"by henry fielding, author of Daisy Duck Meets Huey Louie and Whoee with PAPERINIK"
[1st draft. 20140207 about 4:20 ipdt. how fortuitous. too bad im outa weed. bummer. will probably read stoned, some other time. got some good tobacco. it got a bad rep just like weed did. but the natives that smoked it understood it was good. thoug to each their own, metabolism is individual and it changes. whatever. know thyself and all. id like to thank the tarot for being the tarot. EDITs 08:47 ipdt]
vIXEN CANDie 22 stepped out of the passenger side of the zelda car. she stepped out in her full, vixen woman glory. her towering height was impressive. actually she was "only" about 5'8" or so, but her sexy attitude spoke miles. plus, her high heels didn't exactly make her seem shorter. she had a vixen, almost evil smile, long, full, wavy hair, brownish yet luminous-with reddish and bright blonde streaks, well...
they went well with her partly gold shoes, though they also featured leather and some other materials, probably not rene' caovilla stilettos, but probably not unlikely to cost 3 grand on rodeo drive, or san diego street, aka via condotti in old-rome/new-san-diego3, where olly had a tab (and at via borgognona) on took.
she -- vixen candie 22, for short -- had pretty angular features in her otherwise smoothly rounded, slightly thin face, made-up just a touch below "whore" style, but with a nuance towards not-quite, touch too lazy for the "whore" attitude, touch more sophisticated in the application. as if her bracelets and arm/wrist jewelry were not elegant enough, between her fingers she sultrily held one of those watchamacallems that in old movies, sexy vixens used to smoke their cigarettes in/with, where, you know, it's like gold or something metal shiny, holds the cigarette, so it looks like her cigarette is, like, 7 inches long. in the comics there's always a thin line of smoke drawn snake like from the tip of the cig upwards. and she WAS smoking it.
she had, again, an almost evil smile, but not really evil, just the classic "hmmmmmm, who would i like to seduce tonight? ... the usual."
she had a miniskirt, not exactly from the dollar savings store, with perfect stitches and it must have been a luminous white denim with a brown hue or light brown denim with a white hue, it kinda shined and was opaque at the same time. with small pockets, too, rounded creases showing both her tight bod AND at the same time her relative comfort of movement. of course, before you could see her miniskirt well, your eyes would have gone from her high heels up, so they would have crossed her pretty tight-though-not-too-skinny almost muscular but simply healthy and strong long legs, not that long, really, but again her attitude and ensamble made those legs come across as longer than you could measure them, and apparent unusual panthyhose until you realized it was a nextgen wide-band (like quarter-inch) semi-lace almost-large-gap fishnets OVER her pantyhose. she moved slowly. always sly-like, seeming tall whether her head was down OR straight up. most of the folks that turned to see her right now barely noticed the top she was wearing except that it too was quite the hip-yet-pricey-classy ensemble, with sort of barely a hint of half-or-quarter-inch white frill framing the V shape around the cleavage of her relatively modest-size but solidly shaped breasts.
she had another rodeo-drive type handbag, classy, big enough to hold shit but light enough that as it humg from her left arm she could easily, almost effortlessly, smoke the cigarette she held in her watchamacall it.
as all eyes gazed upon her, the driver's door of the zelda car opened on the other side, and gaia rolax stepped out.
"hello everyone," the internet-choice current woman leader of earth said, as she closed the driver's door. she was calm and had a gentle smile. she walked around the zelda car and in front of vIXEN CANDie 22, and they both walked towards the 4 that had just gotten out of took's camaro, as they said, "whatup, gaia!"
everybody kinda shook hands or what not, and gaia went straight to business.
"public," she said.
"3... 2.. 1... live on public," said the NSA voice from the speakers, audible from both cars. (they were now streamed live on youtube for anyone that was interested.)
"olly, why the fuck couldn't you be here in person, bitch?" gaia said.
olly's boisterous fun voice came loud and clear through the speakers. "im partyin/studyin in london, CUNT!" everyone laughed, including olly.
"anyway," gaia continued as she leaned, arms crossed, her butt on the side of the camaro, "apparently most of the american military want you to be chief."
no one said anything, or stirred, or whatever, really.
gaia continued. "there's still some that have the same issues that they've expressed to you, you know. you're a bleedin' heart, you're too nice, whatever ... but it's looking like it's goin towards you."
