Authors: Ava Michaels
Shit,
there pot must be some real good stuff. It wasn’t a road I wanted to go down
though.
“To
me cars are more like a girl. Girls are the best vehicles in the world because
two beautiful headlights in front, two great bumpers at the back,
self-lubricating when hot, finger touch ignition, automatic engine, oil change
every month, any type of pistons fit, multiple seating styles &
adjustments, great accessories, automatic and manual drive from both sides, and
ready for a test drive any time…”
Their
eyes went wide. I guess their pot wasn’t that great. Moments later they busted
out laughing.
"You’ve
got a point. For this example the car is a guy. You can't ever own someone,
right?" Karen was trying to expand on the topic.
I
thought about it. Aside from slave owners, that was true.
"So
then why do you think you need to buy the car?" she asked.
"It
sounds like you're mixing a few too many metaphors there," Sarah said.
"I think we all get the Pink Slip, but we never get the pink slip."
The
whole room burst into wild gales of laughter. Thankfully, we moved on to other
topics again and drank a little wine. The pies came out wonderfully and the
girls started in on theirs once it cooled. I thanked them for the use of their
oven, all the help, and stimulating conversation before I said my goodbyes and
headed back through campus to bring Jess some pie.
………
Winding
my way through the halls of my apartment building, I suddenly became very
popular. Boys and girls all said “hi” and “
whatcha
got there?
A pie?”
Dartmouth was known for its super
smart students, in case you weren’t aware.
I
reached the elevator door and pressed the up button. When the door came open
there stood Mr. No Name once again. Just my luck… He made me nervous! I stepped
inside and hit the button for floor seven.
"Wow
Elevator Girl, your apple pie smells delicious."
I
looked back at him and he had a wide grin on his face. Pervert meet pervert. My
sex brain had got the best of me lately but now Mr. No Name was spewing
perverted lingo out of his mouth. 'Jesus Penus,' I sighed in my brain.
"Well,
only that special someone gets a piece of mine."
What
the hell was I saying?
He
moved closer to me. He started sniffing. Shit. Maybe he was really just talking
about the pie and not THAT pie.
"That's
too bad..." I felt the sex beginning to drip off his words. Okay, what
fucking pie was he talking about? ‘My knees are weakening!’ I shouted inside.
"Is
it? You can move away from me now!"
"I
just wish the elevator would get stuck today. Then you'd have to let me try…
Your pie… It smells really damn good. I haven’t had good apple pie for a
while... It's too bad my mom lives thousands of miles away. She had the best
apple pie."
NO,
NO, NO. NOT HIS MOM’S PIE. Puke. I had to get my head out the freaking gutter!
"Okay,
enough about the pie. I thought you were moving," I said, hoping he would
say he was soon so I wouldn't have to deal with my lady parts feeling all weird
around him.
He
was more than I could handle at the moment. We were on two different paths
otherwise I would have actually thought about jumping him when had got stuck in
the elevator. Especially if I knew my date would have been that dreadful. He
wanted to settle down though, and I was just looking for a penis... Well, a
good penis...
To finally lose my V card with.
"I
am.
Today, actually."
Yes!
He's
finally moving!
I'll
never have to see him again!
Never
feel this way again!
"Bummer,"
I said as the elevator doors came open. "Well, it was nice seeing you
again."
"Remember,
if you need someone to eat your Apple pie I'm here!”
Then
the doors closed.
………
Finally,
I made it to my door.
When
I walked in, Jess jumped up like she always does whenever I enter the room. I
swear
,
she is like a high strung cat pouncing around
after too much catnip.
She
nearly made me drop my pie.
When
she saw what I had in my hands Jess’ eyes went wide with joy.
"What’s
that?" she said, not staring so much with desire, but more of a
psychopathic need that disturbed me a bit.
"A...
Pie..." I said, coyly. I could be coy. I could be a tease. However, my
ability extended only to pies.
"Uh…,"
she said with a little grunt. "What kind of pie?" she asked,
tentatively.
This
was getting weird. Some freshmen really missed pie a little too much.
"Apple...?"
She
sniffed the air and walked around me like an animal catching a scent.
"What
else..."
"You're
weird," I said with a tiny bit of fake fear in my voice.
"Is
that what I think it is?" she said deliberately, but couldn't keep the joke
off her face with a twitch of the side of her mouth.
"Apple...
Caramel..." I said, demurely as possible.
"That's
it!"
She
took the pie out of my hands and brought it over to the rickety kitchen table
we had laid out in our apartment bedroom. She retrieved the closest thing we
had to a pie cutter, a sharp set of scissors, from a jelly jar we used as a
pencil holder. Tiny bits of steam still snaked their way out of the open crust
and the blades of the scissors were coated with the golden brown caramel and apple
pies. It made the whole room smell like candy. Two gooey and sticky messy
pieces were transferred to two paper plates. Quickly, Jess produced one sort of
clean plastic spoon for me and a wooden spoon for herself.
I
couldn't help but smile. When you were blessed with the rare ability to bake
great pies at the age of eighteen, you become somewhat of a Mafia Don in
college. Students starved for some representation of culinary affection and
motherly love will trade drugs I didn't understand for a freshly baked pie.
We
both dug in. She moaned in a way that I thought maybe we should close the door
to our apartment. Between mouthfuls she tried to tell me something about my
dating account.
