For the next 60 days I will be sharing a chapter a day of my first POP EROTICA novel. Bang Bang Bang, A summer of sin in Brooklyn.
The sun lit the sky from below the horizon and the oranges and purples turned Brooklyn into a giant dream. Sophie and Meghan were sitting in the back garden of Outpost.
Outpost is a kind of artsy café on Fulton. It is always fully occupied, all hours of the day and night, by pretentious, wanna be writers. If you have a screen play that is never going to sell, this is where you come to not write it. If you have a brilliant idea for a business that would never be realized, this was your place. Got a novel you’ve been working on for the past ten years, this is your place to not get it done. All the people with no future in art came here.
Not only was it a vacuum that swallowed up talent, it was the heart of all things futureless. They mostly played music of obscure or failed indie artists, with zero futures, who were always whining about this or that. The art on the walls was shit. Not literal shit, even though it could have been on many occasions. This place was so bad that even the servers had loser shoulders. But somehow the confluence of all these forces made it a pretty cool place to hang. At least everyone there was beautiful, in their own way.
Sophie looked worried.
“So what’s going on?” her best friend asked.
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“Start from the beginning.”
“We’ve been engaged for two years now Meg.”
“It’s been that long?”
“Yes, it’s two years in September.”
“A lot of people take some time to get married after they get engaged.”
“Yeah, I know, but that’s usually because of money.”
“True, you have a point.”
“Plus my dad said he would pay for the whole thing. He’s already mad that we’re living together, all he wants us to do is get married already.”
“What do you think the problem is?”
“I don’t know.”
They were on their third glass of wine, you could tell by the look in their eyes. These were two beautiful women; and the warm light from the sky and the lanterns in the garden just served to illustrate that point even more.
“I don’t know Meg; I think maybe we’re not for each other. It’s more than just the whole engagement thing.” Sophie leaned over so that only Meg would hear. “The sex is terrible.”
Meghan saw the loneliness in her eyes. “Have you thought about seeing a therapist?”
“A therapist? No, not really…” She threw away the answer as she shrugged.
The wine was doing its job.
“Where is the waiter?” Sophie said before emptying her glass. “You want another glass? … Waiter! Hey waiter!” she said spinning in every which direction.
A petite, model-looking young woman came over to the table, wearing her loser shoulders. She could not have been more than nineteen.
“Another glass of Shiraz for me, and a glass of ah, what was it again, another glass of Pinot for the lady,” Sophie said intimating a semi-drunk English woman.
Meghan and Sophie laughed; the waitress smiled and walked off.
“It’s kind of hard to believe the sex is terrible, you two are so sexy together.”
“Listen,” she slinked forward again, her thin fingers gently touching Meghan’s hand as a bolt of current shot through Meghan’s body. “We’ve been having sex for what, ten years? There’s nothing new we can do.”
“Has it always been terrible?”
“So, what do you think happened?”
“You want the truth?”
“Yeah. What do you think happened?”
“I think he’s fucking somebody else, I think he’s fucking Amanda,” Sophie said in a whisper.
“What?” Meghan inquired, even though she heard Sophie loud and clear.
“Either that or I’m just crazy.”
“Amanda. Really. Isn’t that what’s his name, ah Maurice’s wife? ... Cheating is one thing but fucking his best friend’s wife, that’s a whole different story.”
Sophie’s face got sad. Meghan saw her sadness.
“How do you know though?”
“I saw her looking at him one day and the look wasn’t the normal oh, let me check out Max, it was a knowing look; and right there I was like that dirty little bitch.”
“Do you have any evidence?”
“Evidence? No. But...”
“You sure you’re not just paranoid?”
“No, this is not paranoia. I know what I saw. She was eye fucking my man,” Sophie shot her a stern look.
“Eye fucking someone does not mean anything Sophie.”
“Yes it does!” her words slurred.
“I have to go to the bathroom.” Meghan used the statement to clear the air.
They both tramped off to the single occupant bathroom. It was a tight space. Meghan squatted over the toilet as Sophie fixed her almost non-existent lips in the mirror above the sink.
“You think I’m beautiful Meg?”
This was a strange question for Meg to answer because, well it’s a long story, but needless to say she thought the world of Sophie.
“Of course, are you kidding me, you are maybe the most beautiful woman I know.”
“Really? Thank you so much,” Sophie said looking at her drunk self in the mirror.
Meg was washing her hands. “You know you’re beautiful right?”
Sophie was silent for a few seconds. “Sometimes I don’t feel like it.”
Meg’s heart broke inside her chest. She hit the drier with the back of her hand. The breeze shot through her fingers and up under her skirt; and the buzzing sound; and the sweet smell of the hand soap; and her heart breaking; and Sophie’s sadness; and the alcohol walking through her veins all collided, and for no given reason – Bang.
Meg turned around and planted a kiss flush on Sophie’s mouth. Sophie had a sweet mouth, and the taste of the wine made it even sweeter. Meghan had experimented with women in college and every now and then she might have an encounter with a woman. She never considered herself gay or even bi. It was just something that she did.
Sophie, on the other hand, was pretty straight-laced. This was completely outside of her worldview, but for some reason she was totally turned on. Maybe it was the passion with which Meghan slipped her tongue into her mouth, the softness of her lips, her firm breasts pressed against hers, the gentle way Meg’s hands slowly slipped down to her backside. Sophie let out a gasp. Lost her breath; she could barely speak.
“Oh my God, what are we doing?”
She wanted to stop her best friend Meghan – what were they doing? But it felt so good, so fucking good to be wanted this badly. A tear came to her eye. This is how she wanted Max to want her.
“I’ve wanted to do this for so long Sophie,” Meghan mumbled with her mouth full of lips.
Meghan’s hands were in places and touching things in ways that two really, really good friends should not be touching each other. Sophie was lost in the passion and just went along, she just said fuck it and let go. She was open to being totally consumed, to being devoured, to being wanted this bad. This kind of passion was like a miracle at this moment.
Meghan had one of Sophie’s nipples in her mouth and two fingers inside of her in one moment, and in the next moment all Sophie knew was she was sitting on the toilet top spread eagle and Meghan was passionately eating her pussy with such meticulous fervor that she did not know what to say or do. Involuntarily some words stumbled out of her mouth.
“Why, why Meghan, why are you eating my pussy this good?” She started tearing up again.
Meghan’s fingers were hitting her g-spot and Sophie could feel the room tightening around her. She had not been in this place in years. All those “I am coming, I am coming,” she did when she had sex with Max, chalk that up to the work she did as a theater major at Clark Atlanta University.
Meghan could feel Sophie tightening around her fingers; and feel her thighs squeezing against her head. Sophie arched her back and let out an inaudible scream. And in the most vulnerable moment in her life she squirted all over Meghan’s face. Meghan was fully alive; she was her most alive watching this, her best friend having what may have been her first experience squirting. Meghan licked her lips and smiled. Life was beautiful.