"as per polls," olly said like a-la-lah style.
"so... " gaia stayed there, leaning on the car. the others either leaned or their car, or just stood around, again, like, whatever. which they thought was probably what olly was going to say.
"so which way you leanin' gurl?" advanced gaia rolax. with her words, that is.
"uhmmmm ..." olly murmured. " ... whatever."
a few seconds went by, then olly said "im still thinkin about it. but, man, HEARTFELT THANKS to the guys and gals and TGz of the armed forces for protectin our freedom, you know!" she said it with her full heart. olly straight up.
"anyway," gaia pushed herself off the leaning on the side of the camaro, then she let her arms down off her crossed position, "and turned and directed her voice to the sky, though obviously it was the mics around that were picking it up, "they know you like to party, and there's no hurry. but, still, you know, the people wanna know."
"they can wait," vanessa saod, with no disrespect at all, just lookin out for her best friend, and aware that life is real. hers, olly's everyone.
"peace!" olly's voice rang through the speakers.
"yeah, but we're still in modelland 4 phase, hon. alas, some people dont't quite get that."
"i know," replied olly's voice with a sigh.
"how're we coming along with camera guns, camera gun scopes, PAINT-A-BALL alternatives, etc?" olly asked.
"making progress. but some people still like bombs and bullets," said gaia with some sadness.
"god-given right," said took, "but god fuckin damn it ..." -- he was about to get angry. they turned, he calmed down. vanessa continued for him. "just-keep-it-to-the-mutual-consents. T-H-A-N-K Y-O-U." took let out a breath that was a mix of relieved and annoyed, and leaned on the camaro.
"anyway ..." gaia put a hand in her pocket, just to hang it there. "can you at least tell us what you suggest about the free new territory? did you work that part out yet?"
"well it seems to me" olly spoke straight and fast "that if all the mexicans south of the border wanna come into the fuckin US let's just build their free territory just south of the border, whether the rosarita or nogales side, HUGE american military perimeter protectin them, you bring armies -- scuse me, i mean, that too -- but i meant INSIDE the territory PROTECTED by the US -- scuse fuckin me -- i mean the FUCKIN AMERICAN MILITARY, you fuckin bring ARBY'S, CARL'S JR, JACK-IN-THE-BOX, build a fuckin giant mall, maKe the fuckin streets as big as american streets, keep it fuckin clean, give the poor bitches free american tv --"
"olly you know the tv deals are still so fuckin--" gaia tried to interrupt but olly went on: "I KNOW I KNOW IKNOW I KNOW I F-U-C-K-I-N KNOWWWWW! gosh frakin darn it!" (she was pissed now. but then she took a second and calmed down enough) "anyway they can pirate the tv shows, but whatever, JUST bring american business, make a fuckin copy of america, just fuckin south of the fuckin border! god fuckin damn it. we can all watch them on youtube. instead of fuckin waitin for their fuckin green card INSIDE america for a few years, we fuckin see how the experiment goes, and then if --I SAY SINCE -- the experiment WILL GO WELL, either they can come into america or that fuckin piece of land BECOMES america. i mean, im like DUHH!!!! GAWD I CANT FUCKIN WAIT FOR MODELLAND 5! what am i sayin? I CAN'T FUCKIN WAIT FOR MODELLAND 22! like vIXEN CANDie 22, you know? TWENTY-TWO, HELLOOOOOOOOOO?" took laughed a bit. vixen candie 22 smiled and it had no touch of vixen or evil. just pure happy.
"i mean -- " olly was about to continue. gaia was about to say something, but then she didn't. and olly went on. the lcd displays inside the cars were super-active with data from on-the-fly reactions to the public broadcast of the scene, but flurried as the activity was it was still at best number 5 on the ratings, and THAT was a peak. wheel of fortune featured a bob barker special, and even took, though he never really watched the show, was curious. it was edging out america's next crossover cycle 5 (HELLO TYRA) (the auditions), though american idol was sure to peak big time when justin bieber and p dd were going to do a reunion with Atlantean. whether or not olly was also watching the tickers with the shit or the live info she just continued: "i mean, GAAAAWWWWWDDDDD. how fuckin long a transition do we need? GAAAAAWWWWWDDD!!"
