Cursing in Spanish
May
They really shouldn't be doing this. Fucking behind the chapel of baby Christ in a heap of limbs and forbidden pot and broken dreams was fine but this, the rest—the rest wasn't in any way here nor there. The Spanish woman with her hand tangled in Cersei's hair that hadn't seen proper grooming in weeks (not since the cosmetics import got thwarted by that freakish nun-guard, damn her, those pesky, bloated, all-finding fingers), Cersei's breath ghosting over an olive-skinned shoulder with no intention of licking or biting (any further), their bodies finding an absurd state of unhurriedness at the end of the scramble—no, Cersei Lannister did not do intimacy.
It'd started out simple enough—an odd little thank you Cersei felt she'd owed the woman for pulling in a number of favors for her.
Cersei had been the target of some Mexican tarts' relentless bravado at the time. Apparently the burritos couldn't stand a woman superior to them in every sense of the word, so they made sure their greasy feet were all over Cersei's neck at every second. It'd started out with small comments, but it grew rougher by the day.
"Hold it, puta," a bulky brown thing had blocked Cersei's path one day as she was leaving the vile open showers. "Your damn pendejo is jamming the drain again."
Cersei had blinked up at the woman and to that day she did not remember the face, just the word INSOLENCE beaming a bright, eye-damaging red where the head should be, dull and propped up on two feet like a signboard. "What did you just say to me?"
"Said you're a white fucking vampire, is what my chica said," another tramp chimed in, coarse and boorish in that dumb lowborn accent where every r was a word all by itself. "Your cunt hair is the fucking Tarbela Dam."
"We know it's yours cus ain't no other platinum bitch in this prison," a third faceless monkey was bellowing. "Now you gon' walk your skinny ass back there, pick it up and I don't give two hoots if you be swallowin' it, but you gon' clean it up like any other bitch in here."
Soon there was a whole mudslide of red-faced broads and Cersei would love nothing more than to have Gregor plow through them all, but then she remembered—Gregor was not there. She was on her own here, had been on her own ever since she'd smashed that vase into Robert's huge thick skull, and fierce as she might be, inconveniently she was no Hulk like some of the creatures around here. Perhaps that's why the beasts were picking on her—she was reminding them with her body of what they could never be.
They were backing her into a corner then and she could not—would not breathe in the smell of them, the air heavy—suddenly the place was too constricted, Cersei was suffocating, suffocating on the stink of blue-collar trash—
Another sultry Spanish voice cut in like a sleek needle, and Cersei felt the whisper of a body close to hers, dark smooth palm pressed lightly to her shoulder. Taena Merryweather, the sole Spaniard behind these bars and the only thing around beside Cersei that was remotely feminine. Cersei had always wondered how the woman kept flying under everyone's radar despite maintaining a distinct female mien.
With curious detachment she observed the woman speak her silly language in a vaguely appeasing tone, watched the body language of the monkeys shift and alter. It was one of those rare moments Cersei knew better than to open her mouth.
"Perra mimada incestuosa," the one Cersei had dubbed head ape ranted as she glared, but the others threw their arms around her this time, a safety net of swarthy oily tentacles.
"Don't bother with the white trash hermana, she's all about intrigante and cunt disease from her familia rica."
Fucking tamale sluts. Their single advantage was they bred like rabbits. Unless their plan was to take over the States by screwing every white thing that moved they were done for.
They exchanged a few more lines with their European kin before one hag spewed a ball of disease-carrying spit at Cersei's feet and all of them made their retreat in a close-packed mob of brown.
"What did you say to them?" Cersei demanded before Taena Merryweather could disappear into the showering area, towel already slipping off her chestnut shoulder.
"Oh I promised them discounts on some goods this month," the woman waved dismissively and smiled sweetly. She had straight white teeth and a Monroe beauty spot.
Cersei's eye twitched in consideration. A smuggler. Who would've guessed?
"Do you know what I'm in for?" Cersei asked, a hidden warning if this woman was about to start any games with her. Let it be known what she'd done. If there was one good thing about this place it was that she was allowed to wear her so-called crime as a badge of honor.
