seventeen.
“So girls,” Miss Fiorella said, “how did you end up in this mess?”
At that moment Laura had her compact out and was trying to do something, anything, to fix her makeup. She glanced up at Miss Fiorella, then at me.
“We were out with a friend,” I said, “and she ditched us for some boys.”
Miss Fiorella arched her brow. “And those boys, they wouldn’t bring you along?”
“We didn’t want to go along. We didn’t like them.”
At that moment I put my arm around Laura.
Slowly, a deep smile crossed Miss Fiorella’s face. Delilah giggled and said, “Awesome.”
Laura finished with her makeup, although I can’t say it made much difference, and put away her compact.
“So, you two are a couple?” Miss Fiorella asked.
Laura sat rigid and gave her a blank look. “Something like that.” Slowly, I ran my fingers down Laura’s arm. When I reached halfway, she reached across with her other hand and took mine.
Her expression softened. Miss Fiorella watched us. Delilah picked up the menu and thumbed through it. “Let’s all get French toast,” she said.
I felt my tummy rumble. “I like French toast.”
Delilah looked up at me. “I know! Isn’t it the best.” I felt her foot touch my foot. “I like you,” she said.
Miss Fiorella grinned and cast a sidelong glance at Delilah. Then she touched the girl’s hand. “Sweetie,” she said, “be patient. Let’s get to know our new friends a little bit better.” She turned to us. “So, how long have you two been together?”
“It’s complicated,” Laura said.
I said, “Well, technically, just today.”
“I see,” Miss Fiorella said. “Well, then, have you had sex yet?”
Just then, the waitress arrived. Laura plucked up her menu and began to shuffle through it.
“Do you need more time?” the waitress asked.
“No!” Laura said. “Don’t go, I’ll find something.”
“I think we’ll have four French toasts,” Miss Fiorella said. “And water all around. Will that be fine, Laura? Oh, and coffee for me, black, and does anyone want sodas or anything?”
Laura set down her menu. “French toast is fine. And a coke.”
“Same here,” I said. Delilah nodded. Then she touched my foot again.
When the waitress left, Miss Fiorella looked at Laura and said, “So, I guess that’s a no.”
Laura looked away.
“Miss Fiorella,” I said, “this is all very new to us. So, yeah, I mean, we haven’t done much, some kissing. Mostly, we just like to be together. And, well, I don’t think Laura wants to talk about it.”
A soft smile crossed Miss Fiorella’s face. “That’s fine.” Then she turned to Delilah, who suddenly looked glum. “Sorry dear, no party tonight.” The girl shrugged and frowned. She didn’t touch my foot again.
“You see, girls,” Miss Fiorella said, turning back to us, “Sometimes Delilah and I have girls over for little parties, y’know, sex parties.” Laura bit her lip and looked down. Miss Fiorella went on. “But they can get pretty advanced. Not for beginners.”
“I could teach them fine,” Delilah said.
Miss Fiorella squeezed her hand and gave her a kind look. “I’m sure you could, sweetie.” Back to us. “But, I would never let someone like you two come. Well, not for your first time. No, your first time should be special, together, like, just the two of you taking as long as you want. So, Laura…” She waited until Laura looked up. “You don’t have be nervous or anything. Let’s have a nice little meal, and then we’ll get you home safe.” Laura nodded. “Can I get a smile?”
Laura still frowned. But then she said, “No smile. But still, thanks for helping us. And thanks for being nice.”
Soon the food came. It was dense, sticky, and full of sugar.
After we finished, and while we were waiting for the check, Miss Fiorella looked at me, a long, steady gaze, and said, “Amy, can I say something to you, something kind of serious?”
I set down the fork I had been holding. “Uh, yeah…”
“I think you’re beautiful.”
Her head was still. Her eyes were fixed on me.
I glanced at Laura, then Delilah. Laura poked at the ice in her empty glass with her straw. Delilah smiled.
“Okay, thanks,” I said.