but it was at this point that she remembered how PAINED took had been for years, and how they both, and vanessa, had had to be patient, and how back in the day he had explained to the ladies that certain things must happen, for the good of us all, before we go viral. that there was a reason he had taken all that abuse and not published any public-appeasing shit in YEARS until he had found her and vanessa, and that for their own good, it was still shhh time.
so she took a deep sigh. took felt for her, stood up from his lean, and said, "honey, things are WAY better than you might think, MAYBE. i could be wrong, but --" by this time olly had so gotten over her misunderstandings about the tarot that she was a leader in explaining to people that, NO, DUDE, WE MAKE OUR OWN DESTINY. FUCKIN TAROT IS JUST ONE OF MANY WAYS TO FUCKIN AX URSELF WHAT UD LIKE BEST. its like talkin to yourself. but with nice pictures. anyway, as if reading their minds, vanessa cut in: "olly, im startin to REALLLY LIKE MY CARDS. my FAVE KARDS."
"all right." olly said with relief. "HURRY UP, SUPER KUNT!" she ordered to vanessa, as they both laughed. but olly was serious. like, lets get with the fuckin program, like YESTERDAY.
"anything else?" gaia asked.
peter said "steak and eggs!" everyone laughed. "PANCAKES!" pete's back-seat friend yelled.
"question time?" the NSA voice asked.
"sure," olly and gaia said simultaneously.
"jayn from alabama wants to know when the nizzoli action figures will be available."
"gen 3?" said olly, with excitement. "WHEN????" she wanted to know too. probably more than the political shit. kinda.
"ask todd mcfarlane," gaia answered.
"we have a live question form hamid," the NSA announced.
"yo whatup, peter said."
"i dont got a question, just wanted to say hi."
"sorry about that, hamid. thats what we meant. thanks for the shout out," said the NSA.
"now we DO have a question, and it IS live, from rosarita, mexico. the lady 's name is coincidentally, rosa. hello rosa."
"hi!" said rosa with a girly mexican accent. she was actually in her early 20s but not only her beautiful accent came across even with that one syllable's intonation, music almost, but she sounded so like a little girl. everyone seemed to smile even though none of them had ever heard of her before.
"hiiiii," she continued as if smiling through the ether. "hi everyone, i am rosa, from rosarita -- ha ha, that's funny, i know -- and i have a question for you, and -- oh, i'm sorry, first of all i want to thank you all for what you're doing, i think it's ggggrrrrrreeeeeaaaaaaaatttt ..."
"thank YOU rosa!" many of them said as they were standing around or leanin on the camaro, though some of them might have accidentaly said "thank you rosarita" by mistake. (see chapter 2 note abut redundancy, bitchz.)
"yes, hiiiiii," rosa continued cheerfully. "anyway, my question is: due to the ions in the air in san diego, and i mean the original san diego, the one in southern california, i mean, you know what i mean, no disrespect to the earlier san diegos -- AT ALL -- i mean, you know what i mean. due to the ions in the air in san diego, just north of us, and the vibrations that some have claimed exist some 40-80 miles west-by-southwest of nogales, don't you think that it might increase sustainability by at least 8 to 12% if the new free territory that olly proposes is placed in an area slightly different from where she suggests, as, for example, in the areas that different people are proposing as ideal candidate locations via websites such as "sustainable-up.com" and aligned-the-facebook-nextgen, 3098jet, and the plethora of other sources that are providing such clear information about the regions? thank you!"
"if i may," peter's "back-seat-friend said, "i've seen the sites that you refer to, pun intended, and there are actually INCREDIBLY INFINITELY many sites that would be arguably ideal, as you know better than i, rosa. but the f-fact i-is th-that ... th-the neg-negli-negligence f-factor of of of the interpersonal re-re scuse me re re-lated to ma-ma materials sus-s-suchas such as such as s- stone, m- mi- mght might arguably be such a catalyst in the quantic arena that , i mean, you know you-you-you ... you know what i mean. THANK YOU!!"
"yes, THANK YOU!" yelled rosa. "and by the way, i watched the feed of the race on pay-per-view but i did not see it from the beginning because, well anyway, and i thought it was so funny when you said PANCAKES!"
