4. Daisy
Daisy
C urses speckle my lips as I shove my way into her apartment. Lorde Sheen will not be showing me the exit today. I’ve got a new asshole to rip this piece of work, and…
Is it warm in this apartment? It’s warm in this apartment. I think steam might be exuding from my skin.
Oh, wait. That’s her skin. Apparently, she has emerged from the shower. A towel litters the floor and that thick hair is sopping wet. Are those water droplets on her chest?
Hello, there.
No! No hellos!
Lorde strolls in behind me, closing the front door with a soft click. “I take it you saw the article.” Her cheeks keep puffing out in contained laughter. She looks like a squirrel who thinks she’s oh-so-funny.
“You bet your ass I saw it!” Volume? Tone? Who cares about either? With a few short words, Lorde has me riled up again. Doesn’t take much! “What the hell were you thinking? How could you fucking do this to me? What have I done to you?”
I don’t want to showcase the panic and anger inside of me, but when I get emotional, it’s almost impossible. To think, my doctor put me on birth control back in high school to help me with this. I think it’s time to switch brands.
Lorde feigns innocence with that stupid grin. “Just being honest,” she says, way too cheerily. “If anything, I’d think you’d be flattered. Didn’t I pay you a compliment?”
“A compliment!” Someone’s shriek echoes in Lorde’s apartment. It’s mine, isn’t it? Suddenly, I’m the big fat Italian stereotype I’ve been shrugging off for the past twenty years. To be fair, I haven’t heard this side of my voice since… Daddy…
Nope! Not thinking about it here!
“You said I was a kinky slut! You said I had threesomes and orgies and whatever the else the editor had to censor!” Those words sink deeply into me.
My reputation. My honor. All ruined because of Lorde Sheen getting mad that I didn’t positively react to her sick jokes the other day.
This woman… No, no , this isn’t a woman.
This is a little girl. I don’t care if she’s a year older than me.
She’s about as mature as twelve-year-olds discovering boobies in a Playboy magazine.
“Do you know what this is going to do to me?”
“You mean you don’t do those things?” She looks me straight in the eyes and widens her smile. That’s it. I’m going to knock the teeth out of her mouth. See how many people want to take pictures of her now!
“No, I don’t, you God-awful asshole!” Tears burn in my eyes.
My arms shoot into the air, my purse flailing at my side.
“I’m a perfectly presentable member of society!
I’m a part of the Young Women’s Club! My father holds a key to the city!
I’m respectable!” Somehow, I keep my tears in my body.
“Unlike you, Lorde.” Fed up with my obnoxious purse, I slam it onto her floor and stand up with a huff.
I can’t see anything because of how blurry my anger has made my vision.
I think it might be colored red now, too.
However, I can make out that Lorde is not looking me in the face anymore. Her arms remain crossed in front of her chest, but one of those hands is going up to her mouth and stifling another wicked chuckle.
“I wouldn’t say you’re respectable at all right now.” There it is. The escaped guffaw, and a finger pointing right at my dress. “Can you say wardrobe malfunction? Or is it Miss Jackson if you’re nasty ?”
I’m horrified before I even look down. Why. Did I. Wear this. Top? Because it’s betrayed me, one halter strap unsnapping and falling down my chest. Behold, Lorde, ‘tis my breast! Contained in a hot pink bra, but it doesn’t exactly cover much.
Of course. Of course my clothes are falling off my body around this ass.
It’s like I subconsciously wanted to be half-naked like she is.
With those stupid tits and those stupid six-pack abs and that stupid body wash wafting in my direction.
Oh my God. Is that my hard nipple poking through pink fabric? I’m gonna hurl – then die!
Not before I take Lorde Sheen down with me!
I throw myself at her. No, not like that.
My nails are extended, ready to draw blood, or to at least make it physically known that I am not a woman to be trifled with.
I know I shouldn’t try this haphazard violence, but what else do I do?
Cry in front of her? I’ll never! I’d rather be indicted for manslaughter than cry in front of Lorde Sheen!
She takes a huge step back. It’s not enough to make me miss her.
All it does is make me trip in my black pumps while a snarl takes over my demeanor.
Anger mounts. Rage boils my blood. Those tears are finally coming out and clouding my vision.
I draw upon the last of my energy and lunge at her once more, crying out in the most embittered frustration I’ve ever had the displeasure of experiencing.
