Holly Jennings walked out of the bathroom stall and over to the sink to wash up, avoiding eye contact with herself in the mirror until after both her hands and her reluctance were clear of any muck.
She was about to go through it tonight. She was about to bid adios to that tumor of hers that she called a cherry. It was going to happen and she knew it. But was it too soon? Some part of her conscience urged her to save it for that special someone. It could be the one she was meeting tonight, but that was a stretch.
She dried her hands with a couple of rough tri-folded paper towels from the dispenser mounted on the wall and then unzipped her purse to fish for her lipstick, screwing the lid open to apply another line carefully across the rims of her mouth to replace what had stuck to the glass she already drank from while she and Kirsten—friends since their first year at UMSL—awaited their “suitors” as Kirsty liked to refer them.
Kirsten said that she’d done it a total of eleven times in her life ever since she was fourteen (supposedly “not in a whoreish idiosyncrasy” as she put it) and that the feeling that blemished and overwhelmed you afterwards would always go through your body after every time as if it were your first. But the first time…there was always a first time, and the first would never compare with any of the others by a longshot. The first had to be important! It had to be perfect.
The thought of it still disturbed her to this day, the thought of the day when she was six and she caught her parents in the bedroom. Something had shadowed over her spirit that exact minute and for the rest of her life…and with it, also brought a tinge of curiosity, with a growth rate developing more and more as time progressed. What would that be like? As the days came and went after that horrific ordeal, she felt a growing famishing yearning within her. Part of her wanted to take her back to her happy place of Cabbage Patch kids and Pound Puppies…and the other remained there—an abyss swirling off into everlasting space that needed consumption, calling out to her like faint, distant whispers to feed the hunger.
Tonight the pleas would be answered. Tonight was the night the hunger would finally be satisfied.
Holly shook it off and took one more good look at her beautifully-perfected make-up and hair which Kirsten helped her with by lending her that kick-ass eyeliner she got recently, gently shifted her full, long brown hair that ran down in curls, adjusted the cups underneath her breasts, which she had not felt in vain about, cups to her were nothing but another fashion statement. Her breasts were her own and she couldn't be happier with them. She dusted off her cute bright blue fluffy v-neck women’s sweater that was on discount at Dillard’s, turned around to make sure the curves of her butt weren’t too protruding behind the tight denim bleached jeans that were also borrowed from Kirsten. Then she turned back around, fully inspected, Chinese-takeout-box modeled purse hooked around her shoulder, standing seductively in front of the mirror and smiled to herself.
What the hell are you worried about, anyway? Why should you be the one nervous? You’re gonna do fine, Holly. Just go out there and kick some ass. Tonight is your night, girlfriend! It’s all about you tonight!
She gave herself a wink and then exited the ladies’ room.
The loud and obnoxious banter from the patrons on the other side of the heavy door immediately rushed through the frame; laughing, calling to the bartender for more rounds, shouting at the mixed martial-arts event being aired live on the wall-mounted high-definition televisions; basically your typical Saturday night fiasco. She weaved her way through the crowd, being careful not to give any of these plastered guys the ass as she squeezed her way past to avoid an unpleasant groping.
She arrived within ten feet of their two-person table to find Kirsten sitting there, smoking her electronic cigarette she would use in places like this as a fashion accessory (“a way to fit in with the crowd,”) and chatting with some guy occupying her chair.
Damn it, she thought. There she goes doing her thing again. Holly thought. She admired her for her remarkable features. She was the Dali Lama of every man’s fantasy. Long, beautifully natural blonde hair, a pair of the most captivating blue eyes, size 36D breasts that were all hers, and those legs—god she wanted those the most; athletic, volleyball girl thighs earned from marathon, soccer, and other athletic activities that any adrenaline-junky like her would get nourishment from. All that meant nothing, though. She envied her for her courage, her dignity, her spirit, and loved her for it.
As with everything else, however, the cons were there to oppose the pros. With a total package like the one she had, guys were on her like big dumb grizzly bears on fresh honey, and she was never shy to take advantage of the attention once it came around, and it was pretty often.
Kirsten sat there puffing on her imitated cancer stick, grinning and laughing and talking with the young man until she glanced over to her, extending her smile and waving her over.
Holly sighed and tried to fight the pouting back. No, Kirsty, please don’t do this. This night was supposed to be special for me, you promised. I don’t know what your plans are with this guy and quite frankly I don't care, but I don’t want any last-minute changes!
Holly approached the table.
