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Define Scarlet
Dump Scarlet
“I’m sorry. It’s over Letty.”
I throw my phone to the floor, hoping, just hoping, it’s shattered. The pain I feel is excruciating, my heart hasn’t just been broken, it has been obliterated. In the beginning of sophomore year I promised myself I wouldn’t get involved with a girl, that I’d pretend I was straight and stick to guys, but Lucy and I couldn’t stay away from each other. The sexual attraction won by a longshot, we ended up fucking in the stalls of the girls locker-rooms during class before we even knew each other’s last names. I mean, some people may call it lust confused with love, but I’d call it an oppressed emotion that exploded when it couldn’t be held back anymore.
Me, Scarlett Smith is single. I’m single and gay. I haven’t been single in two years, and the last person I was with before Lucy was a guy. And my school isn’t exactly…gay-friendly. Lucy and I kept our relationship on the down-low, but we spent every waking minute out of school together. Mostly with naked limbs entangled in a sea of sheets with the scent of fresh sex in the air as evidence of mind-blowing orgasms. But hey, our time together wasn’t all sex. Sometimes we went out to dinner.
We used to play ‘house’ in a sense. We’d get very dressed up, go to a fancy-shmancy place. She’d let me borrow one of her dresses, and do my hair for me, I’d do her make up. We’d look like a married couple, at least in our eyes. In others’ we looked like old friends. Or maybe we looked exactly as we were, two kids playing dress-up. Although I don’t know any kids that can make one another cum hard enough to cause a tsunami. I mean, I don’t know any kids that…well, point made.
“Get the fuck up.” My brother’s annoying voice manages to seep into my brain, leaving a stinging sensation behind my eyes already. I groan.“I’ll flip this fuckin’ mattress. I ain’t playin’."
“Hey hey, I got it." I push him away and sit up, rubbing my eyes. "Hey prick!” I call as he leaves, “how ya gonna make threats fit for a big guy when all you got is that pussy-ass spray bottle?” I laugh as I hear him curse me out from downstairs. Just a typical Monday morning.
I get up and make my way to the bathroom, finding the door closed. I sigh, knocking loudly.
“Trying to put on my make up, gimme a minute will ya John?”
“Ain’t John, Ma, it’s Letty. Can I just shower?” I lean against the door frame with a towel and clothes in hand. My mother opens the door in her stripper heels and fishnets, along with her brand new pair of tits. “Thanks.” I squeeze past her and turn on the shower, getting undressed. I had C-cup tits, not impressive but satisfying to me. My ass is plump and round, I’m no Latina bitch but I’m sure as hell a fortunate white one. My mother’s body however, is impressive. It’s also about three percent real. My mother looks me up and down and shakes her head.
“Shame you don’t wanna follow in your motha’s footsteps and become a professional dancer. You sure got the body.”
I roll my eyes and get in the shower.“Ma, you ain’t no professional dancer. You’re a stripper.”
“And? I make more money than any little ballerina out there. Don’t need to be no educated girl for that.”
I laugh half-heartedly, my mom always makes me laugh even when she’s being serious. Today, though, I can’t be bothered for real laughter. And as always, my mom can sense it.
“What’s wrong, Letty? You pregnant?”
I smile. I wish I was pregnant. "Nah. Just tired." I quickly wash up and get out, drying off and booting my mom out of the bathroom while I blow dry my hair. My hair is rather impressive. Long, thick, dark brown and fairly wavy. I have one side of my head shaved to right behind my ear, my lobes stretched to an inch and a half, and a few facial piercings. Nothing drastic. Just an anti-eyebrow and nose piercing. Getting my eyebrow done for my sixteenth birthday. I’ve always loved the alternative side. I do my eyeliner and mascara quickly, staring myself in my grey-green eyes before nodding in satisfaction at my appearance. It’s acceptable, but I’m no heartbreaker today. More like the heart-broken.
I head down to the kitchen where my brother Brandon is and sit down next to him. I look at his plate of eggs incredulously and then the pan in the sink.“You cunt! You didn’t save me any?”
My mother walks in.“You know I don’t like that word.” She sings as she shuffles in her heels to the fridge to grab a beer. Morning drinker. Basically sums up my family in two words.
Some people might say that my family is class-less, or some shit like that. We do things our way, others do it theirs.
