STAVE 1 - The Party

Sheena first spied the mouthwatering Vince Carino at Zach's birthday bash, a party she had been reluctant to attend. “You’ve turned into a boring lump, Sheena," the possessive Marion chided. "Parties are fun! Zach invited some bikers. Who knows? Rival gangs might trash the place. There could be a big fight."

Sheena was frank with her. "I hate those things," she insisted. "Noise, smoke, grab-ass biker thugs, I don’t call that fun."

To please Marion, but mostly to shut her up, Sheena wriggled into the tightest black leather leggings imaginable and accepted that noise, smoke, and biker thugs might actually be fun.

The party's racket was already well advanced when they arrived. Drunken carousers spilled out of the brownstone onto Flatbush Avenue, and moments later, the girls pushed and shoved their way up steps deliberately narrowed by rowdy, catcalling gang members.

"Hey, baby doll," the tallest of them idly drawled. "Nice ass. Come sit right here?" He patted his knee, the one not already occupied by that EXXPLICIT NEWS bitch, Katherine Tinker, who, as usual, looked down her nose at Sheena. "There ain't no empty seats inside, beautiful," the biker nagged.

Though cute, Sheena steeled herself and answered abruptly, saying, "Get lost!"  

Sleeping Harleys lined the street; four NYPD cruisers stood sentry at either end of the block. With burley cops eyeballing the party's raucous overflow, Sheena wondered if the place might be targeted for a raid.

"Oh, great! The cops are here!" She grumbled. "You wait, Marion, they’ll bust this fucking place! I don't need this shit! I only just started my job at the library. They’ll fire me if I get arrested."

Once inside and facing a sea of mostly unfamiliar faces, the girls navigated a cloud of marijuana smoke laced with heavy metal music. Straight away, Marion linked up with her inconsiderate boyfriend, Bishu Dey. As usual, Bishu snubbed Sheena. Grinning at Marion, he handed her a half-eaten bag of buttered popcorn. After a nod and a wink, the on-again-off-again couple melted into the reeking potpourri. Alone, Sheena, moving further on, ranged past indistinct faces in search of whomever.

A brief moment later, she spotted ‘whomever.’ It was only a passing glimpse, but the man's chiseled features and manicured goatee, framed by longish, dark, wavy hair, boosted Sheena's attraction. She spotted an ‘outlaw’ patch on the man’s tattered denim vest. He was definitely a Pagan biker; it made him noticeably out of place at a party brimming with belligerent 69ers. Despite it, he moved about comfortably, almost as if he belonged. For a closer look, Sheena moved in, but, as happens in crowds, he evaporated when she blinked.

Through a frantic instant, Sheena tore at the place, and her darting eyes eventually recaptured the man. He stood with a woman who attended to him with perfectly timed nods and winks. She was the far-too-bedazzling Ethiopian Maharene Simoon.

A tall, exquisite, slender girl, she came from a place that mass-produced hatefully tall, exquisite, mortifyingly slender girls. Officially, Maharene was in New York as an embassy staff secretary. Sheena knew the truth. Maharene was not what she claimed. For extra cash, she had taken to giving blowjobs for a posh Midtown escort service. Sheena was too late. Maharene was hitting on the biker.

Maharene’s big black eyes were locked to his, and just then, with a suggestive smile, the biker leaned to the African. Cupping a hand over her ear and wandering her ample breasts with the other, he said something unseemly.

Frowning and shaking her head, Maharene angrily pulled away. Whatever he was after, the African's negative response was emphatic. Not having gotten what he wanted, and despite her imposing presence, the biker turned away, leaving the forlorn hooker probing the room for fresher game.  

Assuming he sought a girl who would say ‘yes,’ Sheena stepped into the breach of what she knew could not be more than a fleeting sexual vacuum. As she approached, however, a gay couple intruded by sashaying between them. Maddeningly, at just the wrong twinkling, the pair stopped to share a kiss, and to keep from losing sight of the biker a second time, Sheena stood on tiptoe. When the gay kiss ended, the biker vanished again.   