“Hey, Holly,” Kirsten said. “This is Bret, he goes to Columbia U and he's majoring in marine biology. He graduates next spring.”
She turned to him and forced a polite smile.
“Hi,” she said, giving a small wave.
He scanned her from bottom to top, smiling back.
“Nice to meet you,” he said.
He had to split. But before she could try to tell him to take a hike in a mannerly fashion, he was already up on his feet.
“Yeah, so the number and address is on the card,” he told Kirsten. “Come on out, it’ll be fun.” Bret looked at Holly with that same smile. “Your friend is welcome to come, too.”
Kirsten smiled raising the card in between her two fingers to indicate she wouldn't lose it.
“I’ll keep you in mind next time I’m in town,” she said.
Holly sat down opposite her friend.
“What was that about?”
“He lives over near Stalehigh Marina, he says he throws parties all the time on his yacht. He invited me—invited us—to come. I took down his information so I can keep him in my to-do list.”
Kirsten winked and displayed a mockingly vicious smile.
Holly nodded, smiling through tucked-in lips, and then took a deep breath.
Kirsten unscrewed the mouthpiece to her e-cig that served as a cartridge, fumbling into the small case for a new one.
“Damn, to think I just filled these fucking things last night. This one's already out?” She put in a new cartridge. “Hope this one isn't as feeble.”
She inhaled the cherry-scented nicotine-less all into her mouth and blew it through a pair of pursed lips, holding the device between her fingers inches away from her face, setting the image of a thrill-seeking, bad-girl heroine for the eyes she knew were looking upon her now.
“How are you feeling?” Kirsten asked.
“Good.” Holly said, sounding nonchalant and relaxed. “I’m good, you know…whatever.”
Kirsten pierced through her with her ice-blue eyes; she knew Holly long enough to read her thoughts.
“You’re nervous,” she said.
“No, I’m not,” Holly said, “Well, I mean…I’m more…concerned is more like it.”
“Same difference.”
Holly sighed and shot her a friendly shut up gaze.
“Hol, babe, you’re gonna be amazing. You don’t have to do anything, just chill out and let him do all the work; that’s the beauty of a date. He’s trying his best to impress you just to get in your pants, which is also a plus! The competition lies on the guys’ side.”
Holly fidgeted in her chair, looking away to the other side of the noise-filled establishment, trying to hide her reaction. As much as she admired and looked up to her, from time to time she felt that maybe her perspective on some things was a little g
arbled.
“You are gonna love it, girl. Trust me. I’ve got ten-plus points on my scoreboard and each one was more exhilarating than the last.”
Holly leaned in closer and spoke at a volume low enough not to attract any possible eavesdroppers nearby.
“Hey, Kris,” she said. “Tell me about it again?”
“What?”
“You know...”
Kris rolled his eyes jokingly as she exhaled. Here it is again, she could hear through her expression. It was like a scene in one of her favorite books, Of Mice and Men; she was Lennie begging his dependent partner George to tell him the story about how he would get to tend his new multicolored rabbits on the new big dream farm they were someday going to live in. Maybe so, maybe she was getting a little Lennie-syndrome, but it was only through this that she could relate with the big loveable retard. It only worked through someone whom you looked up to.
Almost immediately after the final word emerged from Holly’s lips, Kirsten brought back that wide and satisfying smile across her lips, dropping her jaw and threw her head back as if the memory of it had brought back that phenomenal feeling of uncanny ecstasy coursing through her body. Holly thought for a second that she might have squirted in her panties already.
“Oh my God, Holly,” she said, taking a puff of her e-cig and exhaling the drawn smoke through pursed lips before leaning in to carry on the private conversation. “It’s like the final stage in womanhood…it’s breaking free out of your ugly, rotted-out, mushy cocoon and emerging out into the world—out into the fresh air, big, colorful, beautiful and you can feel the wings on your back, enormous, powerful spreading above you and over every fucking limpdick on this whole fucking planet.”
Kirsten presented a hand, palm-up, for her dear friend to slap. Holly blushed, smiling comfortably and let out a whispered chuckle, responding to the high-five with a slap to the palm. Her friend laughed at the sight of her glowing face.
“You’re so cute when your cheeks get all rosy,” Kirsten said. “Gosh, sometimes I could just go dyke on you.”
Holly widened her eyes at first, shooting a look of protruding bewilderment…which died within half a second as the two young women burst out in a fit of laughter.
Kill the Cherry Page 2