I run out the door seeing the time and head for the bus stop. I haven’t been to the bus stop in years, but I suppose I’m forced to go now that my girlfriend won’t be – excuse me, ex-girlfriend, won’t be picking me up in her shiny red convertible. It always matched her nails somehow, and she always wore red lipstick she was like fire and ice with her pretty blue eyes and fierce wardrobe. And somehow she always managed to seem delicate and fragile to me, something I thought would never in a million years be able to attract me. But she has her ways of pulling you in, I guess she has something I envy. I don’t know how to flirt and she’ll make your heart melt with a flirtatious giggle.
The bus arrives and I walk up the three steps to glance around searching for a seat that wasn’t there. I see a girl with headphones in, short black hair, a leather jacket on. She has a mysterious look to her but she’s the only one you oddly seemed inviting to me. Her chocolate brown eyes watch me as I approach her. I point to the spot beside her and she gives a sharp nod, so I sit. She was polite enough to take one headphone out of her ear that was on the side of me.
“Thank you.” I say shortly, looking ahead.
“No problem.” Her voice, was like…how do I explain something so erotic? It’s like when you watch a sex scene on the TV and its slow and all seductive you know? Your whole body aches and you don’t know which character you want to be, you kind of feel like you’re both of them. And you can feel yourself getting hot to your very core – not just in your pants. It was like velvet. It’s was like a heating pad during a fucking menstrual cycle. It also wasn’t America. British or some shit. She had this pouty lips that I couldn’t stop looking at out of the corner of my eye. Her bone structure was just simply beautiful to look at, it was like something out of a magazine. I avert my gaze until we get off. I mean, until we get to school.
“Pardon.” I turn at un-American sound. Her big dough eyes were staring into mine as she held out my phone to me.“Right, it fell out of your pocket when you were sat down.”
I furrow my eyebrows at the way she speaks. I take my phone carefully and nod in thanks. I quickly scurry to my first class without waiting for the bell to ring, I don’t want to deal with Lucy so early in the morning. Little did I know she wasn’t the only thing I have to deal with.
"Miss Smith, perfect. I wanted to speak to you before class starts anyways.”
Great.
I throw my phone to the floor, hoping, just hoping, it’s shattered. The pain I feel is excruciating, my heart hasn’t just been broken, it has been obliterated. In the beginning of sophomore year I promised myself I wouldn’t get involved with a girl, that I’d pretend I was straight and stick to guys, but Lucy and I couldn’t stay away from each other. The sexual attraction won by a longshot, we ended up fucking in the stalls of the girls locker-rooms during class before we even knew each other’s last names. I mean, some people may call it lust confused with love, but I’d call it an oppressed emotion that exploded when it couldn’t be held back anymore.
Me, Scarlett Smith is single. I’m single and gay. I haven’t been single in two years, and the last person I was with before Lucy was a guy. And my school isn’t exactly…gay-friendly. Lucy and I kept our relationship on the down-low, but we spent every waking minute out of school together. Mostly with naked limbs entangled in a sea of sheets with the scent of fresh sex in the air as evidence of mind-blowing orgasms. But hey, our time together wasn’t all sex. Sometimes we went out to dinner.
We used to play ‘house’ in a sense. We’d get very dressed up, go to a fancy-shmancy place. She’d let me borrow one of her dresses, and do my hair for me, I’d do her make up. We’d look like a married couple, at least in our eyes. In others’ we looked like old friends. Or maybe we looked exactly as we were, two kids playing dress-up. Although I don’t know any kids that can make one another cum hard enough to cause a tsunami. I mean, I don’t know any kids that…well, point made.
“Get the fuck up.” My brother’s annoying voice manages to seep into my brain, leaving a stinging sensation behind my eyes already. I groan.“I’ll flip this fuckin’ mattress. I ain’t playin’."
“Hey hey, I got it." I push him away and sit up, rubbing my eyes. "Hey prick!” I call as he leaves, “how ya gonna make threats fit for a big guy when all you got is that pussy-ass spray bottle?” I laugh as I hear him curse me out from downstairs. Just a typical Monday morning.
I get up and make my way to the bathroom, finding the door closed. I sigh, knocking loudly.
“Trying to put on my make up, gimme a minute will ya John?”
