Upper Six (Completed, Being Edited)

Nine: Tongue Ty-ed

I really wish that I had worn my Comfort Plus sandals. Don't get me wrong; style-wise, the shoes that I am wearing are my absolute favourite. However, they are definitely not ideal for standing in a long ass line to get into an overcrowded outdoor restaurant. I want to groan, but I'm afraid that I'll annoy Laura more than she already is; judging by the way she's shifting her weight in her shoes, she's quite annoyed.

"Fuckin' hell wid dis  rass," she mutters under her breath.

I stay silent. I've learned overtime, that when Laura gets like this it's best to just shut the fuck up. She continues to fume, complain under her breath, as I just stand there and do nothing.

"Fuck dis," she hisses, bending over to take off her shoes. "Call On Time, Fiona."

It's a command, not a question, not a suggestion. She makes me feel like a child and I hate it. There are so many different ways that she could have said it, but she had to say it like that.

"Mi a yuh girlfrien', Laura?" I ask in the calmest voice that I can manage. It sounds eerily calm, unnatural.

"Uhhh," she responds. She doesn't know what to say.

"All-doe we did to go pon one date today," I begin, cutting her off, "Mi a nuh yuh girlfrien'. Not yet. You haffi earn dat tikle. An' yuh can staat by nuh treatin' mi like seh mi a yuh bitch."

I realise that I'm speaking in creole to her, something that I only do when when I am very comfortable with the person. I realise that she is, too.

"Wah dat mean?" she asks in both confusion and annoyance.

"It mean, do' chat to me any fuckin' way—"

"Listen me now," she growls. "Call. Di bloodclaat. Taxi. Now."

And so I do, but not before I give her the worst cut eye that I can manage.

"Cut eye, cut eye, cyaa cut me in two—"

"Dat's childish," I grumble, already deciding that I'm going to make her regret what she just did. She smirks, not knowing that I plan to absolutely and completely fuck her over.

"Mi know," she murmurs, with a smirk. As if this is funny. As if she is funny. "A suh mi stay."

What a bitch.

***

Laura took me to her house and cooked pasta for me. I expected her to feed me; as in, I knew she wouldn't let me starve. What I didn't expect is for a short boy by the name of Tyrone Fenton to be sitting in her living room, sprawled out on the sofa. The first thing I noticed about him, when I first entered the room, is that he's really friendly. Or, at least, he appears to be. Well, I just met him, after all. It never fails to surprise me how Laura can be so fucking miserable, but have such pleasant friends. However, now, as I sit beside him on the couch, I pick up that there's something... different about him. It feels mysterious, and slightly dangerous, as if he has something dark and fucked up brewing underneath his friendliness. Makes sense; he is, after all, Laura's friend.

"You go to Mary, like Laura?" he asks.

"Yeah," I reply.

He regards me meticulously, analysing me. It feels as if he can see straight into my soul. It's uncomfortable. Very fucking uncomfortable.

"You're upset," he concludes. I feel my face from the inside out. It's blank. There's nothing there that would reveal my feelings. Or at least, that's what I think.

"I can see it in your eyes," he states, as if he could sense my question.

"Oh." That's all I can say, because I don't know how to feel about having my mind invaded by a complete stranger.

"What's wrong, if I might ask?" he questions as he shifts his weight to face me. At first, I say nothing.  I just look into his face, like an owl.

"She's a bitch," I eventually say. It comes out as a whisper, barely audible, but the strength and anger behind my words is definitely there.

"Laura?" he asks with a raised brow and a grin. His grin annoys me. The humour in his eyes annoys me. Any happiness that other people might have at this moment pisses me the fuck off.

"Yes," I growl.

"A wah mi do?" he asks me, his grin broadening. I want to punch his teeth in. Wow, Laura's aggression is wearing off on me.

"Stop smiling," I growl. This only causes him to laugh. A rather perverted thought crosses my mind when he does that. This boy has the smile of an A grade pussy eater. The way his lips turn up at the corners... I just imagine them curling around my clit—

Stop it. Now.

I remember my irritation, and I cling to it in a desperate attempt to keep from being turned on. I kiss my teeth and cut my eye at him.

"Don't be like that, sweetheart," he murmurs, only serving to piss me off more. He's cute, and under normal circumstances, I'd definitely fuck him. In the blink of an eye. However, we aren't under normal circumstances, and I can't get this bitch out of my head. But as I look at him there, grinning at me, I realise just how much I miss penis. I've only ever done it twice, and the second time, the boy rearranged my insides. I couldn't walk the next day, but it was completely worth it. Additionally, I could use this opportunity to exact my revenge on Laura. I think he sees the look in my eyes change, because a brief flash of surprise crosses his face, before he replaces it with a wider grin.

"So you say you're not Laura's girl?" he asks as I inch closer to him. God, I feel like such a whore.

"No, I'm not." Technically, I'm not committing an actual lie, because we aren't together. We never made that agreement, not officially, at least. However, it is a lie of omission, as I intentionally leave out the part where we're actually fucking, and she's one of the most jealous people that I've ever met.

"No," I say, trailing a finger down his arm. "I'm just a friend."

***

In all of my life, I've never experienced a boy who can eat pussy like Tyrone Fenton. Fucking hell, the boy has a tongue. A tongue that will bring most women to their knees. I look down at him as I sit on his face, tears actually gathering in my eyes.

"Holy, fucking, shiiiiiiiitttttttt," I moan, my voice breaking on each word. He chuckles into my pussy, which only serves to make me wetter. I feel as if he's scuba diving in my cunt, and when he starts so simultaneously suck on and lick my clit, I scream. I hear the noise echo off the bedroom walls and ceiling. I'm about to come. I know it, I can feel it in the very marrow of my bones. I completely zone out of my surroundings. Well, almost completely. Because I suddenly become very aware when a flash of light enters the otherwise dimly lit bedroom. I look over my shoulder, and as I do, I briefly wonder if any of this was ever a good idea, because in the doorway stands Laura herself, keys in hand, and the look in her eyes is angry — no, it's furious — but even more than that, it's hurt, and betrayed. I want to close my eyes in shame, do something, but I can't. I look into her eyes as I come on her friend's face, and double over from the overwhelming pleasure. For some reason, her seeing me like this only serves to turn me on even more. I feel like the worst possible kind of shit.

"Fiona," she says, her voice raspy, dangerous. Although it's barely audible, Ty hears it, along with the dangerous intent behind it. I know that,because he instantly stiffens under me, and looks at me with fright, and a bit of anger.

"Tyrone. Get out. Now."

He shoves me off of him, and scrambles to the door,still fully clothed, pussy juice covering the lower half of his face, but not before sending me a frightening glare that rivals Laura's death stare. As he exits the room, I feel cold, because Laura steps in and locks the door, thrusting us into semi darkness. She says nothing, does nothing, just stands there, and in that moment, looking into her eyes, I get an idea of just how fucked I am.

Very. Fucking. Fucked.