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Right Here Right Now Right Where?
Sharon Bowers

Hip and hop and "I am only cheerleading." Who the fuck believes that?

Obviously Torrance does. And I know that saying something to the contrary won't convince her. Looking incredulously at her doesn't have much of an effect either. "Shit happens" went over even worse.

I bend with the wind not against it. Breaking is for losers. But it looks like in this instance I don't have any choice. I skip or I cheer. One involves Torrance. The other doesn't.

Big surprise what I choose.

Smut hound... not exactly, but close enough for rock n roll. At least of the Bob Seger variety, and we won't talk about that indie punk shit that Cliff listens to.

They're brushing their teeth. For like four. Fucking. Hours.

Pearly whites aren't worth that much. Especially not when she comes to my bed.

Whoo Hoo. The big Lesbian scene.

I've played this a couple of times and I'm thinking that spooning through the night isn't going to win me any points with her. She's not the one for gradual revelations. Especially if they aren't of her own making. Though if I wait for her... well, Janis' whole "get it while you can" philosophy will go right out the window.

Instant gratification takes too long. I heard that in a movie once. Which one, I can't remember, but the line stays with me. Cause I'm not all about the build up.

She's pacing the floor with a phone in her hand when I wake up. Not exactly how I pictured the morning after--such as it was--but still... cheerleading references from her big gay boyfriend. And she only wants a pad and a piece of paper from me? Who does she think we're both kidding.

I've done this dance. And hell, yes, I'm going to do it again. Best game--not the only one--in town. Blond all the way down beats most other forms of delusion going.

Yum Yum Get Me Some...

Not the sort of cheer that Tore had in mind, and I don't think she likes her new nickname, but fuck that I'm on a roll.

Suck it or fuck it but that's not me and I'm so tired of Cliff's mooney eyes. Does he have any clue that if I'd gotten half the encouragement from Tore that he had I'd be putting in for some serious naked time with my captain oh my captain?

Fuck those pyramid thingies.

Jan's digits aren't going anywhere near my corner pockets, and it pisses him off that Les and I are stretching buddies. He took over when he--of the 14 other members of our squad--noticed me obliquely dry- humping Tore's leg as she bent me back into positions that would make a Penthouse Forum writer weep with a number of different bodily fluids that we won't discuss here.



Get. It. While. You. Can.

She never said anything about the other person noticing and that chivalry shit's for people who have seen "The North and the South" too many times on Lifetime the Network for Heterosexual Women.

Not that Patrick Swayze didn't have a nice ass, but the mullet hair had to go.

Before me, yeah, I know. Isn't cable great?

Evil Tubey is me.

And Oh My God How Many Times Are They Going To Make Me Share a Bed With Her?

In Florida. Two days before the National championships start. I'm screaming at the lemmings from the window.

I mean, honestly, if you don't have it by now, when are you? I'm loose and vaguely high, thanks to the case of Southern Comfort that Darcy's momma packed in her darling daughter's luggage. Daddy may be moneybags, but damn if Mommy doesn't have all the bases covered.

And yeah, so fuck me, I've got a fallback position.

She's as different as different can be from Tore and much more amenable to the kind of Diversity Training program a girl like me can offer.

So I obliged and damn if the reciprocation didn't about knock me on my ass. Tore who?

Oh yeah. That midriff. That smile. Those eyes.

Here I am.

Sorry ya'll.

She's laughing at me as I bait the wannabes under our window. We know that we're the shit and the poo ain't worth sniffing. I tumble onto the bed waiting for me, fall into her eyes at the same time, but I'm not sure she's paying the same kind of attention I am, so I tug gently at her elbow.


More than I've ever said, especially with the look that's in my eyes now. And I see it. Flinch kinda when I see it register in her eyes. Wonder what she's thinking for a moment and then it's her mouth and I don't need to any longer.

She's honey and vanilla and everything that a rich man's daughter should be, but she's angsting for something not of this index. When her tongue goes sliding down my throat, begging for more.

She tastes the SoCo that she didn't want earlier, even mixed and blended so smooth she wouldn't have tasted it. And I'm there and clamoring for more and just for a second I wonder if she has any idea what exactly it is she's asked for. Just for a second.

Nothing more.

We're there. The bed, the mattress really cause the sheets are history and were there even blankets to begin with.

Her body. That skin. And muscles that I didn't know either one of us had developed clutching around my waist. Begging... no, that's not her, but still... for... shall we say... more?

I'm inside her now and it's wet and hot and well... we're in the Florida tropics right? But that doesn't begin to do it, her, justice.

My mouth. My hands. My body. My life.

I kid myself if I say that I'm not in service of. Getting over... maybe I'll tell that lie to audiences I never dreamed of someday, but now, tonight...

I am hers.

She bucks and slows enough to allow me to catch her rhythm. I don't want to know if it--if I--am incidental enough to the proceeding to ask. I leverage the thrust and twist enough to slip down our slicksweat bodies.

She tastes like pomegranates.

Beveled abdomen and slide... those thighs... do they know the shoulders they fling themselves over?

Catch her on the upswing. Blue crush and ohmigod you didn't know it would feel like that, did you?

Eternity hanging on the crux of my mouth her hips.

This time... I swallow.

And too quick and too long it's over and she's clenching harder than I though possible. I feel her against my chin, my lips my tongue.

"Too much..."

I hear before she rolls away for just a moment before my cheek is resting on her hips. And we are one once more.

The day. The Lie. The Truth. Hardly X-Filian proportions, but why am I surprised when she kisses Cliff and not me? I am what made her come. He is what she can take home. What she can make sense of. And really, do I want more complications? I see Darcy glancing over at me. No equivocation there. But I know the truth of a sort is out there.

I turn to Torrance as she releases my brother... and I smile.