“You’re face, it’s very beautiful.”
I heard Laura breath out sharply.
“Miss Fiorella — ” I said.
“No, quiet. Your scar, it’s also beautiful.”
She kept looking. Delilah squirmed in her seat and sucked on her bottom lip.
Then Miss Fiorella said, “Delilah also has scars. Many scars.” She reached and touched the girl’s arm. “They’re beautiful too. Someday, when you’re ready, I’d like to show them to you.”
I looked at Delilah, who looked back. We kept looking. She gazed at me with her wide, dark eyes.
When the waitress arrived with the check, Laura said, “No! Wait! Don’t go, I’ll pay, I have cash.”
Later, Laura and I stood before her house and watched Miss Fiorella and Delilah drive away in their sleek black car. In my hands I held a calling card. On that card was an elegant line drawing of a dark flower. Beneath that, an email address.
I slipped that card into my purse. Then I said, “Well, that was a strange night.”
Laura snorted. “No shit.”
I turned to her. “So, what now? Wanna go inside?”
“Uh — ” She stepped away. “No — I mean, I’ll see you Monday.”
“Laura — ” I reached and took her hand. “Come on, I don’t wanna go home now.” Her eyes darted about, this way and that. Her gaze seemed to settle on many things, but none of them me. “Is something wrong? We could kiss more.”
That got her to look at me. “Amy, it’s late. I’ve been through hell and look like shit. I just wanna sleep.”
“Okay.” I still held her hand. “Then can I have a kiss goodnight?”
She looked around again. “Out here?”
I shrugged. “Or in your room. I won’t stay long. Just a few kisses. I wanna change back into my own skirt anyhow.”
“Oh. Okay. You gotta be quiet, though. I’m sure Mom’s asleep, and I don’t want her asking how the movie went!”
“Heh. No doubt.” I squeezed her hand and smiled at her. “Well, let’s go. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”
When I said that, I wiggled my nose like a mouse. That got her to smile. She led me into her house by the hand.
When we got into her room, and after she shut the door and put on the lights, I plopped down onto her bed and looked at her. “Kissing time,” I said.
She didn’t sit down. “Why don’t you change first.”
“Oh?” I fingered the hem of the skirt I had on. “Don’t you want me sexy?”
“If you have to change after we kiss, then it’s not really a goodnight kiss, is it?”
“True.”
When I got up, she sat down. Then I pulled the one skirt down, tossed it onto her bed, and found mine. I pulled that one on and snapped it at my waist.
“Ready?” I said.
“Yeah.”
I sat next to her. I reached out and pulled her into my arms. Then I reached for her chin and turned her face to me.
The kiss didn’t happen, not right away. No, I was in no hurry, even if she seemed to be. Instead I got real close to her, eye to eye, gazing. I smiled a little smile. Slowly, and it took a while, she smiled too.
“You’re pretty,” I said.
She dropped her gaze. Then she laughed, a gentle little laugh.
I said, “What?”
“I was just thinking.” She looked back up. “Earlier tonight, you were the shy one.”
“Yeah, well, a lot happened since then. And, I was only shy before we kissed. After we kissed, I was no longer shy at all. Not anymore.” I touched her face. “So, now that I’ve resolved never to be shy again, let’s kiss.”
Her eyes closed. Then mine. Then our mouths came together — and then there was nothing else in the world but us, our bodies, our skin.
So soft, her lips. So gentle, her tongue. It flicked into my mouth and I giggled.
“What?” she said.
“I like your tongue.”
“Well, good.”
We lay down side by side. More kissing. This time I gave her tongue free access and even sent my own on little adventures into her wet mouth.
Then I reached down and squeezed her butt, skirt up, panties so soft, just like what that horrible guy had done to Lisbeth. When I did that she began to kiss me harder.
Soon my skirt was pulled up also and her hands were rubbing and squeezing. Our bodies were pressed so tight. I squirmed and moved my torso, up and down, small movements, so that our breasts rubbed. My nipples felt like little points of fire. A soft warmth spread from my butt. My legs felt rubbery. Then I started to feel very warm down there.