“Ain’t John, Ma, it’s Letty. Can I just shower?” I lean against the door frame with a towel and clothes in hand. My mother opens the door in her stripper heels and fishnets, along with her brand new pair of tits. “Thanks.” I squeeze past her and turn on the shower, getting undressed. I had C-cup tits, not impressive but satisfying to me. My ass is plump and round, I’m no Latina bitch but I’m sure as hell a fortunate white one. My mother’s body however, is impressive. It’s also about three percent real. My mother looks me up and down and shakes her head.
“Shame you don’t wanna follow in your motha’s footsteps and become a professional dancer. You sure got the body.”
I roll my eyes and get in the shower.“Ma, you ain’t no professional dancer. You’re a stripper.”
“And? I make more money than any little ballerina out there. Don’t need to be no educated girl for that.”
I laugh half-heartedly, my mom always makes me laugh even when she’s being serious. Today, though, I can’t be bothered for real laughter. And as always, my mom can sense it.
“What’s wrong, Letty? You pregnant?”
I smile. I wish I was pregnant. "Nah. Just tired." I quickly wash up and get out, drying off and booting my mom out of the bathroom while I blow dry my hair. My hair is rather impressive. Long, thick, dark brown and fairly wavy. I have one side of my head shaved to right behind my ear, my lobes stretched to an inch and a half, and a few facial piercings. Nothing drastic. Just an anti-eyebrow and nose piercing. Getting my eyebrow done for my sixteenth birthday. I’ve always loved the alternative side. I do my eyeliner and mascara quickly, staring myself in my grey-green eyes before nodding in satisfaction at my appearance. It’s acceptable, but I’m no heartbreaker today. More like the heart-broken.
I head down to the kitchen where my brother Brandon is and sit down next to him. I look at his plate of eggs incredulously and then the pan in the sink.“You cunt! You didn’t save me any?”
My mother walks in.“You know I don’t like that word.” She sings as she shuffles in her heels to the fridge to grab a beer. Morning drinker. Basically sums up my family in two words.
Some people might say that my family is class-less, or some shit like that. We do things our way, others do it theirs.
I run out the door seeing the time and head for the bus stop. I haven’t been to the bus stop in years, but I suppose I’m forced to go now that my girlfriend won’t be – excuse me, ex-girlfriend, won’t be picking me up in her shiny red convertible. It always matched her nails somehow, and she always wore red lipstick she was like fire and ice with her pretty blue eyes and fierce wardrobe. And somehow she always managed to seem delicate and fragile to me, something I thought would never in a million years be able to attract me. But she has her ways of pulling you in, I guess she has something I envy. I don’t know how to flirt and she’ll make your heart melt with a flirtatious giggle.
The bus arrives and I walk up the three steps to glance around searching for a seat that wasn’t there. I see a girl with headphones in, short black hair, a leather jacket on. She has a mysterious look to her but she’s the only one you oddly seemed inviting to me. Her chocolate brown eyes watch me as I approach her. I point to the spot beside her and she gives a sharp nod, so I sit. She was polite enough to take one headphone out of her ear that was on the side of me.
“Thank you.” I say shortly, looking ahead.
“No problem.” Her voice, was like…how do I explain something so erotic? It’s like when you watch a sex scene on the TV and its slow and all seductive you know? Your whole body aches and you don’t know which character you want to be, you kind of feel like you’re both of them. And you can feel yourself getting hot to your very core – not just in your pants. It was like velvet. It’s was like a heating pad during a fucking menstrual cycle. It also wasn’t America. British or some shit. She had this pouty lips that I couldn’t stop looking at out of the corner of my eye. Her bone structure was just simply beautiful to look at, it was like something out of a magazine. I avert my gaze until we get off. I mean, until we get to school.
“Pardon.” I turn at un-American sound. Her big dough eyes were staring into mine as she held out my phone to me.“Right, it fell out of your pocket when you were sat down.”
I furrow my eyebrows at the way she speaks. I take my phone carefully and nod in thanks. I quickly scurry to my first class without waiting for the bell to ring, I don’t want to deal with Lucy so early in the morning. Little did I know she wasn’t the only thing I have to deal with.
"Miss Smith, perfect. I wanted to speak to you before class starts anyways.”
Great.
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