Oh My...

12.) Sex

We walked in an old warehouse that seemed deserted from the outside. I shot Alicia a suspicious look. "What's this?"

She stopped walking and stared at me. "The Shelter," she said slowly, like it was suppose to be obvious.

I pointed at the building. "This doesn't look like a club."

Alicia snorted. "Who said anything about a club?"

She pushed open the two wide doors and walked into an empty room; I could hear music and partying thumping underneath us. I followed Alicia, crossing the room to get to a thin hallway that led to a flight of stairs. Emitting from the bottom of the steps were flashing, multicolored lights.

Alicia grabbed my hand and we walked down. Suddenly, I was insecure about wearing my pajamas, but as we entered the scene, I saw most people weren't wearing anything too different.

Smoke curled over us, glowing with the unnatural light. Everyone was moving to the music; grinding on one another and swaying their hips. I saw hands bounce in the air as the beat literally rocked the building, Alicia dragged me ahead and I stared around in awe. A slight part of my heart ached and I was reminded of my home in Brooklyn--in the summer time, when me and my friends would sneak into abandoned buildings and do whatever we wanted. Of course there were far more people here, but the same things were happening more or less.

In the middle of the floor, two gangs huddled together, spitting verses and grinding each other up.

When we got closer, I noticed Marshall was hanging out with one of the gangs. He was drinking a bottle in a brown bag and smoking a blunt.

I smiled and nudged Alicia. "Hey, I think I see Em."

She stared in the direction I was fixated on and pursed her lips. "Oh."

"Should we go over?"

"You can if you want, I think I'm gonna find Shira. Wanna just meet up later?"

She didn't sound annoyed, which made me feel better about saying yes. She gave me a quick smile before walking off. A small part of me felt guilty, but I tried to push that feeling down as I walked towards Marshall. He saw me almost immediately and murmured something to his friend, then he began to approach me.

When we close to each other, I smiled. "I didn't think you'd be here." I admitted, grabbed his bottle and taking a swig. It was whiskey, but with a strange kick I couldn't identify. I took another taste to see if I could name it, but nothing came to mind.

Marshall watched me. "Yeah, me nether. When I was walking home from dropping you off I met up with some friends and well," he shrugged, "we came here."

We stared at each other for a few moments after that. Marshall grabbed the bottle from my hand and put it to his lips before bobbing his head back. "Wanna get outta here?" he asked, glancing back at his friends.

I perked up an eyebrow. "Don't you wanna rap or some shit?"

"Naw, that shit's dead now. A couple of clowns from the northeast came up and they're tryna' run the place," Marshall took another swig of the bottle, "if I stay any longer, I might fight someone."

I laughed and grabbed his wrist. "Well that would be bad, wouldn't it?" I bit my lip. "Lets go. Somewhere privet?" I batted my eyelashes and stole the bottle again. I took another sip and shuddered as the flaming liquid ran down my throat. I blinked back tears before loosely smiling, already feeling the warm effects of the alcohol take place. There must have been something else laced in it, but I didn't care. I liked the feeling. It made me feel warm and tingling, hyper and intimate. All I wanted to do was be close to Marshall.

He chuckled and scratched his chin. "I know a place where we can go."

And together, we walked out. Marshall wrapped his arm around my waist and slid his hand down my back pocket.

* * *

I've had plenty of boyfriends in my life.

Sex has been on my mind since I was fourteen. That's a bad thing to admit, isn't it? Because girls talking about enjoying sex is something that just doesn't happen. We're suppose to brush it off and feel indifferent towards it--maybe even feel a bit meek and shameful--until we're in the bedroom. Then we're instantly expected to transform into sex goddesses.

Oh, but if a boy had stated what I admitted, no one would think twice about it. These double standards have taunted me since I realized what they were, and I was tired of them. My family especially liked to preached to me about this, and every time I fight back with them. If they think they can shove that shit down my throat and I'll just take it, then they have another thing coming. I like dick just as much as men like pussy, and I see nothing wrong with that.

Staring up at the night sky, trees filling the edges of my vision, I realized I haven't seen Claire since I left for school early this morning. My fingers wrapped around the cross necklace she gave me as guilt swarmed in my stomach like butterflies. I'm fucked when I come home.

I was a little bit annoyed that I was thinking this as a boy's tongue danced around my clitoris, but I couldn't help it; I was always victim to a guilty conscious. With my legs already wrapped around Marshall's torso, I tapped his spine with the ball of my heel. "Em," I moaned.

He must of took that as a sign of pleasure, because he clutched my hips harder and went in deeper. I wiggled around and propped myself up on my elbows. Marshall's head poked up from between my legs and his eyebrows drew together. "What's going on?"

"I need to go home."

"What?"

His expression twisted in irritation and he slid his body away from mine. I wiggled on my pajama pants and thong, which were pulled down to my ankles. "She pro'lly thinks I've been kidnapped or somethin'." My speech was slurred and low. I focused on the empty bottle of whiskey that was tossed to the side and my eyes fell to squints. "Hey, what was in that? That's wasn't just whiskey..."

Marshall came up from behind and started to rub my shoulders. "Molly." he confessed.

I nodded, now understanding what that bizarre kick was. I sighed and bit my nails--a nervous tick of mine. "I need to go home. What time do you think it is?"

He nuzzled his head in the crook of my neck and moved his hands along my body before settling on my waist. "What does it matter?" he muttered.

"You do realize she's going to kill me, right? She told me not to hang out with you."

He barked out a laugh. "Fuck that! Just for tellin' you that, you shouldn't come home."

I hesitated, only feeling the soft breeze that danced with my hair. I wanted to stay like that for the rest of the night, but an annoying sense of responsibility haunted me. I needed to get home.

I wiggled under Marshall's grip and stood up. "Walk me home?" I asked, poking out my bottom lip.

He laughed and rubbed his eyes. "This is really happening."

"Really really."

Marshall stared at me for a few seconds, probably just to make sure I wasn't going to burst into a fit of chortles and yell 'just kidding!' He shook his head and went to his jeans' pocket. "Let me roll up first..." he grumbled.

I could still feel the molly running through my bloodstream. I wanted to move around; dance and jump and run and skip. I wanted to touch things--everything felt so soft and inviting, I just wanted to hug and squeeze everything I came in contact with.

Marshall finished rolling in what seemed like only a few moments. He stood up and grabbed my hand, which felt almost hot, and led me out of the forest we came to fuck in.