"THANK YOU ROSA!" pete's friend continued, "which reminds me..."
"thank you rosa," added the NSA, "you can all post to rosa's page 3 by clicking tapping touching or inputting on the rosa diplay on your device of choice. and now for the buster comments"
"you guys are a bunch of retards! you suck your mother's ass and,"
"sorry," interrupted the NSA voice. "now for the buster's coment."
"yes, thank you," said a new voice on the speakers. "this ties in well with rosarita's comment, because the fact of the fuckin matter is that so long as you leave things to the majority, when it comes to places like alaska, northeast china, and olsenia 3, not only are you actually doin more fuckin harm than good to the environment, BUT, imfHUMBLEopinion there are companies that are MUCH MUCH, like, WAY much more qualified than todd macfarlane toys to make those action figures."
"if i may," took got up again.
"actually, if we may stop you, took," the NSA continued, "we're runnin a bit short on time and bieber and pdd ARE getting ready to hit the stage fairly soon."
"by all means, thank YOU," took said as he leaned back on the car.
"thank you buster," the NSA continued, "the audience can click on buster 23 on their screen. and finally, and sorry about the glitch, number 5, please go ahead."
"yes, thank you, all good," the earlier voice came on, and continued where they left off: "you guys are a bunch of retards! you suck your mother's ass and..."
"now i gorfot, i mean i forgot, what was i gonnna say?" the voice asked itself.
"sorry about that. it's our fault, before.," the NSA said.
"yeah," number 5's voice continued. "no worries, dude, you, like, put the S in service. national SERVICE agency, you know. you guys rock."
"thank you, much obliged. proud to serve," the NSA replied.
"YOU GUYS, and i ain't talkin to the NSA, maybe not even gaia rolex or whatever, but assholes, standing around the cars," number 5 continued, "you are just a goddam fuckin fag pasty marshmallow GAY nigger and white jew mayonnaise of a shittin electrician's goose duck. and i MEAN GOOSE, LIKE FIRGGIN FRIGGIN cerberus!!!!! . YEAH YOU ASSFUCKS ARE NOTHING BUT A BUNCH OF CEREBUS. you and your celery! eat your food, and DIE!"
"thank you." number 5's voice concluded.
"any time," the NSA said. "and now we cut to commercial. click pay-per-view and invited to continue viewing the streaming. for pay-per.view commercials click your selctions. food commercials on 1, music commercials on 2, products and other services on 3. this concludes the public stream. good night, good always."
some of the racetrack lights dimmed, making the services ETC area on this side of the track feel more cozy.
vanessa, took, and company stretched as if they'd just finished watching a movie.
"so, olly," vanessa said.
"yeah?" olly replied.
"whatcha gonna do now?"
"oh, party, study. what about you. back to the race?"
"i don't know," answered vanessa, turning as if to as gaia.
"i'm game." gaia took her hand out of her pocket.
"honey," peter said, "i don't know..."
vanessa thought about it for a few moments.
"vroom vroom some other time?" gaia asked, smiling. "after all, most o' ya all have a regualr circadian cycle. not everyone's a sicko like took, with his non-24 sleep disability. just got up, what, a little before you guys hit the road?"
"yeah, more or less," took replied.
"vroom vroom next time," vanessa said.
gaia and took said their goodbyes to the crew, handshakes and hugs and all. "which way you goin?" gaia asked took. then she stopped herself and laughed. "whichever the wnd blows towards modelland?" she laughed he chuckled. "yeah," he said. gaia got into the zelda car, took got into the camaro. as they pulled out of the services ETC area, gaia followed the arrow that said "racetrack" only to screech her non-tyra tires halfway across the track to another exit on the opposite side, took and his 5th-gen black V8 went the othr way.
after a few moments, vIXEN CANDie 22, stood straight with her stretched legs apart almost like a roughneck, though amazingly she retained her old-movies style, sharp, stylish, sophisticated, dangerous-attraction lady like stance. her breasts seemed more plump AND firm as she was now facing straight across like 4 feet away from vanessa, peter, and his stuttering friend, as they looked at her, as they looked at vIXEN CANDie 22.
she had her arms crossed, as her handbag hung from her left arm. she slowly took out another cigarette, a slightly almost sinister smile escaped from her again, she inserted the cigarette, with pelican-leg-like fingers in the gold or gold-like watchamacallit, and lit herself.
