~ Ok, now, I'm thinking that maybe one person, or *scrunches up face into
eternal hope* TWO people were kinda sorta a little tiny eency weency bit
waiting for the next
chapter. So here's this chapter, for you.
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Randy couldn't believe it. She and spot were really getting serious. She had heard all of the many stories that all shouted out the same exact thing in her ears. Spot Conlon never stayed with a girl very long. His longest relationship was like, four days. This just goes to show, if you give great sex to Spot Conlon, he'll keep you around a little longer. The thing was, they were just play toys to him, some yummy treat that he got for working his long days doing what? Sitting around on his butt barking orders. He didn't like having long relationships, they just weren't his thing.
Randy and Spot had been together for three months.
And they had been the best three months of both of their lives. They would talk about how they felt about love, how they felt about politics, how they felt about what they wanted to do with their lives. It didn't matter if they didn't know a lot about those subjects; they would just share what they did know, and neither one made the other feel inferior to the other. And then, sometimes they would just walk down the street, hand in hand, not really knowing where they were going at all, just knowing the warm feeling of each other's fingers intertwined with their own and how that feeling would spread through their veins like a rush of hope or a tingle of a thrill coursing through their bodies.
For Randy, it was the fact that Spot made her feel like no other person had ever made her feel. Around him, looking into those steamy, mossy, blue-gray eyes, she felt loved. She felt as though she could shoot through the smog of Manhattan, up into the skies where she could dance with wings of love.
That's another thing, around Spot, she often got, well. . . . . . mushy. Yes, mushy. An ooey gooey, lovey dovey, batting eyelashes sort of mushy. I mean frankly, she was disgusted with herself. But on another level, she just couldn't help it. And neither could Spot.
One day he found himself wheedling away hours of the day trying his hardest to write a love poem. He would have called in one of his boys to do it for him, but there was that whole never being able to live it down thing.
So, to sum it all up, they were in love. And not just the kind of fleeting love you get when you see someone and you think, wow, I love him. It was the kind of love that by looking into each other's eyes, they could look into each other's souls. They could see the hopes, dreams, worries, and awaiting smiles that would blossom into a full burst of happiness when they finally saw the curves and creases of one another's face.
One poker night all that was thrown out into obscurity.
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"Look, Randy, I need enough money to still sell my papers tomorrow. Can't you just, let me win?" Race said, half joking, half pleading.
"Sorry fella's, but it looks like I win again." Randy smirked, pulling the pile of winnings into her bag.
Spot smiled to himself, he was really going to have to do something about this. I mean, it was pretty humiliating to be beaten by yous goil at poker. But at the same time, Randy wasn't like his other girls. She was so much more independent. She was her own person, and she didn't let anyone push her around.
"Let's sit out of poker for a while. Let go around the circle and tell one thing about us that almost nobody knows." said Mush. He was holding his new girl on his lap that he had picked up just that day and he was getting desperate. Continuous losing isn't exactly impressive.
The other boys snickered, but Spot noticed the intrigued look on Randy's face and said, "I like dat idea Mush, lets do it. Mush, since yous came up wit dis brilliant idea, yous start."
Randy beamed at him. He was so perceptive of her sometimes that it was scary. But it was the kind of scary that sent chills up your spine and made you grin.
The other boys immediately stopped laughing and snapped to attention. If Spot Conlon was going to play, then so were they. Mush coughed softly. He hadn't expected for this idea to work, and he certainly hadn't expected he would have to go first. He racked his brain for an idea and then suddenly a non embarrassing one came to mind.
He grinned. "I was da one who stole Spec's underwear and hung it outta da window a few weeks back." The other boys erupted in laughter while Dutchy guffawed and said, "See, I toldja it wasn't me!" Spec's eyes widened and he reached over and smacked Mush hard upside the head. "Ow!" yelled Mush, but still kept on laughing.
Once they had all quieted down they moved on to Randy, who was next in the circle.
Spot was a little worried. I mean, what if she told them he was a bad kisser or something. Or she shared her first kiss, now that would be excruciating pain for him. But he heaved a sigh of relief when Randy cleared her throat and said with a dignified air and a hint of pride in her voice, "I don't drink, smoke, and I don't plan to have sex until I'm married."
The other boys didn't laugh, they were more shocked. They hadn't really noticed when they went out that Randy hadn't had a beer with them, or when she had politely refused one of Race's cigars. Now, they just had more respect for her than ever. It was just one more thing that made her so unbelievingly special.
Then, through the purely respectful silence came a dirty, high pitched, ditzy giggle. They all turned their heads toward Mush, where on his lap Missy, his girl, was laughing loudly and slapping her knee.
Spot's eyes narrowed. "Is something the matter, Missy?"
She giggled and tried to calm herself down. "No, it's just," she giggled, "She's such a goody girl! I mean, maybe da reason she don't drink or smoke is cuz she's to dawn afwaid! And maybe she don't have sex wid boys cuz she don't like boys. She smooches wid goils! Maybe dats-"
"THAT'S NOT TRUE!!!" screamed Randy, shooting up from her seat and glaring daggers that were mixed with a look of pain at Missy. "Don't you think I've lost people that I thought cared about me because I wouldn't get drunk with them, or-or please them!?!? Maybe I don't smoke, or drink, or have sex because I don't feel like being labeled a low life! Maybe, just maybe, I don't FEEL like being a slut, a piece of trash, a-a WHORE!" Then she ran outside leaving the room deathly quiet.
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I REALLY hope you liked that chapter! PLEASE REVIEW! Oh, and if you want to, you can read my new story, "Brooklyn's key." Erin sailor ditz loved it so far, and I hope you will too! Love you all soooo much!!!
