“Fuuuck. That’s good. So wet. Deeper,” Birdie squealed.
Was it wrong, that after several minutes of witnessing Kelle’s cock jut in and out of Birdie’s mouth, vagina, and anus…I still stood there in horrid disbelief and watched them?
He’d pretty much plugged every hole. WTF! They didn’t even use a condom.
In my overly active mind, I waited for some imaginary teleprompter to light up from the chandelier hanging above her bed and instruct, “Applause!”
They weren’t worthy of a clap. No siree. Now the clap which medical experts referred to as Gonorrhea was a whole other story. Hands down, they both merited that one.
Rolling over onto his side, Kelle submitted to Mom’s diva ways.
Her perfectly sculpted silicone breasts, the ones which had a lingerie brand named after them called Caged Birdie, sold in discount superstores, nearly hypnotized Kelle into titty-land.
“Mrs. Easton, I’m in love with you,” Kelle professed, and suckled on her rosy nipples as if he hadn’t eaten a breast implant in years.
Say whaa!
I-N L-O-V-E?
Poof! My insides dried up. Right there, in that doorway. Someone had taken a Dyson vacuum cleaner, hooked the tube up to my sex, and flipped the dry-vac carpet button.
Was I supposed to witness this?
Maybe the universe brought these two together to remind me to focus on my grades this fall, and not on the boys.
At Avon Porter, all my energy had gone to helping Taddy, Vive, and Blake get through their cray-cray days. Not on my academics, hence my remedial math studies.
From Blake’s coming out about being a cock sucker, his words not mine, to Taddy’s abandonment and emancipation issues with her folks, I’d been rather busy.
Just when I’d thought we were good to study, Vive had gotten herself knocked-up. And then the accidental death of her boyfriend, Sanderloo Konjik, had happened. I know!
All four of us had been arrested, charged in the murder of Sanderloo, and had stood trial. After spending an entire semester at the Fairfield County Juvenile Detention Center where Vive had given birth to her baby, we’d been found innocent of all wrongdoing.
Point being, my swinging parent’s party drama luckily hadn’t compared to any of the above. Vive had won the sash and tiara in that category. Taddy had reigned in second place, and Blake could have third. I’m so fine with Miss Congeniality.
Hmmm I wonder. Now that I’m here in the city if Birdie’s actions will hold me back from pursuing my Ivy League degree? I guess only if I let them. Right?
PS, don’t wanna talk about juvie. You’ll never see me wear the color orange or eat mashed potatoes.
“Suck it, woman. No, I didn’t say you could come yet.” Kelle got his man-game on when Birdie didn’t say she loved him back. Instead, Mom laughed and came everywhere.
If I was under his fifty-something-inch chest and held on to his twenty-something inch waist, while his foot-long dick penetrated me that way, (and not Mother), I’d probably would’ve orgasmed too.
Humping along, they didn’t even notice me. Typical!
The longer they went at it, the sadder it became to watch—two gorgeous people, past their luster, bang one another.
Kelle had peaked our senior year. The kid still wore Abercrombie for Christ’s sake. I imagine he’ll never take that darn military academy class ring off his finger. Not once this summer, had he talked about our future at Columbia University together. His mouth had jabbered on and on about his past Lacrosse games.
The worst was last week. He’d revealed he’d been stealing Viagra from his father’s medicine cabinet to endure what he’d coined “mega-masturbation-marathons.”
That’s like so seventh grade. Forreals!
Standing there, I talked myself out of loving him. Wasn’t that what I was doing?
Taddy had once profoundly stated all adult-like, “You can talk your mind into making your heart feel something. It’s true, darling. If you want to love, you will. And if you want to hate, you shall. But don’t let either of those two emotions get the best of you.”
That’s how she’d healed from her parents disowning her. Her ability to move on had all been a matter of Taddy’s mind, and not a matter of the facts. We were like fourteen!
When you think about it “facts” flub everything up. Regardless, I still felt nauseous.
Sick with the reality of what was before me, this whole—Mom and my boyfriend naked in bed together, having sex, and him telling her he was in love—thing started to sink-in.
The white spots I’d seen went from snowflakes to snowballs. My head pounded as if my heart had moved into my brain. And my stomach, ohhh, ached with abdominal pains. I felt worse than after eating Chinese food from that place down on Canal Street which has a dry cleaning and gold fish shop inside. All I needed next was for my hair to fall out and my arms and legs to snap off.
I backtracked through the penthouse to my wing and shut the door. The anxiety didn’t quit, even with Mom and Kelle out of sight. My hands went numb. Dang, I started having hiccups. Excuse me.
Shoving two more pieces of nicotine gum in my mouth, I wiped the saliva from my chin. The drool was out of control.
I had to do something drastic…murder Kelle, ask Senator Dolley out on a date, race my Vamp scooter off the Brooklyn Bridge and into the Hudson River while wearing an “Eddie Easton’s #1 Fan” concert t-shirt, or…I could sell my Lady V on eBay. So many choices to pick from, how could I decide?
Withdrawing my cell from my pocket, I called the only girl in town that might help me.
My BFF, Taddy Brill.
Mister Softee
“Lex-a-licious!” Taddy picked up on the first ring.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“Vive and I are at Bergdorf’s. They have that angora sweater Christina Ricci wore in Teen Vogue. I fricking L-U-V it. There are no dark colors in your size. Want me to ask the sales guy if they can custom order you one? I’m buying it in red, for myself. Oh my Lord & Taylor, we are having a fabu day getting our clothes for school. Before the BG, we shared a Nicoise salad at Le Bernardin. Vive ordered a Cosmo and got her dumb butt carded. Vive woulda been fine too, if she hadn’t acted all Farnworth-liquor-heiress righteous and proceeded to tell the waiter how to train the bartender on the specific way to shake her Cosmo. Can you believe her?”
“Yes,” I muttered, trying to get into this conversation.