Wednesday, October 15, 2014
#UgBloggers7Days Blog Post Numero Quatre: On Sex and the City...
I met (let's call him Jake)a couple of months back and we'd been doing the should we, shouldn't we dance for awhile. You know, you like a guy but it's still very murky waters in terms of where this "thing" is so your hot for him and you'd let him do anything and everything except it. "It" is for people who you're dating. Exclusively.
So I go out with Jake, New Years night. See, so undefined! I don't even know whether it's a date or not. He just says, "hey come lets hang" and there I go. Short skirt, red lipstick and that delicious strawberry mist he loves. Tottering on heels that'll break my legs if I miss a
But I really like Jake and it's New Years. We kiss at midnight. Ring in 2014. We drive around, house party one is a bust. We leave. Club Amoeba. His friends are here. We have a little competition at the entrance; who has the best Fred Astaire jump. I win. The one wearing heels. One drink and we're gone. House party two, how come there so many house parties on new years? More drinks, we dance. We dance alot. Intoxicated. High off each other,liquid happiness and prospects of a new year,a clean slate.Hopes of prosperity. It's a good high. Everyone's leaving now.
Jake goes to the car. Lights a J, calls me. I'm still dancing. Gosh,I love dancing. I go to the car. All the windows up, he's hotboxed the car. I get in. A waft of the good herb hits me. He passes the J over and starts the car. He thinks its good night to show me the hand brake turn. See this is when you deliberately turn sharply reversing the direction of a vehicle by speedily applying the handbrake while turning the steering wheel. I think to myself, we are
going to die. But I don't care. Live fast , die young right. That's the thing about Jake, my demons are friends with his. They dance and call this chaos we create home. I really should not like Jake. But I do.
Jake is driving to his apartment, windows up and we're singing(more like shouting) along to Power Trip-J.Cole and suddenly the car is spinning and I'm screaming on top of my voice,this feels like an orgasm. He spins the car again, I throw my hands in the air cause I see it coming this time and it feels like floating . I turn to look at him and he's looking at me, smiling, awed. We just died.
We get to his apartment. He turns on his big TV and sits, smoking a cigarette. Time to serenade the king.
Disclaimer: This is fiction. New style of writing meant for a commercial project I'm working on. Yay/Nay?! Let me know in the comments.