5. Lorde
Lorde
T he door slams shut. I stand here, totally gobsmacked over what happened.
I had her. Right there, panting in my bed, begging for my touch and kiss in a way that seemed too good to be true. Apparently, it was. Right when I thought I was going to fuck the girl of my dreams, she bailed on me with hardly an explanation.
For the second time, Daisy DeMonte has left me hot and bothered with no one to take care of me. I swear, she’s going to drive me to extremes.
After another – cold – shower, I attempt to go about my day.
First, I hit up the grocery store, instantly reminded of Daisy when I see the lobsters.
Not just because she pinches like the devil, either, or because she gets lobster red when she’s furious.
It’s what she ordered on our double date, not that she stayed long enough to enjoy it.
Then I have an appointment at the queer-owned salon I quickly discovered when I moved back into town.
I listen to the chatter of the dykes and dolls around me, congratulating one another on either their most recent “wins” or the trips they’re taking with their current lovers.
When the full-on-drag-queen doing my hair asks about my recent dating life, having already read my interview, I simply say that things are heating up.
What I wish I could say is that I scored with someone like Daisy DeMonte.
For some reason, I’d feel bad about mentioning her name.
I’ve done enough damage already. Irreparable? Fuck me. I think so.
I can’t stop thinking about her no matter where I go. I replay what happened in my bedroom. The way she straddled my hips, teasing me with her poor pussy trapped in clothing. Does she know she left a wet spot on my jeans? That was almost hotter than my fantasies.
Her breasts had rubbed against my chest. Her lips were as eager as mine to kiss and suck. They wanted punishment. Everything begged to be punished with my body.
My whole week is like this. Every day I wake up thinking of Daisy.
Not just her body or how she felt against me, but the sound of her voice, whether she’s giving me a piece of her mind or laughing at something Ashleigh said.
Her smile when she thinks I’m not looking.
The fact that she’s so fiercely protective of who she is.
That woman has a ton of confidence for someone raised to be a spoiled princess.
I’m not used to that. I’m used to girls like Ashleigh, or girls who think they’re confident.
So consumed are my pathetic thoughts that I don’t fool around with another girl.
I’m given plenty of opportunities. I could call one up from my address book.
Or I could nail a waitress behind a restaurant.
Maybe that hottie at the bar Angus and I go to for a few beers.
I bump into a supermodel at my mother’s apartment.
She’s older than me, but I can tell she’s ready to teach me a few things. I decline.
Angus invites me to a club, which would almost ensure getting laid with a star-struck girl. I don’t go. If my goal isn’t to get laid, I find little appealing about the clubs.
All I do is mope like a loser. I haunt social media on my phone, trying to see Daisy’s private profiles which I’ve sent friend requests to. (She never responds.) Staring at her photo doesn’t help me much. It only makes me crazy to see her again.
The lowest I sink is buying a local fashion magazine so I can check out pictures of her.
The only ones I find are some candid shots of her having lunch with Ashleigh, wearing a vintage floral dress and those big cat-eye sunglasses.
She looks so perfect, even when she’s not posing.
For once her lips aren’t pouty. They’re smiling widely.
Daisy probably hates this photo, because it shows a more realistic side of her.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Daisy, it’s that she wants to be nothing but picture-perfect.
She’s building a brand with her image. What she’s doing with it, I have no idea.
I don’t pretend to understand the scrutiny girls like her are under.
I took a very different path in life as the daughter of someone rich and famous.
One night, while I’m staring at these photos like a stalker, I get a call from my mother.
She and I have an okay relationship. We don’t talk much since we’re both busy people, but she’s never been anything but nice and cordial to me. Even so, she doesn’t call me unless she has a reason.
“You’ve got your invitation to my film premiere, right? You never confirmed with my agent.” Of course, that’s why my mother is calling. “It’s important that you go! You missed the last one, and the trash the tabloids came up with… saying that we’re estranged… don’t do that to me again.”
“What? You’re a supporting character. Who cares?” I lean back in bed with the magazine smacked against my face.
“Who… Lorde! It’s a series of vignettes with an ensemble cast! Everyone’s a main character! Come on. You have to see me star in a movie with Pedro Pascal. It’s been my goal to be in a movie with him for the past ten years.”
I sigh.
“I know you hate that sort of thing. Do me a favor though, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t be smart with me. This is Oscar bait and I need you in New York to support me.”
I pull the magazine off my face and stare at the candid collage of Daisy and Ashleigh. Mostly Daisy, of course. Okay, all Daisy.
While my mother blathers, I read the caption. “ Rich socialite Daisy DeMonte enjoys lunch with fellow heiress Ashleigh Lee. Ms. DeMonte is relaxing during her summer break from college, although rumor says she has a packed week in New York planned.”
New York, huh? Daisy’s going to be there?
My mother’s movie premiere happens to be in New York… such a fateful city.
“I’ll be there.” I interrupt my mother, already planning how I’m going to find and approach Daisy DeMonte.
Throwing that trash into my interview was a good way to get her in my apartment, but it ultimately failed at getting her in my bed – or at least naked and with her legs spread wide open so I can explore every inch of her.
Great, Lorde. Think about these things while on the phone with your mother, why don’t you?
“I got the invitation. I’ll be there. We’ll take some pics for the press… ”
“Oh, I know you’re busy,” my mother tersely says. “Don’t worry. I’m in the first vignette, so you can leave soon enough. You don’t have to stay for the whole thing.”
“Great, yeah. I’ll be there. Love you.” I hang up before she has the chance to reply. My brain is going five thousand miles a second, coming up with as many ways I am going to finally seduce Daisy DeMonte. I won’t be able to function until I see how far this attraction goes.
You hear that, Daze? You’re relaxing for now, but when I’m through with you, you’ll be a panting, writhing, dirty girl unable to keep her legs closed around me. I’m not just taking you in my bed. I’m taking you everywhere.
Prepare yourself. I’m coming to devour you.