"Please,
do not spill my wonderful ambrosia-pie on the counter. Swallow,
then
tell me what you have to say," I said, with a
stern grandmotherly voice.
She
swallowed.
"You
got a message from some guy on the dating website. He seems pretty cool. Also,
he's really cute. This guy actually might be a good one to try out. But…"
So
she apparently has been logging into my account. Okay...
“But what?”
I asked,
anxiously waiting for her to just spit it out.
“It
seems like you’ve been messaging him already… Without telling me!
Mr. Big Stick!”
“Calm
down Jess. It’s not like I went on a date with him.”
“Yet…”
“He’s
always busy.”
“Well,
I think he’s not busy anymore.”
“What?
Did he ask to go out?”
She
didn’t say anything. I went over to log onto my account and see what Big Stick
said. As I did, Jess finished her pie and came over to gape on my shoulder.
"So,
he seems like a stud," she said, wiping pie from the corner of her mouth.
"You're
a pretty girl," I cooed to her and she smiled crookedly.
"Thanks...
I’m going to watch you respond to him no matter how nice you are to me though.”
I
looked at her and rolled my eyes. She was overly attached to this project.
Which was weird because it was my virginity.
It was like I
had a pimp.
“Now,
I checked out his profile," she said. "It's not too bad. He doesn't
seem like the type to weigh you down with bricks at the bottom of the
Thames."
Jess
was reading a book on serial killers in London.
“Yeah,
but a lot of bad people don’t seem that way,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
“Well,
you go out with him at a public place if you’re scared… Of the Big Stick!” she
shouted, throwing her one free arm in the air.
”You
say whatever comes to your mind don’t you,” I signed. “I just think crazy
things.”
"If
you’re thinking then you might as well say it! Honesty is my policy,” she said,
holding her hand to her heart.
“Whatever you say Jess.”
Maybe
I should say everything that came to my mind. It got Jess plenty of good
looking guys in bed. However, most guys are dogs and would stick it in about
any girl…
And any of their holes...
Like I
said,
dogs.
Now
that’s a thought that shouldn’t be spoken but it’s the truth.
“So,
at least he likes scotch and dogs, right?" Jess said, shrugging her
shoulders.
Shit.
Dogs.
"Yeah,
he seems tame enough, so at least I won't get slipped any Georgia Homeboy, as
far as I can guess, but I think he might be a bit boring. At least he likes
animals...."
Was
that the only thing we could say about him? The few messages we had back and
forth wasn’t anything to rave about.
Although, he did seem
funny.
"I
think there is a secret side to this guy," Jess said.
"No
underwear... eh?
And what about the name?
Big Stick?"
That’s
what caught my eye the first time he messaged me. I didn’t need some man whore
though. But maybe he was more of a Deuce
Bigalow
,
Male Gigolo type of guy. He had a dirty name but satisfied women in other ways
than sex. Then I could be the only one he pleasures sexually. I was dreaming.
"I’ve
already thought about it and asked him. He was a good baseball player in high
school and college.”
“And
is good with his big stick?”
“I
don’t think that is what he was saying… Now, he does like the Smashing
Pumpkins," I thought out loud. "It's so hard to figure someone out
from this stuff. I probably seem like a molester or a crack whore from my
profile."
"Just
send him another message anyway," Jess said through her laugh. "It
might turn out just fine.
Maybe better than fine."
Hell,
it couldn't hurt. Maybe this is where I could show my new swag. I hit new
message.
Me:
You can buy me a few beers at the Snake Pit tomorrow night at eight.
I
got that sheath and I seemed to be halfway to getting a knife of my own.
BigStick:
Nothing better than the Snake Pit. Don’t worry about paying for anything. I’ve
got you covered.
Me:
Such a gentleman.
BigStick:
Momma taught me best.
At
that moment a small drop of caramel hit me on the shoulder. I looked up to find
Jess hovering over me, shoveling another slice of pie in her mouth while
reading what I was writing.
“Tell
him you’re not wearing any panties,” she said, swallowing hard.
“Do
you mind? I promise I’ll let you read what I wrote when I’m done. Now let me
be
myself, please.”
“Fine.
Jeez! Just
trying to find someone to pop it for you…”
I
shook my head as Jess walked out of our room, still enjoying her pie and
leaving the door open.
At
least now I didn’t feel like I was on some kind of display. It was true what
they said that people would really let their inhibitions down when talking to
someone via instant messages. I comfortably told him I like to bake, read and
go hiking just as easily as I told him I like to sit in hot baths and soak,
wear lemon scented body lotion and put lavender powder in my bed after I’ve put
on fresh sheets.
He,
in turn, told me about his bird watching hobby, that he likes to search for
edible mushrooms and plants, that he has had the opportunity to travel to some
pretty exotic places and that he enjoys watching women sip coffee when their
lipstick leaves a ring on the cup. He seemed more outgoing than other guys on
the dating site.
I
was a little afraid that the comfort level was reaching the red indicator and
things could soon turn a little too steamy. Okay, I was wishing that.
Instant message sex?
That could be something new. No way was
I trying that.
We
solidified our plans to meet at the Snake Pit the following night and I signed
off, happy to be done with it and a little excited about the possibilities.
I
walked over to the pie I had baked to help myself to another slice and gasped.
There were about two inches of crust, two or three smashed apple pieces and a
couple of pathetic caramel strings left in the dish and that was it. Jess ate
the whole thing.