Taena didn't seem fazed. "Everyone knows what you're in for, darling," she drawled, all seduction, like she'd be getting off on Cersei's case as soon as she slid behind the corner. "You were all over the news, you know."
Cersei wondered, briefly, what the Spanish woman had done to be in here, but decided there was no reason to care. "Why help me? You owe me nothing."
The woman laughed. "And now you owe me something. Isn't that nice?" Of course. Favors had to go both ways. That much remained the same on the outside and in here. Very well. Cersei would pull as many strings as she still had access to. She did not want word getting out that she didn't exactly have her father's ear anymore. (Seven months, one visit. And to tell her some journalist was doing a story on her case, that she was to answer no questions under any circumstances. He'd left her as soon as she'd started asking about her children and Jaime, why none had come visit her yet. He hadn't been back since.)
"How about lunch?" the Spanish voice was asking, the question as ambigous as rubber on a dick, as out of place as Cersei was in this prison.
Cersei blinked. "Lunch?"
Taena's face was not that of a jokester. "Will you have lunch with me?" Those jade eyes insisted above the equivocal quirk of the full dark lips.
They had lunch.
Everyone stared. Well, most of them did. Cersei didn't hate it. She felt weirdly untouchable that whole afternoon.
"What are those bitches saying about me?" she'd asked one time. The Hispanic fucks were bullying her again, the knock-off on Taena's products apparently no longer a valid excuse for Cersei to be left alone. "Tell me."
"From what I gather they're no fans of your... ah, personal grooming," Taena supplied tactfully. "Apparently some of them don't like taking showers after you. They're just searching for excuses, if you ask me," she was quick to add when Cersei's mouth twisted. The woman was always mindful of Cersei's moods, a quality Cersei appreciated.
"I got that, and it's preposterous," Cersei huffed. She hadn't had a cleaning lady all her life to end up scraping shower drains in some lowly prison.
Taena eyed her rather suggestively. "I can see that."
"One of the cunts called me a puta. Puta, what does that mean?"
Taena sighed, but chuckled. "It means, her mother didn't do an outstanding job raising her."
"I took up Spanish in junior high, you know," Cersei muttered, shifting her eyes from her freshly done nails to her Spanish friend. (Nail polish had turned out to be a regular part of Taena's surprisingly diverse cargo, a small miracle Cersei was ever grateful for.) "I'm not stupid. I know what incestuosa means. They have no right."
She didn't care what the rumors said. No one could know about her and Jaime.
Taena looked at her without judgment. She had a way of doing that. Her face was… intrigued, maybe. Slightly amused. Christ, that woman always had a look about her like there was a clown living in her head, telling clever jokes exclusively for her.
Truth was, Cersei didn't really know a great deal of Spanish. If she was being honest words had jumped off her like rain from concrete back then. She'd had much more important things on her mind, like the cheerleaders tryouts and dinners with father's clients, and taking showers at the exact right time so Jaime would walk past the half-open door or catch sight of her as she dried off...
"They just feel threatened," Taena purred. "They see a gorgeous white woman who was born calling the shots, it makes them nervous. They're afraid you'll steal their little kingdom from under them."
Cersei looked the Spanish woman askance. "You aren't?"
Taena had quite the shrug shoulders; quite the nerve to be looking at Cersei the way she was. "I like a little danger."
The next few days had been spent testing that bit. Cersei would challenge, Taena would carry out. Switching monkeys' medications, pitting allies against one another, even pulling antics on that raving lunatic Unella. The Spanish woman backed away from no challenge. Cersei found herself enjoying the perks of an eager Hispanic minion. Taena turned out to be much more resourceful than she looked. Cersei didn't know if it had something to do with the Spanish gene but the woman had a talent for materializing oceans of crack with the snap of a finger. Prison was suddenly as laughable as it was depressing.
At some point Cersei had deemed it a good idea to reward her newfound pet-bitch.
So she'd dragged her into her cube while the fat bloated thing that lived on the other side of it snored and snored, and given the woman a hand job to remember. Taena's cunt sucked in her fingers as if they were a dish she'd been awaiting all week. Cersei was surprised at how little she felt for the woman as she muttered filth into her cheek and ear. She'd often made jabs at Tyrion for being a human vibrator. Who would've guessed she'd end up as one, too? However, Taena was very grateful and that was something Cersei could work with.