Next, Sheena approached Maharene, who greeted her in the friendly but slightly detached way Ethiopian girls do. "Selam New, Sheena," she said brightly. "I only just saw Marion with...with Bishu, that terrible creature of hers," she caustically said. "You are here with her tonight?"

Sheena cherished Maharene's sexy, delicate way of speaking English. Her deep voice was erotic yet proper. Straight off and abruptly exhausting her glossary of Amharic words, Sheena replied, "Selam New, Maharene."

"How nice to see you this day," Maharene said, cordially hugging her. "Oooo...so pretty," she added, her delicate fingers fussing with Sheena's knit Sherpa scarf. "Yes, so very pretty. Is this way-too-loud party to your liking?"

In a measured tone and nervously looking about, Sheena lukewarmly conceded, "It’s all right, I guess." Changing the subject, she asked, "Maharene, about that big guy who just grabbed your boobs; where'd he go?"

Maharene's demeanor straightaway changed from warmth to glowering, and she motioned over her shoulder to the hallway beyond. Sheena looked but did not see him.

"Huh! Don't waste your time!" Maharene lectured snootily. "He is…um…how do you Americans call it? A douche! Guess what he said to me? HE SAID HE WANTS TO FUCK ME IN THE ASS! Imagine? I only just met him! Nevertheless, he wants to fuck me in the ass!" She contemptuously crossed her arms and, then, smiling, added, "So, hey, I see you are here with the Snack Queen."

"With the...um...what kind of Queen?" Sheena asked, clueless.

"Ooooooo-la-la! So, you are unaware?"

Maharene, leaning suggestively, whispered a secret into the interested girl's ear. "Seriously?" Sheena asked, incredulous. "Are you sure about this?" Maharene's eyes widened, and she nodded insistently.

"You did not know?” Maharene asked. “It is such a very funny thing, Sheena. Bishu, Marion’s boyfriend, that pig...he revealed this to me…this secret. He is a bad boy to tell me what he makes his Snack Queen eat! But he tells great secrets to me, and I very much like that part!"

"I hate Bishu," Sheena agreed. "But I'm glad you told me the secret, Maharene." Redirecting the subject, she asked, "You wouldn't have an extra Obi-Wan Kenobi, would you?" Hastily searching her congested purse, Maharene retrieved one, which she dangled in front of Sheena like a just-out-of-reach door prize.

"It is yours, Sheena. But first, you must tell me something," the bargaining Ethiopian insisted. "Only then," she added, waving the little plastic stick, "only then will I give you this...this, how do Americans call it; this, crotch swab." Maharene beamed expectantly. "So, what about it, Sheena? Did Bishu...you know...does the terrible man make you do the popcorn thing? Does he make you do it like he makes Marion do it?"

Sheena, reminded of Maharene's taste for gossip, forcefully denied it. "No way would I ever do that. But thanks for the tampon."

Whisking the slender tube from the Ethiopian's supple fingers, Sheena glanced around at the dozen witnesses to the little exchange. "Gee," she sarcastically shouted to the gawking multitude, "maybe you all can follow me into the bathroom to watch me change!"

Obsessed with locating the Pagan, Sheena stepped away from the dazzling African and slinked into the narrow hallway. Standing alone, her handsome prey offered the searching woman a hook-up kind of smile.

    STAVE 2 – The following morning.

"Sheena!” she urged. “Wake up! It's morning!" She tugged hard at her girlfriend's arm. In denial and despite the urgency in Marion’s voice, Sheena stayed put.

"Sheena Zayed!" Marion’s tone, upping itself from double-quick to double-quick and shrill, jarred the sleepy girl from her fuzzy haze, which, as it faded, prompted a wussy moan.

"Whaaa...ah...huh? Where...where am I?"

Marion tugged even harder. Sheena's eyes shot open. "Oh. It's you," she groggily said. "I'm beat, Marion, go away."