"soooo..." she said. "she tilted her chin way up, so much so that all their eyes focused on her, what, maybe mid-30's woman's neck -- though she could have passed for an aged 27-year old or an amazing 45-year old. she slowly let out a string of smoke towards the sky. in the silence they could all hear the sound of the air pushed out of her mouth as she let and forwarded the smoke out. her lips, curled for the smoke, looked, even from that angle, where you could only see the bottom of the bottom lip, luscious. hate to use such a predictable word. but it's the right one. coz her lips, when not curling to sort of whistle the smoke out her mouth, more than luscious would be best described as sexy, very sexy. very VERY sexy. and, again, her perfect application of just the right amount of make up was awesome, impeccable, perfect. but when her chin was tilted so way up like that, and all you could see was the botom of the bottom of her lip as she rounded the shape to let that one smoke snake out, that's when it looked luscious, otherwise they were thinner than what most people would consider "luscious" as far as lips. but richer in size and roundness and texture than lips that most people would call "thin lips." come to think of it, those lips where kinda P-E-R-F-E-C-T. took doesn't even like lips, and HE was turned on by her lips, whenever he saw her, or thought about them. you would need a thesaurus to photo those lips.
she lowered her head after that "puff." gave a down-and-true deadly attraction look STRAIGHT to peter, and walked slowly straight to him.
"peter," she said slowly as she took 3, semi-slow, have-decided steps before stopping inches from him. face to face. her nose maybe 5 inches from his forehead, as they looked in each other's face.
"peter..." she continued, making her voice 100% no-doubt-about-it- sexy provocative. she continued very slowly. but clearly. "are you wearing pantyhose under those jeans?"
now peter was a very, very, very good looking guy. so good looking. he had it all. granted, he was a little shorter than vixen candie 22, but he was not only abso-fuckin-lutely good looking, but he had the swag, the talk, everything. his eyes, his voice, his movements, his words placed just at the right time. his sway, his stance. his eyebrows. his cheekbones. he had it ALL. most importantly, he was a solid guy. kinda person that's real. talks the talk, walks the walk. his mind, words and thoughts were of a radically different style than olly, vanessa, or took. especially vanessa and took. but he was every woman's dream. whether you saw him for a few moments -- after all he tended to appear and disappear and reappear in an "im here" reassuring way -- even those that didn't know him, girls and women looked at him, felt his vibe, looked at him move or stay, and said to themselves, "damn, wish he and vanessa weren't so in love with each other."
"of course," peter said, replying to vIXEN's question about the pantyhose.
"let me see," vIXEN CANDie 22 said, as she switched hands, slowly, with her cigarette thing.
[NSA disclaimer: if you are currently in a jurisdiction where descriptions of sexual scenes are restricted because of age, religion, or other authorities, you are not authorized to scroll to read below. therefore, if prohibited from (or otherwise uncomfortable with) reading descriptions of sexual scenes, to skip to the rest of the chapter past the sexual scene below, please cLICK this link: i am not authorized / unwilling to be exposed to descriptive scenes that may be of a sexual nature. thank you. we're working on freedom. we apologize for the inconvenience.]
she raised her right shoulder for a better grip. ran her fingers slowly down his shirt. feeling the gentle rounded creases.
"hmmmm...." they both murmured.
when her fingers reached the waist of his jeans, again, pelican-legs-like, long, dark dark red but shiny nails SUBLIMELY done, she moved them like a slow praying mantis, pushing caressing, and provoking between the waist of his jeans, to the left of his center, and the folds of his tucked shirt.
she then GRABBED that part of the waist of his jeans with those four special, special fingers, now with-decision clutched inside his jeans' waistband, latitudinally between his left hipbone area and his belly button, as her thumb closed her fist on her jeans's waist with OWNERSHIP. with now-ownership.
with that hand frimly clenched on his jeans thus, she pulled him a little closer. their upper bodies now almost pressed as she stood straight and he was pulled into her by her pretty damn strong arm and handgrip. she went "hmmmmm...." and with the self-pleasure of a cat but the hardness of an eagle, she pressed, contoured, caressed, explored and rubbed the sides, jaw, cheekbones, undercheekbones, nose, wedge between lip and chin, and especially all the perimeter UNDER his jaw, both sides and front, with her hard chin.