Why do people do this? Why has Lorde singled me out for her bullying? Why is Daddy trying to control my life and future?
Why am I thinking of Daddy right now?
“Principessa,” I hear his voice echoing in my memory. “It’s time we talked about your future. Namely, who you are going to marry…”
I make contact with Lorde. She tries to push me away, but I end up landing against her chest, hot tears exploding on her skin. I don’t expect her to wrap those toned arms around me, but she does. And I…
I feel safe. Protected. Independent.
Wait, what?
“Okay, wow.” Lorde doesn’t move, either to shove me away or bring me tighter into her embrace. “This took a turn. First your tit busts out, then you’re crying…”
These tears transform into one last surge of anger. We’ve stumbled through a doorway, and with one last push, I’ve broken through her hold and fallen forward.
Right onto her freakishly big bed. Unmade, because God forbid someone makes her bed around here.
The soft sheets greet me like an old lover. I instantly roll over and wonder what thread count they are, because it’s better than realizing I’ve popped through Lorde’s bedroom door and thrown myself onto her bed.
“All right, this isn’t what I had in mind.” I don’t know what that means, but Lorde grabs my hands and pulls me back onto my feet. No, I don’t want to touch her again. I’d rather twist my arms and make my escape now. Nope. Outta here!
Except she’s still grasping me, attempting to force me to turn around so she can say something to my face.
“Get off of me!” I inadvertently hit her bicep. Because we’re already teetering against her bed, she loses balance and smacks against the edge – taking me down with her.
“Uh…”
My vision clears. Here I am, on Lorde Sheen’s bed… with the woman herself beneath my straddled thighs. I’ve got her chest pinned down with nothing more than my black miniskirt and the legs beneath.
“I hate you,” I whisper, looking straight down at her shocked countenance.
“You have no right to say those slanderous things about me. You don’t understand what it could do to me.
You think it’s funny?” I slap my hands on either side of her head, ass lifting off her chest but my sharp teeth coming closer to her nose.
My hair slips off my shoulder and grazes her skin.
“You think it’s cute destroying someone’s reputation and damaging her relationships with lies?
Because it’s not. You had no reason to do that other than to sate your evil ego. I…”
Her eyes have glazed over. Not out of disrespect, but in what I think might be attraction.
No. No way .
Whatever words I was going to say next disappear. It’s like Lorde’s expression is passing onto me. By the way, did I know that I was straddling her hips like no big deal?
Oh. My. God.
She’s smiling like this is the best day of her life!
Either Lorde Sheen is secretly into dominatrixes, or she’s been this attracted to me for a while now.
I don’t know what to think. Other than that’s a hand brushing against my skirt as if she’s simultaneously trying to avoid touching me while also thinking about going for it.
All I’m wearing underneath my skirt is a pair of black undies.
It wouldn’t take much at all for her to touch me right in my waiting…
What the fuck am I thinking!
I nearly topple over the bed when I realize I’m fantasizing about screwing her. Once I catch my balance again, I look down, meeting a burning, aroused gaze. “I want you,” Lorde’s blazing browns say. “I want to fuck you if nothing else.”
No words necessary. This woman wants me. That’s as clear to me as the heat rushing to my pussy and saying sure, why not?
Why not ? Why not? How about because she’s a total asshole and I have a very strict “don’t fuck assholes” policy? How about because two minutes ago I was chewing her out, and the one thing I shouldn’t do is reward her stupidity with, uh, my pussy?
I bet she would love that. I bet she would love to slam me down on this bed and go at me until I incessantly come.
Wow. Where did that come from?
Only a few seconds have passed, but in those few seconds, my brain has done a terrible 180. We’ve gone from wanting to kill this jerk to wanting to fuck her!
As if she’s on the same wavelength as me, Lorde lifts herself onto her elbows and meets my kiss halfway. Her lips are more locked on mine than mine are on hers.
She’s a maniac. A kissing killer. Somehow, in ten seconds, she’s managed to transform me from a rampaging psycho to a famished woman who wants nothing but her .
I’ve never experienced a kiss like this before.
Let alone when I’m straddling a woman’s lap, her body stirring directly beneath me, threatening to take me right here.
I almost want her to. Wouldn’t it be great if we could get this over with?
Before my senses return to me and I realize what a horrible mistake this is?
Come on, Lorde. Take me over. Consume me. Fuck me like it’s real.