Oh, Liquid Love

My drink sloshed in my unsteady hands as I stumbled around aimlessly through this foreign house. How many drinks have I had, again? Did it matter? The rooms of the spacious house had a blanket of cigarette and marijuana smoke hanging around it. My clouded head was throbbing, so I placed a clammy hand over the bridge of my nose and rubbed, trying to relieve my headache to no avail.

I sauntered over to a group of boys with red cups in their hands, no doubt filled with some sort of an alcoholic concoction.

"Can I bum a smoke?" I asked, elbowing my way into the group.

One of the boys pulled out a blue and silver pack, pulling me out a cigarette and handing it to me.

"Oh, Smooths, my favorite," I smirked at him as I placed the nicotine tube between my lips. Another boy held a lighter in front of me and flicked it. I put the cigarette to the flame and inhaled, then pulled away. He placed the lighter back in his pocket. I pulled the cigarette out of my mouth and held it between my index and pointer fingers. Exhaling the smoke, I felt the slight head change that was brought along with mixing nicotine with alcohol.

Lighter Boy grinned at me. "Oh, redheads, my favorite," he said, trying to charm me.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure they're only appealing to you when one is standing in front of you, drunk."

"Nope," said Smooth boy, shaking his head. "Seth usually just likes to fuck redheads."

"Fuck redheads?" I repeated. I took the boy named Seth's hand and pulled. "Let's take a walk."

Smooth boy leaned his head toward another nameless boy. "Looks like Seth's getting laid tonight," he said as we walked away.

Nameless boy shook his head. "Lucky bastard," he muttered, then took a drink from his cup.

Slamming me up against the wall, Seth attacked my neck with rough kisses. "Oh," I breathed, running my fingernails roughly down his back. He moaned into my ear and pressed against me harder. Soon we found our way to the bed in the center of the room and fell back on it, Seth landing on me with a slight thud. I nibbled at his neck. He rubbed his groin against mine through his pants and my flimsy skirt, and I rose my hips to meet his nonrhythmic movements.

Before I knew it, clothes were falling every which way and we were fucking. Not making love, not having sex, fucking. That's the only way I could describe it. After we finished, he rolled off of me and onto the bed, his eyes closed and his breath becoming more shallow. I just laid there, eyes wide open, starring at the popcorn ceiling and tying to find some shapes within it. By the time I rolled over, he was already asleep.

I rolled my eyes and stood from the bed, stumbling slightly. I found my various items of clothing and put them back on. A black lace bra here, matching panties there, a pin stripe miniskirt, black cami and some plain black ballet flats. I exited the room and continued through the hall and down the stairs.

When I was closing in on the door I heard some whoops and whistled from the group I had found my recent endeavor at. I sighed and flipped them off, not ever turning around. All I seemed to have to show of the evening was a raging hangover headache already and a deflated ego.

I started down the street and pulled my cheap pre-paid phone out of my skirt pocket, checking the time. It read 2:17 AM. I half stumbled, half walked to the nearest bus stop and sat the eroded wooden bench, a weathered homeless man casting a look my way. I ignored him and rummaged in my skirt pocket for the correct change for a bus fee. Finding it, I thanked myself for planning ahead. That's me, I thought cynically, always thinking ahead.

The bus finally arrived and I boarded it, dropping the coins into the dispenser. I made my way to a seat at the back of the bus and sat down. Scooting in as close in as I could, I rested my head against the window. My dark brown bangs fell into my eyes, but I didn't have enough energy to bother with them.

Oh, liquid love, I thought to myself. People make you a lot more appealing than you're cracked up to be.