then, smiling, gratified, NOT letting go of her right-hand fist grip that controlled the top of his jeans, her left hand arm straight and relaxed down along her left side, the cigarette thingo, cigarette still lit, between her index and middle fingers, ring and pinky extended, sporting not-cheap jewelry, her bag somehow comfortably hanging from her bent right arm, she lowered her chin and eyes again, devilishly looking straight in his eyes again, and again said,
rocking just a little in her solid stance, and making him weave a little more than her, with her fist and the power of her arm, she slowly pulled him by his jeans to and fro in a circle like small motion, as if to make sure she had him by the pants. pulled him closer. then pushed to give herself a just tad more room for her sexy hand to operate, and in a powerful continuum of movements so that her hand could do what she wanted freely while still controlling his jeans, she began to artfully pull the tucked section of his shirt where her hand was, up, up, down, up, finally off that section... until that area of shirt between his left hipbone and belly button was finally forced out of its tuck.
now she made a fist again with the right hand that was holding his jeans, and with that area of his shirt untucked, the top knuckles of her fist could feel the fabric of his pantyhose.
she rocked him ever so slightly back and forth.
though her fist holding onto the jeans was tight, very, very tight, she began to slowly push some of those fingers open ever-so-slightly, alternating fingers so that at the same time that she continued to hold a grip with her thumb and at least one tightly clutched finger, as tightly as possible, she stretched some of the other fingers into the top of his pantyhose, which reached inches above his waist, and she began to first feel truly it, then slowly rub it, first with her mid-knuckles and top sides of her fingers ... then with her nails ... and finally with her finger tips, her sexy fingertips stroking the microscopically abrasive yet erotically complying texture of the pantyhose.
"black?" she asked about the pantyhose color, her chin down, her eyes up at his eyes.
"off-black," he replied.
"20 den?" she asked, a bit puzzled by the somewhat unusual texture and resistence of the pantyhose, but intrigued, and as if steamed. and aways with a very, very provocative voice.
"it's a special thirty-THREE-den." he said.
"ooooooooooooooh" her knees gave a bit, they bent some, as if her body were suddenly like a locomotive letting out steam.
"hhhrrrggggmmmmm" she almost growled.
she dropped the cigarette, the thingo making a cling cling sound as it bounced rolled and settled on the asphalt. the red ambers of the cigarette still lit for a few seconds, though nowhere anywhere near anything flammable, other than humans, of course.
"oooohhhmmmmmmhhhhhrrgrghhmmhhhurrrrr" she sort of emitted again. she now grabbed his jeans' waist also with her left fist, symmetrical to the way she had grabbed his jeans' waist with her right, but now with her right she pulled that side of his shirt way up and out with deliverance, got the tips of her fingernails right at at the panthyhos,e without scratching it -- her nails as sharp as they were smooth -- stroked her finger tips against the panthyhose on his lower left side abdomen, reached up, grabbed the pantyhose's waistband and pulled it up, hard. pulled thepantyhose hard up with her right hand grab. hard up. stretched it up as he was wearing it, pulled that pantyhose up so much so that its central inseam yanked and tightened and locked the division between his balls. she let go of her left hand grip on the jeans as she pulled his body into her -- much as she could pull someone by their pantyhose wasitband -- quckly circled her left hand back around him, pushed him into her stomach more and with the palm of her left hand and her left forearm, then grabbed at his shirt tucked in the back, pulled it out of the tuck with three determined pulls, and as she rocked the two of them as they were standing while keeping him coiled to her body as if with the power of a large boa constrictor around a small prey, she forcefully pressed her left hand in the small of his back between the jeans and his pantyhose, rubbed his lower back forcefully with the palm of her hand so she could feel his every part of the pantyhose structure between his back muscles and very part of her hand that could press against it even as the hand stroked it, grinded her teeth. looked at his eyes with vengeance, while controlling him in her power hold.
"i want you to fuck my cousin."
"uh-huh..." calmly replied peter.
they'd gone through this roleplay before. in actual reality, he wouldn't have sex with her cousin if his own mother's life depended on it. well, i mean, he'd beg god for alternitives. that's how he felt about her cousin.
