DIRT: the grunge diaries (𝒱𝒾𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝒶'𝓈 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃)

entry # 119 - sunglasses at night

⚠️ disgusting jokes I won't apologise for, in quality of the humorous, cultured person that I am 🤡Mentions of drugs and drug use ⚠️

After the 'altercation' we all had with Gerry, and after Gerry surrendered to us and walked out of the battlefield with his rattail between his legs, and his slimy silhouette enveloped by the toxic smokes of his own ears, I was seeking a much needed distraction... and I decided that zoning out with Sean, on the couch, right in front of our horny friends, would've been a good pastime. Plot twist: it turned out to be the most perfect pastime a girlie could've ever asked for. Both high out of our minds and somewhat sleepy, we snuggled in for quite a bit, while his buddies and my best friend were still happily talking about threesomes and sex in general. All of that, religiously in front of our new redhead friend, entertained by their shenanigans to say the least. Layne and Mike were talking about Bessie's arsenal of tongue tricks, while my mind was someplace else, my tongue was entwined with my boyfriend's, and we were exchanging sloppy but sweet kisses. Surprisingly enough, Starr didn't ask us to get a room, so Sean and I's house still has five rooms, no walk in closet and no laundrette just yet, so far. At some point into our snuggly idyll, I was falling asleep, gold standard everytime I'm high and in Sean's presence, and he kept me awake by toying with the piece of stainless steel in my belly button, and kissing me some more. Again, Starr didn't ask us to get a room, but Layne chimed in out of nowhere, and asked me to kiss Bessie, instead of kissing Sean. I didn't give Layne an inch, and obviously I didn't give Bessie any tongue at all. I just don't see my best blonde friend that way, I'm a good girlfriend above everything else, and I know how to say no, when I don't feel like doing what I've been asked to do. So, instead of giving into the dirty fantasies of a guy who thinks my name is Cleopatra, and that my bike is a camel undercover, I just shrugged and kept minding my own business with my boyfriend. That, until Chrissie and Jesus Christ of Soundgarden made a mystical appearance at our table, and sat down with us. After a round of drinks offered by Layne, and after a round of not very biblical, but very spiteful comments from Chrissie to Sean, because she just can't stand the dude and she never misses a chance to show her resentment towards him, we all headed to the dancefloor. Girls first, and guys right behind us.

Bessie, Chrissie and I danced together, grinding, wiggling our bums and winking at 'our' men, while they were all gathered around us, and drooling by the sides of their mouths. Honourable mention to my man, who was the only one in the manly gang to sport sunglasses (where the hell did he find sunglasses, and why the hell was he wearing them in a night club at 3:00AM?) and to keep his hands well over the peepee. Somewhere mid dance, the redhead chick who escaped from Gerry's nauseous flirt joined our gathering on the dancefloor, and asked us girls if she could partake into the dancing extravaganza. Needless to say, we said yes. The Seattle Gossip Committee/Groupie Exquisites/Angels of Grunge is a very exclusive club that doesn't accept new recruits. We are very strict on our three women only rule, but we are no bitches, and we do accept the occasional guest member, if the person in question is cool enough for the likes of us. Reason why we all nodded in unison, and let our new redhead friend of the night hitch a dance with us. And we kept dancing for a while, until, surprise but not really...  I was the first girl to be rescued and claimed back by their hunk.

I mean, I'm here now, in the middle of the dancefloor, doing the choof choof dance with my two best friends and a chick who's cool as fuck, and my boyfriend is behind me, throwing his arms around my waist, and making sure I turn his way ... because he wants a smooch, and his kissy face is really giving it away for him. Thank goodness he took his sunglasses off, or I would've never been able to tell. I turn his way, I give him the smooch he so fancies, and the moment he smiles, after my lips sordidly mack against his... I squirm! I just fucking squirm, throw myself at him, and hook my legs around his hips. And we kiss, just like this, like I'm the monkey and he's the tree, while my two best friends and the redhead chick keep dancing to appeal to their men of choice. For Bessie, it's an all Layne and Mike thing, even if Gerry is staring at her like a dog from across the room, with a cigarette well planted between his lips. For Chrissie, it's Chris and Chris only. The less sanctified version of my compatriot Jesus is now poking her ass and dragging her out of the crowd, so that they can have a much deserved dance of their own. As for my new redhead friend, whose name I recall to be Sarah, she seems to be intrigued by the deejay. He looks... exotic, in a very familiar way. And when I say that, I mean that he really looks like he could be a member of my enarged family. My first degree cousin from my dad's side, for instance. He looks exotic, this dancefloor smells like rose oud and I don't know if it's just me or someone else too, and the temptation to go out there and ask him if we are from the same geographical area is strong as fuck... but I resist it, and I keep smooching my boyfriend in the middle of the dancefloor. At the end of the day, I was dying to have a dancefloor moment with him, and I think I'm finally having it now. We aren't dancing, at least not conventionally so, for as far as I'm concerned. I'm hanging on him, both legs thrown around him, and I'm playfully grinding my body against his. I ain't trying to charm him nor keep him going, I'm just trying to have fun and make him laugh. He's laughing indeed, his hands are above my buttocks, and he's keeping my dress still so that it won't peel up, as I keep grinding my body against his. All of that, sealed with a bunch of smooches that really do say a lot about our intentions for the rest of the night: having fun together without getting too horny. Because we're in love, and we don't necessarily need to get horny, to have some fun together.