Taena had the Niagara Falls for a pussy and Cersei ended up telling the guard some bitch had taken a piss on the floor. (She wasn't cleaning that up.)
Forced and unrewarding as the whole thing was, she still had Taena worshipping her by the end of the week. While the woman was no Jaime, Cersei figured she was no Robert, either. She let Cersei take charge of things and was very eager to please. And while Cersei found herself missing the way Jaime would drag sweet, harsh, eye-watering surrender from her as he rutted above her or behind her, Taena's mouth was an adequate substitute. It was like coming down from the most luxurious vintage to some austere, shoddy working-class swill: a hollow ride for the most part, but still mostly got you where you were headed.
She decided Taena would just about do for the time being.
But amidst the exaggerated sighs and very blunt overreaching on Taena's part, Cersei had found something far more valuable—an ally. With Cersei's connections on the outside and Taena's contraband net on the inside, the two of them were untouchable. Even the Mexicans knew better than to openly attack Cersei now, although they still whispered when they thought she wasn't looking.
Things were finally somewhat falling into place in this hellhole.
Only Taena was starting to get ideas, Cersei could tell, and she would not have the woman think this was about them and not just a mutual business.
"I love your fingers," Taena was murmuring now, as they sat in their secret spot behind the chapel of baby Christ, exhaling a thick haze of something Taena had managed to sneak past Sparrow's watchful eye, catching their breath. There was something delicious about despoiling Cuntella's most precious place in the entire prison. Taena had her limbs loosely curled around Cersei from behind and Cersei had her head rested on Taena's tit. If Cersei didn't know better, she'd say they were an inch of body contact away from cuddling.
A Lannister does not bother with the masses, her father had said, once, or maybe she was remembering wrong, or maybe he'd said just that, only it hadn't been him but the coke wearing his face talking. Whatever the case, Cersei agreed. This—thing, whatever it was, was hovering near a line that did not get crossed.
"Look, Taena—"
"I can teach you, you know," Taena whispered into her skin in the nick of time to prevent the statement without really cutting in, as if she'd known just what Cersei had been about to say.
"Teach me?" Cersei asked, not thinking of a single thing the woman could do better than her.
"Our insults," Taena explained with the most devious grin Cersei had ever seen. "So next time you'll know exactly what they're saying about you. No one should leave jail without a lesson in blasphemous Spanish, yes? Maybe you can even say something back to them. Imagine their faces. I'll help you."
Cersei thought about it. She couldn't see the harm in it. Considering how clingy Taena had been with her these past couple of weeks, it was certainly a step up from the ring Cersei had been half-expecting to find buried in her breakfast one of these days.
"Fine," she shrugged. "I'm a fast learner."
Taena grinned that sinful grin Cersei did not quite associate with any other face anymore. "Oh I know so."
"Well then," Cersei beckoned formally as she sat up, ignoring the woman's quasi-libidinous looks. "Where do we begin?"
Taena took Cersei's hands like they were doing fucking yoga, and sleekly guided them to her breasts. "That's tetas," the woman sang prettily. "Oh, I should tell you I'm a practical teacher," she breathed, sick-sweet like an afterthought. Cersei shook her head in disbelief. Was the whore actually about to use grammar as a means to get her in the sack? "I believe in learning through experiencing."
Cersei felt a diabetes attack incoming just from the amount of sugar dripping in the woman's voice.
"I don't have time for this." She rose to her feet, or started to anyway. Taena snatched her wrist and pulled lightly, legs invitingly spread on the ground under her. "We have checkup," Cersei insisted. Not that she was particularly thrilled to be submitted to Unella's cavity search but as usual presence was not optional. Even the optional tasks were not optional with that dratted mammoth of a woman.
"Come on, C, don't you wanna know what that's called...?" As usual the sight of Taena's cunt stirred nothing in her, but it held another appeal on this occasion. Not that Cersei would ever give her the satisfaction.
