The Crew

Untitled Part 10

Chapter Ten

I was in Lorenzo's easy chair, usually taken over by Cannonball in Lorenzo's absence. Cannon was outside with Bone, on the balcony, talking about something which seemed important, judging by his gesturing and quiet whispering in Bone's ear, which I could partially see from where I sat. But the point is: he was preoccupied.

Sarah strutted right over and sat on my lap. Just like that. As if it were fine. As if it were No. Big. Deal. Uh...was she insane?! Was she off her meds?

I'd done a little digging on campus, you know, asked around, and I'd found out three key things about Sarah: One; everyone seemed to know she hung out with the punkers; Two; everyone seemed to know Cannon dug her but no one knew why they weren't together; and three; she was regarded, by other students, as a "feminist." I wasn't even sure exactly what a feminist was, but I figured it meant female power.

Her added weight made us sag. Her bubble butt—which looked fantastic against the short skirt—squished my dick and it partially hurt, partially felt good. Either way I didn't want her to move. The fact that she did it while Cannon was nearby was ballsy. Double ballsy. Triple. She threw her arms around me, a devilish grin on her face. Her full, lipsticked lips were driving me wild and I nearly kissed her right then and there; had it not been for Cannon I would've. She turned me on beyond belief. It seemed months ago we'd first walked on the beach that night and kissed. Though there was still that unknown territory, that awkward, lingering thread. I was a virgin.

D.D. broke my trance. He stood behind us, smelly from running around all day, his pasty white face and "chaos-spiked" blue-black hair, a ripped T-shirt that said, "I Believe in Anarchy."

"Dog, what the hell happened at your old lady's place today? Bear and Cannon won't spew it!"

Sarah jumped off me, adjusting her skirt, cat-walking away without glancing at D.D., joining her girlfriends in the kitchen where they were pouring each other shots of Sapphire Gin.

"Jesus Christ!" My dick was still half hard and I sat forward to conceal it. Lust filled my brain. I wanted to take Sarah outside and make out. I wanted to lower my palm to that bouncy bubble butt ass. I wanted to tear her shirt off. But also, I longed to touch her angular cheek, gaze into her eyes.

"My bad Dog, but I had to ask, what happened?" D.D. said, ignoring my frustration. His evil, stark grin was similar to Bear's, only he had that "anarchistic," intelligent sparkle in his eyes that Bear didn't have. Less anger, more disobedience.

There was silence as I stared blankly at D.D., still wondering why he had interrupted. But then I went into the whole story, with all of the twists and curves and yelling and aggression and lunacy and the whole damned tale. D.D.'s eyes lit up like a punk rock pinball machine after every sentence.

"You know what they call that, Dog?"

"What?" I said, sincerely curious.

"CHAOS, brother. An-ar-chy." He paused, chewing on something. Then he swigged from his can of Budweiser. "We're gonna overthrow this mother one day; overwhelm the system, tear it down. Coup de etat. Insurrection. It says it right in the Declaration of Independence, Dog: If the government becomes abusive, it is OUR duty to overthrow that government and set up a new one. 'Course, the idea is to start a new, 'less corrupt' one. But we'll scrap the whole thing. REVOLUTION! You watch and see."

I said nothing, honestly impressed by D.D.'s profound intelligence, knowledge and determination to "overthrow the government," even if it was unrealistic.