I pulled her on top of me and wrapped my thighs around her thigh, and then — oh yes! — then my little movements, my little squirms and shifts, that had made my breasts feel so good, they made that other place feel good too. And that good feeling was a thing beyond all others.
I couldn’t believe it. That I could feel like this.
The heat settled on me. My whole body, tingling. There! Of course, mostly there. But all over me too. My breath began to come out in huffs. My eyes fluttered.
Oh Laura! Her mouth. Her ass.
She broke from the kiss. “Sweetie, we have to slow down.”
I reached, grasped her chin, and kissed her again. I gazed into her eyes.
“I’m serious. Please slow down. I don’t wanna do this tonight.”
I paused for a bit. Then I said, “Okay.”
She started to pull away from me, but when she did that, when we were no longer touching, I reached and again pulled her to me. “No, wait.”
“Amy!”
“No, ten more seconds. Just ten more.”
My one hand went back to her butt. With my other I pulled her chest to mine. Again my thighs wrapped around her thigh, our mouths locked together.
She gave me my ten seconds. I counted down in my head.
Then she rolled off of me and lay on her back. After a few seconds I caught my breath. “Wow,” I said.
She slid over close to me. “Yeah. That was pretty hot.”
We held hands.
“I wish I had put my fan on,” she said. “But I don’t feel like getting up.”
“Too bad. I think your sheets are gonna catch fire.”
“Heh.”
We lay close to each other in the warm air of her room.
After a while I asked, “Is that how girls have sex, just rubbing like that?”
She rolled to face me. “You mean you don’t know?”
I shrugged. “Well, not really. I’ve never done it. I mean, I think I know how boys and girls have sex — the penis and all of that. But not just girls.”
“Wow.”
“It felt really good. Like, so amazing.” When I said that I smiled and squirmed.
“Don’t you have the Internet?”
“No. Well, my foster mom lets me use her computer for school stuff. But, not other stuff.”
“Wow.”
“What? Tell me!”
I turned to her. We were face to face, very close.
“Haven’t you heard anything? Don’t you know what eating pussy is?”
My eyes dropped.
“You’re blushing!” she said. “You do know.”
I rolled back and faced up. “Yeah. I’ve heard girls talk. But I’m never sure what’s just talk.”
I heard her breathe. I felt her closeness. She rolled to me and ran her fingers up my side and onto my tummy. “Well,” she said, “I’m sure some of it is just talk. But eating pussy is real.”
I sat up halfway. “You’ve done it?”
“No!” She snorted. Then she punched me lightly in the shoulder. “Seriously!” She rolled back and faced up too. “But I’ve seen stuff on the computer.”
“Oh.”
I lay flat on my back. Again we were quiet. Again I took her hand.
Then, after a while, I asked, “Do you wanna do that stuff to me?”
At first she just squeezed my hand. Then she raised it and grasped it in her two hands before her breasts.
“Yes, Amy, I do.”
I rolled to her and put my other hand on her tummy. Then I began to move it down.
“Amy!”
“Yes?”
“But not tonight. I really need to sleep tonight.”
I stopped moving my hand.
“Okay,” I said.
“I’ll see you Monday.”
“Yeah.”
She was looking up. I moved my face close to her face. “Then, can I have one last kiss. Just a little one. A proper goodnight kiss.”
“Of course.”
So we gave each other one last kiss, small, so sweet, face to face. Her brown eyes glinted.
“Goodnight, my dear,” I said.
“Goodnight.”
I rose from her bed and walked to the door. When I got there I turned. “One last thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Are we girlfriends?”
It arrived on her face slowly, but when it did, her smile was enormous. “Yeah. Yes. We are.”
As I rode home the warm air covered me like a soft glove, the stars shone down from a glimmering sky, and I felt wave upon wave of the most splendid happiness.