"fuck my mother."
she made sure he could not escape (as if...), by reaffirming her hold with her left hand against his lower back, down between his jeans and his 33-denned body, and with his back "trapped," she pulled her right hand which has still pressed in his front against the area above his left groin, pulled that hand out of his jeans, and grabbed his balls from outside his jeans, pulling back her own head a bit, again staring straight at his eyes as if ready to kill an enemy.
she then moved that same hand up, then, palm towards him, slid it down into his jeans again, and after her downward palmstroke in that tight space that almost wrinkled the pantyhose, she grabbed his balls again, this time feeling them and his pressed erect member in her palm through the 33-den.
"pancakes," pete's friend said.
"hmmm..." peter pondered.
"whatcha wanna do?" pete asked his love, vanessa.
vIXEN CANDie 22 was in her perfectly frozen pose for a few seconds. then she went "hhmmmgrrrrhhh" and nibbled with her lips as if her lips were teeth, her teeth barely pressing, really, into pete's right shoulder line.
"i'm actually thinking i might fall asleep after a good read," vanessa answered peter' question.
"you want company?" peter friend's asked her.
"sure," vanessa said. "though i do wanna read some good read."
"that's why i asked," peter's friend said.
"whatcha gonna read?" vIXEN CANDie 22 let go (mostly) of peter and turned towards the other 2, eyes wide open with excitement.
"either Joseph Andrews or Tales From Non-Fiction 5 -- probably," vanessa said as her mind was obviously considering other choices too, but she seemed to know what she was in the mood for.
"Joseph Andrews is F-U-C-K-I-N-G B-R-I-L-L-I-A-NT. have you read it before?" vixen candie 22 asked with even less interest for peter now, and more thril at the literature thing.
"bits and pieces," vanessa said. "i can't figure out if i wanna keep reading it like that or, like you know, linear."
"a-a-and th-th-then L-L-Linear backwards, forwards, spiral-like, and old school or starting from chapter 9?" pete's friend.
"i'm not sure, that's the point," vanessa replied raising her shoulders like when she was supposed to decide clockwise or counterclockwise back at the start of the race. btw it was she who had said "light up point 3" (or something like that).
vIXEN CANDie 22 let go of peter entirely now, and she was facing vanessa like vanessa was the light of life itself. "what about TFNF 5. kindle or html? or..."
"mix," peter's friend said.
"yeah!" peter said excitedly, almost simultaneously with vanessa, who said "yeah!"
"mix is the best, dude," peter gave an old-skool gang-like salute with dat. "miX iz da BEST."
"ANYWAY, where you goin', bitch?" he said to vIXEN CANDie 22.
"i don't know..." she said, SERIOUSLY tempted to join the reading party.
"but then again, i got MAD scrabble scribbles in MY bag!" she opened her bag to see the latest nintendo gizmos.
"NO FUCKIN' WAY!" peter said.
"you game?" vIXEN CANDie 22 axed him?
"NINTENDO? FUCK YEAH!"
"im gonna go read," vanessa said.
she walked to peter. they held each other and kissed, the way only the deepest, deepest love can do.
"let's go," vanessa then said to peter's friend. "we'll get your pancakes roome-serviced?"
"duh," pete's friend said, as they waived to peter and vIXEN CANDie 22 and made their way into the SERVICES ETC facilty, which lit up as the sliding plexyglass doors let them in, illuminating the concierge inside, under a vintage 4'x4' lcd AD from google's pantyhose image search results from back in 2014.
pete looked much better than the guy in the ad. a little rougher, a little less slick. and the guy in the ad was pretty fucking awesome, probably, if you like guys. but peter looked a little more rough-n-streets, and just had that extra, that something.
which reminded vIXEN CANDie 22,
she turned back to peter, and they went straight at it, right there in tha parking lot.
before going into the hotel to play nintendo. plus, vIXEN CANDie 22 had other stuff in her bag. kurt vonnegut. the origin of the torus. economics 304. the art of art. and of course some favorite tarot. some of them were orginals too.
intro - next chapter
images from cards artworks by raffaele de angelis ("dark fairytale tarot") and luis royo ("the black tarot")