Vagaries Of Youth
"My mom has serious problems," Cordelia said, looking through her mom's makeup drawer while I sat on the bed. Well, sort of sat. Gingerly rested my posterior on the duvet while Cordy rifled through the designer makeup...because, she said, I didn't have the right complexion to wear hers, but her mom's would look good on me. "I mean, really. Like I want to drink her sherry so much that she needs to put a lock on the cabinet. That was totally Harmony."
I smiled and nodded. Sometimes, being even on the outskirts of Cordelia's social circle was enough to give me the hives, because she got down to things that were far beyond my notion of party. Of course, Oz used to party with Cordelia, too, back when Devon was totally trying to get with her. "Vagaries of youth," he told me.
Oz was cool like that. But I wasn't with Oz; I was with Cordelia, who was complaining that her mother was locking things to prevent her from stealing. I felt bad, but I was kind of with Cordy's mom on this.
"Oh. My. GOD," Cordelia said suddenly, jumping back from the vanity like it had reflected a pimple or something. "There is not enough ew in the universe."
"What?" I asked, sliding off the bed to peer into the drawer. "Oh. That's surprising and icky."
"I'm so traumatized," whined Cordelia, falling against the bed dramatically. "That's the kind of thing she should be locking up. Not the liquor cabinet!"
I kind of had to agree, because okay. Finding your mom's jungle-print padded handcuffs right on top of a copy of Desperate Housewives 3? Not the good kind of surprise with ice cream sundaes and sprinkles and pop quizzes. I backed away.
"So should we bag the makeover? Are you too freaked?" I asked, hoping this meant I could avoid getting patronized because of my anti-fashion vibes or whatever Cordelia was calling it this week.
"As if," Cordy said, opening her oversized bag and sweeping in bunches of makeup. And the tape. And the handcuffs. "Come on. We're going to my room, because I am so not in the mood for any more surprises."
I couldn't believe my eyes. "You're taking the tape?" I asked in one of the squeakiest squeaks ever. "Why?"
"Aren't you kind of curious?" asked Cordy over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs. And I had to admit, I was. I really, really was. And as Xander or Oz might say, beat makeup. Of course, Xander and Oz were probably both cuter in eyeliner than I would be.
She was already settled on the bed and pointed me at the chair. "Do you think the guys do this?" she asked, dark hair settled over her bare shoulders. "Watch porno for fun?"
"They are guys," I said, crossing my legs.
"I guess so," Cordelia said dubiously, pressing play.
We sat there and watched for a while, and we totally didn't look at each other while Mary Honey tried to give her uptight husband fellatio, but of course, despite her perky breasts and overwhelming nakedness, nothing doing.
"This is so lame," Cordelia muttered, right when Mary started rubbing her own breasts to try to lessen the sexual neediness. "Why would she waste time on her boobs if she's that horny already?"
"So she could make whimpery sex noises while she played with them?" I suggested, looking her way and grinning. Cordelia was shaking her head and sneering, because wow, we were agreed on the dumb.
"No wonder boys are dumb about sex," said Cordelia. "If they really think we just sit around masturbating and waiting for a big penis to make us happy, they've got to be on some serious, serious drugs."
"No kidding," I said, looking back at the video. "Wow. I guess we know why she's Mary Honey, don't we?"
Cordelia laughed and laughed. "Geez, get a towel," she said, but she was kind of sort of watching, and after a few seconds, I was watching along with her, and wow. My mouth was dry and my pulse was sounding particularly thump-y in my chest.
And when I looked over at Cordelia, it got worse, because her mouth was sort of hanging open and her nipples were totally hard under her little sleeveless sweater.
"Should we turn it off?" I asked, quickly wetting my lips with my tongue. "It's kind of silly."
"If you want," Cordelia said, eyes glued to the screen as our heroine put on the tiniest little robe to open the door for who I was sure was going to be the cable guy or the mailman. "We can just ignore it, and I can do your makeup."
The next-door neighbor woman had a cake, and was just bringing it over because she'd made too much. Well, nobody was going to fault a porno for realism, even Devon had said. Once. When he was very stoned.
"It's kind of hard to ignore when Mrs. Busch from next door knows the best place to serve cake," I pointed out.
"Okay, it's off," Cordelia said, sounding irritated, pushing stop before pushing up off her elbows. "Makes you wonder why guys are into that stuff, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, with the moaning and the rubbing and the gratuitous licking," I said, looking at Cordelia. "Like we're turned on twenty-four seven."
"So unrealistic," Cordelia agreed, tossing her head proudly before catching my eye directly. We were there for a minute or two. "Want me to turn it back on?"
"Yeah," I said, swallowing hard. "Do you think we're betraying the sisterhood if we do?"
"I...really do not care," Cordelia said, pushing play. "And for the record, whatever happens during this movie? Never happened."
I nodded gratefully. "Totally and fully agreed."
Mrs. Busch was just then showing Mary how to blend chocolate and honey, and Cordelia fell back on her pillows with a soft exhalation of breath.
"Hey, Cordy?" I asked.
"Yes, Willow?" she replied in her best kind-of-annoyed voice. "I'm a little bit busy."
"I know," I said, my hands sort of drifting down my body as I watched one of her hands rest on her breast. "I was just wondering...think the boys do this, too?"