Rachel Goes Gay...

I introduced you guys to my wonderful friend Rachel and her writing a couple of weeks ago. Click here to read the original post about her.

I thought you guys might find this interesting. It's the story of a straight girl (totally Rachel) who does a little experimenting. Since Rachel is English and my friend, you all have permission to read this with an English accent like you're that Bridget Jones...

It was dark and bright and we all grinned and choked on our own jokes. You flung cameras around and then it was the lens on us, and we were posing and it felt like happiness. The bar called you, or you chased it anyway. And then we were alone, me and her and it was the first of a few. Alcohol hazed memory means I don’t know what was said. But then it was chaste kisses on my head, cheek, lips. Lips. And then? Oh. Oh. The first of many firsts. And slowly my vision was darkened and horizontal but it was broken and filled with light when we were applauded by the audience.

And then we found you, seducing the bar. I rambled and she talked and our voices combined but there was no harmony to it, just jarred notes. Peacock features, I let you in and you wanted to be a part of the club as much as I wanted to enroll you. We poisoned ourselves and headed to where the bodies were. A few beats later, you tried to re-enact what had already been taken. Clumsy and wet and a little messy, the feeling of firsts was not forgotten and I was high on feeling, something. Feeling.

Greedy guts dragged you or maybe you chased, and there was a wall. Definitely a wall. And your back flat against it, and my body pressed into yours. Practice was the idea, perfection being far from this. But you had greater ambitions and my mind even clouded and inebriated guessed what you were hinting at. My hand in yours, we were invincible. Surrounded by others but sheathed in hardboard and cheap plastic, and it suited us. Cheap. We certainly weren’t hardwearing, and I giggled while you moaned. I was intoxicated by the liquor on your tongue. Your hands.

She had the first, but you took the seconds and then the first of another. And that was a first. But even when; I thought of her. It seemed unfair, suddenly three was two and I didn’t want our company to spoil the broth.

You were pushy and open and so, so, exposed. And I was easily persuaded. Degraded. But oh, how we laughed.

Then I halted and you protested but I was filled with equality and fair trade and we left in search of the other. We fell back into the pulse and once empty, now I was spilling over with gluttony and pride and sickness, and oh. White lies and faker smiles than the original, but soon we were just as hazy and apathetic as before. But oh, oh, oh. How we laughed.

The proximity then was suffocating but I breathed the oxygen from your lungs and that was clean enough for me. Now I breathe and there is space and how I wish I could close it and breathe for two again.