"We need to get out of here, Sheena!" Marion mouthed. “I'll lift his arm, and you slide from under him!"

"His what? His arm? Who—WHO IS HIM?"

Hesitantly turning her head, Sheena eyed him. He was handsome, smiled composedly, and was sound asleep. "He's a big one, Marion." Heavy on her chest, his muscled arm lay limply. "Shit, is he who I think he is?"

"He's the biker you picked up last night!"

"Last night? Oh! Last night!"

By then, Sheena's eyes, having cleared, followed the length of the man's tattoo, a greenish, angry-looking dragon venting fire shards at a naked, helpless maiden. The monster's image extended the length of his arm, its pointy tail ending mid-bicep, its menacing head at his wrist. The maiden, provocatively naked and big-boobed, huddled defensively and clung to his middle finger for protection.

Impatient, Marion hissed, "He's not just any biker, Sheena! He's a Pagan! He's Vince Carino! You slept with him. Sheena, Jesus! You have your period! You need to stop doing that!"

Sheena shifted her body weight, her eyes nervously darting over the tousled bed covers as Marion searched for something. “What are you doing, Marion?”

 "I'm checking to see if my best friend bothered to protect herself from her fucking self, that's what I'm doing! Did you? Did you make him wear one? I'm not finding it—them!"

"You're not finding what?"

"A condom!" Marion’s sharp eyes raked the floor for evidence. She even rustled through the wastebasket. "Shit! Fuck! Damn it, Sheena! There's nothing here! You did him, bareback!"

"Um..."

"No 'ums'! You’ll be late for work! The party's over! "

"The party!" Snapshots from the previous night flashed through her mind: the noise, the packed rooms, catching sight of a stranger’s cut-off vest, a guy! THIS GUY!

"Don't wake him, Marion," Sheena pleaded. "I remember now. We smoked some weed!"

Marion pointed. "Is this what you call SOME weed?"

Embarrassed, Sheena eyed the remnants of three engorged roaches resting none too innocently in a filthy ashtray. "Shit! Triple shit!" 

"It helps to know what you're smoking, Sheena,” Marion lectured, “Just like it helps to know who you're smoking with!"

Playing Dopey to her worried friend's Grumpy, Sheena suddenly understood. Her foolish behavior meant she could not fault her scolding girlfriend.

"Sheena," Marion hissed again. "Check your tampon. Is it in there or not?"

Sheena's look turned doubly apprehensive as she ran her fingers down her naked stomach. There, between parted legs, she touched herself. Tugging the string, she cringed. "Fuck, it is there!"  

"Maybe it's a good sign," Marion offered. "Maybe you didn't..."

"…my butt stings something awful, Marion," Sheena reluctantly admitted. Reaching further, she cautiously touched the puckered tenderness of her anus before withdrawing her hand from under the covers. Raising it to the early morning light filtering through the window blinds, she viewed the sticky, translucent fluid webbing her fingers. "Shit!" Sheena repeated.

"Shit," Marion echoed.

Shoving his arm aside, Sheena carefully sat up. As her feet touched the cold floor, the biker stirred but did not awaken. Instead, snoring loudly, he rolled onto his back, his burly chest on parade.

Sheena's head was spinning. "That weed blew me away," she said, admitting the obvious.

Squatting on all fours, Marion sifted through the tangled mess of clothing strewn about, plopping bra, panties, and leggings onto her friend's lap. Slipping into the bra and clutching her blouse, Sheena meekly followed Marion into the hallway, where she wavered. "Marion, wait. Give me something to write with." Searching her purse, Marion pulled out a pink Sharpie. 

"I need to make a statement," Sheena said. Reaching back, she unhooked her bra, slipped it from her shoulders, and penned her number on one of the cups.

"Now what?" Marion disbelievingly asked. Turning, Sheena glanced back at her slumbering fuck-buddy. Like a child trapped in a man's body, he smiled and clutched the pillow like a favorite teddy bear. "What is it, Sheena?" Marion asked.