"I'll get a fucking dictionary," Cersei grunted.
"And risk for anyone to catch you with it? Imagine their laughter. You're smarter than that, C, so much smarter."
She was smarter than that, of course. Why else would she have suffered through the bitches' cheap shots without ever truly fighting back? But for Taena to know it—for her to know Cersei might need her, that did not sit well with Cersei at all.
"Suppose you'll want me to touch it," Cersei scoffed with an eye roll. Let the woman beg for it, let her make herself sound needy like a bitch in heat. Then and only then would Cersei accept the playing field had been leveled.
"Touch and tell," Taena confirmed with an expression that was a little too self-pleased. "Come on baby, you know I want it, come back here." At the very least the woman had the good sense to release a sweetened please at the end. Cersei was partially appeased.
She sighed, but knelt back down with no further delay. There must be a more time-saving way of dealing with her friend's ever-working lower parts, but so far Cersei only knew the direct one.
"It's called coño," Taena hummed as Cersei kneed those legs that never ended farther apart, not careful.
Cersei snorted. Spanish was so obvious. Same went for her friend. Cersei couldn't rid herself of the feeling she was selling herself too cheaply here. "I could've worked that out by myself."
Taena smirked, and moaned. "Ah, but I couldn't have."
Cersei's eyes went to the wall clock. That better be over quickly, or else they'd both be in trouble for skipping Unella's weekly ass-poking.
"Shut up," Cersei ordered as she slapped a firm tan thigh. It didn't seem to frighten Taena. In fact, Cersei's dominant side always seemed to fan something particularly bent in the woman. It made Cersei angry and not. "No more English," Cersei corrected herself when she remembered the reason this whole thing was happening in the first place. A silent Taena would be only a slut, and that made Cersei a Robert, led by the dick she was born lacking, and that just wouldn't do.
Taena had started fingering herself as if eager to be fucked. Cersei swatted those flagrant hands off the cunt of interest like a pair of pesky flies. This time she decided she'd try something new. "Go on then," she commanded without a trace of anything that might classify as emotion, as she lowered her face to the woman's nether region.
She'd never tasted a cunt before, and this first contact only served to affirm a long-standing case: Cersei didn't think much of vaginas. She had one herself, and she'd spent the better part of her life wanting to switch it for something better.
Taena didn't seem to notice her friend's remoteness. She was putting on a show of loud sighs and excessive encouragement, ensuring that everything Cersei's tongue was doing received praise to rival baby Christ floating above them. Still, when Cersei licked her just right, she could tell. She latched on to that, and just as the Spaniard was beginning to lose herself, she stopped, cruelly, and it wasn't until she heard a deep desirous por favor that she jammed in two fingers and started tasting the woman for real. She tasted like nothing Cersei had tried before, and again Cersei found herself neither hating nor loving it. Again, that cool aloofness, that noncommittal indifference.
Oh, but Taena was loving it for the both of them. It was just that—Cersei's name surrounded by some words Cersei might not remember tomorrow, but she'd certainly know them when she heard them again.
"Yes, oh mierda... Cersei, oh Cersei..."
She knew mierda by now. Indeed, Cersei thought, this at least might prove to be slightly more effective than junior high.
Taena came, kind of sudden, perhaps surprising more than just Cersei. Her whole body shook, maybe not harder but certainly with more honesty than Cersei had ever seen it do. Then the fucking Mississippi broke loose and Cersei remembered why she'd been reluctant to dive her head down there in the first place.
"Ever squirt on my face again and I'll never fuck you," Cersei spat, splashing holy water from the blessed font on her irritated skin.
Taena just giggled and murmured a half-assed sorry even as she twined closer.
A biting déjà vu struck Cersei as she contemplated their situation. She was breathing into dark skin once more. Taena's hand had found its way back into Cersei's hair, too. "This means nothing," Cersei warned, and shoved her.
She swore she saw Taena Merryweather flash her a smile.
Two years, four months later
The Advocate headlines:
No-name Orton Merryweather made CEO of prominent Lannister Corp. partner brand. Recently pardoned Lannister heiress spotted cruising with unnamed female on the day of Tywin Lannister's funeral.