Two days ago, I had the best experience of my life, all thanks to my dear college friend Sarah. We hadn't hung out in a few days, so I figured it would be a good time to pay a visit. I headed to her place, we had the usual plan—Weed, music, and shooting the shit for the night. We weren't ever involved—she had a boyfriend the whole time I've known her, and she started to become a bit of a sister figure.
I knew the gate code for her apartment, so I let myself in, as I had many a time before. I took the elevator up, and stumbled onto a fight.
"Fuck you!" yelled Sarah, just outside her door, tears streaming from her eyes. Her boyfriend—the douche—was walking down the hallway.
"Fuck you too!" he yelled, just as loud.
"Fuck you!" she yelled again, this time, even louder. A couple of people poked heads out of their doors to see what was going on. Her boyfriend, probably ex by now, simply flipped her off, and slammed into me as he passed, for good measure. We never did like each other. I shrugged, didn't feel like getting into it with a scene already going down, so I just continued down to hall to my friend, who by now had sunk onto the floor, sobbing. I stooped down and put her arm around my shoulder, and ushered her back inside to her apartment.
Her brown hair was a mess, and her matching eyes were red from crying. She had a gorgeous tan and beautiful full lips. Her makeup was running from the tears. I have to admit, though, even if you painted her in that moment, she'd still be beautiful.
She continued to sob. And sob. She bawled a bit too. I tossed my backpack to her when she finally took her face out of her hands. She knew where to find my pipe and weed. She put it on the table and sheepishly indicated a joint on the table.
"Smoke," I said, with a smile. "You need it. Wanna talk about it?" I said, moving into the kitchen. A portion of the wall was cut out into something of a frame, so we could continue the conversation as I fished her refrigerator for beer. I pulled out four bottles and returned to the table, opening two. She took a deep drag and sighed, lying down on the couch. I pulled a chair up, and we talked, just casually, nothing heavy. Her good mood finally came back after about three hours, four beers, and however many bowls and joints we managed to smoke in that time.
"So, how was it?" She asked. I'd transitioned to the couch when she sat up a while back.
I could only smile in response. Her face brightened to.
"Yeah? Good?"
"Very. We're going to meet up again."
"Mike! That's great!" She was beaming now. "So, what'd you guys do?"
"Met up Dolores, did the usual stuff there and headed back to my place for pizza."
She gave me a furtive glance.
"She wanted veggie pizza," I shrugged. "We had to bake it, though."
She nodded. "Romantic," she said, with a slight dramatic roll of her eyes. All in fun, though, she was still smiling.
"So... Who's idea was it to go to your place?" she said, now mischevious.
"We had to bake the pizza somehow."
"M-hm." She wasn't impressed. She wanted more story. "And what else did you do?"
"Smoked, drank, ate."
"Ugh, come on Mike! It's killing me, I've been trying for two days to get a story out of her, and she keeps telling me to ask you!"
I blushed a bit. Well, we were both adults, it wasn't like she'd be too shocked.
"Errr... She's a fiery girl," I said, trying to take the high road.
She got a mischevious gleam in her eye. The teasing begun.
"She work the shaft?" She couldn't finish saying it before giggling. "Jump on the pogo stick, hmm?"
I burst into a gigglefit myself, high, and on the road to drunkenness.
"Jazz the glass? Shoot the pearl?"
"Is that surfing?"
"Plant the seed? Ride the racecar?"
"Racecar? What the fuck, Sarah?"
We both lost it. Neither of us regained composure for at least ten minutes, tears streaming down both of our faces, sides splitting.
"We didn't... Have sex."
"No?"
"Not an inch of penetration."
"Bullshit!"
"She's a virgin, unless she's lying."
"So... You haven't touched her?"
"Well, kinda."
"Finger her?"