Randy
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Randy couldn't believe it. She and spot were really getting serious. She had heard all of the many stories that all shouted out the same exact thing in her ears. Spot Conlon never stayed with a girl very long. His longest relationship was like, four days. This just goes to show, if you give great sex to Spot Conlon, he'll keep you around a little longer. The thing was, they were just play toys to him, some yummy treat that he got for working his long days doing what? Sitting around on his butt barking orders. He didn't like having long relationships, they just weren't his thing.
Randy and Spot had been together for three months.
And they had been the best three months of both of their lives. They would talk about how they felt about love, how they felt about politics, how they felt about what they wanted to do with their lives. It didn't matter if they didn't know a lot about those subjects; they would just share what they did know, and neither one made the other feel inferior to the other. And then, sometimes they would just walk down the street, hand in hand, not really knowing where they were going at all, just knowing the warm feeling of each other's fingers intertwined with their own and how that feeling would spread through their veins like a rush of hope or a tingle of a thrill coursing through their bodies.
For Randy, it was the fact that Spot made her feel like no other person had ever made her feel. Around him, looking into those steamy, mossy, blue-gray eyes, she felt loved. She felt as though she could shoot through the smog of Manhattan, up into the skies where she could dance with wings of love.
That's another thing, around Spot, she often got, well. . . . . . mushy. Yes, mushy. An ooey gooey, lovey dovey, batting eyelashes sort of mushy. I mean frankly, she was disgusted with herself. But on another level, she just couldn't help it. And neither could Spot.
One day he found himself wheedling away hours of the day trying his hardest to write a love poem. He would have called in one of his boys to do it for him, but there was that whole never being able to live it down thing.
So, to sum it all up, they were in love. And not just the kind of fleeting love you get when you see someone and you think, wow, I love him. It was the kind of love that by looking into each other's eyes, they could look into each other's souls. They could see the hopes, dreams, worries, and awaiting smiles that would blossom into a full burst of happiness when they finally saw the curves and creases of one another's face.
One poker night all that was thrown out into obscurity.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Look, Randy, I need enough money to still sell my papers tomorrow. Can't you just, let me win?" Race said, half joking, half pleading.
"Sorry fella's, but it looks like I win again." Randy smirked, pulling the pile of winnings into her bag.
Spot smiled to himself, he was really going to have to do something about this. I mean, it was pretty humiliating to be beaten by yous goil at poker. But at the same time, Randy wasn't like his other girls. She was so much more independent. She was her own person, and she didn't let anyone push her around.
"Let's sit out of poker for a while. Let go around the circle and tell one thing about us that almost nobody knows." said Mush. He was holding his new girl on his lap that he had picked up just that day and he was getting desperate. Continuous losing isn't exactly impressive.
The other boys snickered, but Spot noticed the intrigued look on Randy's face and said, "I like dat idea Mush, lets do it. Mush, since yous came up wit dis brilliant idea, yous start."
Randy beamed at him. He was so perceptive of her sometimes that it was scary. But it was the kind of scary that sent chills up your spine and made you grin.
The other boys immediately stopped laughing and snapped to attention. If Spot Conlon was going to play, then so were they. Mush coughed softly. He hadn't expected for this idea to work, and he certainly hadn't expected he would have to go first. He racked his brain for an idea and then suddenly a non embarrassing one came to mind.
He grinned. "I was da one who stole Spec's underwear and hung it outta da window a few weeks back." The other boys erupted in laughter while Dutchy guffawed and said, "See, I toldja it wasn't me!" Spec's eyes widened and he reached over and smacked Mush hard upside the head. "Ow!" yelled Mush, but still kept on laughing.
Once they had all quieted down they moved on to Randy, who was next in the circle.
Spot was a little worried. I mean, what if she told them he was a bad kisser or something. Or she shared her first kiss, now that would be excruciating pain for him. But he heaved a sigh of relief when Randy cleared her throat and said with a dignified air and a hint of pride in her voice, "I don't drink, smoke, and I don't plan to have sex until I'm married."
The other boys didn't laugh, they were more shocked. They hadn't really noticed when they went out that Randy hadn't had a beer with them, or when she had politely refused one of Race's cigars. Now, they just had more respect for her than ever. It was just one more thing that made her so unbelievingly special.
Then, through the purely respectful silence came a dirty, high pitched, ditzy giggle. They all turned their heads toward Mush, where on his lap Missy, his girl, was laughing loudly and slapping her knee.
Spot's eyes narrowed. "Is something the matter, Missy?"
She giggled and tried to calm herself down. "No, it's just," she giggled, "She's such a goody girl! I mean, maybe da reason she don't drink or smoke is cuz she's to dawn afwaid! And maybe she don't have sex wid boys cuz she don't like boys. She smooches wid goils! Maybe dats-"
"THAT'S NOT TRUE!!!" screamed Randy, shooting up from her seat and glaring daggers that were mixed with a look of pain at Missy. "Don't you think I've lost people that I thought cared about me because I wouldn't get drunk with them, or-or please them!?!? Maybe I don't smoke, or drink, or have sex because I don't feel like being labeled a low life! Maybe, just maybe, I don't FEEL like being a slut, a piece of trash, a-a WHORE!" Then she ran outside leaving the room deathly quiet.
************************************
I REALLY hope you liked that chapter! PLEASE REVIEW! Oh, and if you want to, you can read my new story, "Brooklyn's key." Erin sailor ditz loved it so far, and I hope you will too! Love you all soooo much!!!
Randy