She抯 never, ever spun out like this, but she gets her bearings and matches my breathing.
In, two, three, four, out two, three, four. We repeat it countless times, the minutes slipping away.
Her face and lips start to regain their color eventually, but my eyes remain glued to her until she sighs through her nose. My thumbs stroke back and forth on her shoulders rapidly, like I抦 seeking my own comfort. Because damn if her panic didn抰 just throw me into my own a bit?
揊ee, I didn抰 know you were on the edge like that. I抦 sorry. I wouldn抰 have teased.?
揑 don抰 think I really knew either,?she inhales and shudders. And then her eyes meet mine and her tongue darts across her lips. 揔iss me??she asks.
I search her face, unsure if this is actually a good or healthy diversion, but when her teeth sink into her lip hesitantly, self-consciously, I break.
More like I keep my foot on the gas and hope we don抰 spin out.
With a groan, I grab the lapels of her little vest and yank her to me.
It抯 fucking, what our mouths do. Tongues and teeth and lips, biting and sliding and pressing. It抯 warm and heavy. Then there抯 that fruity mint flavored gum that I plan to buy a whole damn palette of. I moan into her mouth when her cool fingertips graze beneath my shirt and feel her lips curl into a smile in return. I抦 immediately relieved that the distraction is working, despite the warring emotions. My hands skate down her waist to her ass and squeeze as her hips arch into me, the jut of them pressing to my thighs. The recesses of my mind prompt me to check the clock, so I eye it when I tilt her head and kiss her neck below her ear, her warm scent invading my senses like a drug. Under twelve minutes until showtime. My hands trace the soft skin of her lower back and around to her front, just above her jeans button, my heart thundering in my chest because it抯 been at least four梞aybe five梱ears since I truly touched a woman and this is Fee, my Fee. I look down at her and she抯 already nodding, eyes heavy-lidded. She tries to undo her button with shaky hands, movements jerky. I grab her hands and kiss a palm before I link them around my neck. 揕et me.?
A breath winds out of me as I do, my rough and clumsy hands so at odds with the delicate scrap of yellow lace I uncover. The heels of her palms press into the base of my skull at either side and I have to stifle a groan, feeling the heat of her before my hand even reaches its destination. And then when I do, fuck, my own eyes roll back in my head and I clench my molars together to stop my teeth from chattering because I抦 dying to be here. Right here. I press my forehead to hers as she hitches on a sound. I think I could come just like this, I realize. Swallowing her gasps, watching her expression knit tighter and tighter, eyes closed and lost in feeling. I circle and slide and I feel every tiny noise she makes from high in her throat, feel like it抯 me being tugged with each filthy little wet sound. She pulls tighter when I stay right here, not pressing hard, just lightly swiping at a steady pace. The steadier I am the more frantically her breaths drum against the shell of my ear. Until she stops breathing altogether, holding it just a beat before she begins pulsing rapidly on my fingers, her lids cracking open and whispering my name through a pant, melting all around me. On and on and on.
I rest my head against the wall for a brief moment, trying to collect myself before I lean back and settle her on her feet.
I zip and button her back up, hands trembling much harder than when they started, my voice even more so when I say, 揊ee??She smiles hazily up at me as I start walking her in the intended direction, shaking my head a little to clear it. 揑 want you to go out there and tell everyone what makes you angry, sad, happy, horny, whatever pops into your head, you say it. You go out there and start talking to them and tell them every funny feeling. It抯 showtime,?and then I spin her around, give her a nudge with a swat on the ass before she steps out onto the stage.
24
NOW
揅omedy is defiance. It抯 a snort of contempt in the face of fear and anxiety. And it抯 the laughter that allows hope to creep back on the inhale.?- Will Durst
FARLEY
揝o on that note, I抎 like you all to give a warm welcome to Miss Farley Jones!?Lance calls into the mic.
The applause roars as I turn and look back over my shoulder at a smug Meyer, though not sure how smug someone can really pull off while adjusting his pants like he is. The corner of his mouth flicks up and he blows a bubble my way?a bubble with my gum, I now realize.
I look around with a smile, immediately recognizing a few faces as I take stock of how I feel.
Somehow, making me thoroughly fall apart on his hand, detonating me into shimmering little fragments of light that rival the ones shining down on me now has wiped my head clean of the anxiety and the panic.
A little road map forms in my mind, one with no street names or distances but a guide for how this thing is going to go. I lengthen my strides, my smile curving genuinely.
The mic is a friend, a comfortable weight in my hand. Their claps are little bursts of energy that shoot straight into my veins.
揌ello hello, everyone!?I smile and wave at the faces I recognize, Marissa at a front row table. 揊irst, and foremost, I have some announcements to make. To declare. To decree, if you will厰 I sigh happily. 揊uck it, I抦 smug, you guys. I. Am. Smug. And I don抰 care who knows it! Because things are good. They抮e really good. They抮e so good that I抦 actually more anxious. Like, how bad things happen in three抯， good things only happen in singles so around the corner, any minute now, I think I抦 going to trip over my own feet on the sidewalk and snap my neck on the curb before a bus comes and squishes my head like a grape kinda anxious.?A swell of laughter lifts me. 揝ide bar here, I no longer allow stools in my house since watching Million Dollar Baby.?The laughter rolls, accelerating.
揃ut back to business. I am smug, and yes, anxious about why I抦 so smug, so I抦 here to talk it out with you all and unpack this baggage because this just seems like a great place to air out all my shit, you know?
揊irst announcement: I am no longer single. You may have heard, but I am in a relationship. Yes, me, okay? And I get it, yes, go ahead and clap because it抯 a feat worth celebrating?
揑t抯 a feat worth celebrating because we all know it抯 not this kinda girl棓 I jab a thumb at myself 摋 that gets the guy. Not the loud, crass, girl who knows she抯 damaged and high maintenance and makes jokes about it. No, no. It抯 always two types of women who get the man:?I hold up two fingers to elucidate. 揑t抯 either the subtle wallflowers, or the ones who know they抮e sexy, and confident. It seems like you either have to have no idea how appealing you are, or you have to be fully aware of it and proud to embrace your power. It抯 not us weird in-betweeners. Not the truly unhinged.?I open my eyes as wide and crazily as I can. 揟he ones who get dressed to the nines in the sexiest getups they own, and then get drunk and aggressively convince all the other girls on the dance floor to take off their foot-prisons, build a shrine with them in the middle of a ceremonial circle while you get them all to perform a weird-girl tribal dance to Beyonce.?I mime a little dance, hopping around the stand in a circle as I cackle maniacally away from the mic. People start jostling around in their seats with the laughter, like they抮e all on an off-roading adventure down a bumpy mountain road.
Well, buckle up, motherfuckers.
揘o. It抯 not the ones who incite chaos and riots and bring down the collective sexiness in the atmosphere, the ones who dial up the crazy.