"Wait here," she insisted. Retreating to the room, Sheena carefully laid the bra beside the sleeping giant. Then, pulling on her tattered blouse, she stumbled back outside.

"You all right, Sheena?" Marion asked as the pair descended the steep stairway of the brownstone.

Less embarrassed than she should have been, Sheena said, "He fucked me in the ass, Marion."

"Yuck," Marion lamented. "It happened with that other guy, too. Anyway, did you like it?"

"Don't know," Sheena confessed. "I can't remember. I just know we did it."

"You sure? How do you know?"

"I'm dribbling," Sheena revealed. "Let's go. I need alone time in a hot bath." Following her girlfriend and reacting to the chill of the autumn air, Sheena shivered and hesitated again. 

"What?" Marion guardedly asked.

Turning serious, Sheena, gazing back at the quiet building, mumbled, "That’s my best bra."

"I hope he appreciates it, Sheena," Marion said.

    STAVE 3 – Mountain Romance

"It's me, Marion!" Foolishly staring into the lens, Sheena beamed self-importantly. "Yes! I'm up here in the mountains with you know whooo...V-i-n-c-e-n-t! Say hi to Marion, Vinnie...say hi!"

Awkwardly, Sheena handed the phone to Vince Carino, who, just as awkwardly, grinned, held the device at arm's length, and cheerily, if gruffly, said, "Hey, Marion baby! How ya doin', Marion? Check ya later, Marion," after which, he turned the device back to Sheena, who, sitting in her morning gloriousness, was adorned in the big biker's colossal, white, terrycloth robe.

As planned, the little scene was perfectly choreographed. With her back to the cabin's picture window, she held onto a tall, clear glass mug filled to the brim with a steaming specialty coffee. It was Vince's favorite snack, and now, it was hers. Sipping, Sheena smirked.

Sheena's gamble the morning after Zak's party had paid dividends. Upon awakening, the giant biker found her bra just as she intended, and the unexpected happened. Vince called. Now, weeks after their epic backdoor fuck marathon, the crafty girl had what she wanted.   

This morning, Vince, splendidly naked, his fading erection peeking out from between muscular thighs, played cinematographer as Sheena gazed at his god-like physique. 

"Big smile, Sheena," he playfully instructed. The elated girl grinned and waited as Vince zoomed in before moving on to the bedazzling view of the serenity of the mountain lake beyond.

Neglecting to mention the black flies that left her legs a mass of red welts, Sheena continued. "Look, Marion! Can you stand it? Isn't it the most gorgeous place? It's even prettier than Prospect Park.” Returning to Vince, she directed him to point the camera at the rowboats by the water.

As he did, Sheena returned her attention to Marion. “So, Marion, we're at the club’s private cabin in the mountains! It's made of real logs! I'm so happy. Are you happy for me?” She instructed Vince to move the camera around the room so Marion could see the fireplace and rustic atmosphere. “Marion,” she went on, “we're in the Adirondack Mountains. I think it's the Adirondacks, or maybe it’s the Rockies; I'm not sure which. Where are we, Vince?"

"It's the Adirondacks, sweetie."

"Oh, yeah, right. It's way far upstate, like in the wilderness! Vince is just so...so romantic! He insisted on bringing me here on his bike! I'm making him do this video, so you'll be green with envy! You know I’m only kidding, right?"

Carefully panning the place, Vince moved the camera about the room. "See that giant fireplace, Marion? Vince burns wood in it, just like in olden days! He cuts down trees and everything! We, I mean, Vince and me, we smoke dope in front of an open fire every night. So warm and cuddly, know what I mean?" Sheena winked idiotically.

"And look, Marion," she added, raising her voice with her glass. "This coffee is scrumptious. It's called Café Misto." She took a long, lazy hissy-sip. "You so have to try it. Starbucks makes it, too, so we'll get some next time we meet, or you can even make it at home. It won't be as good as Vince makes, but mostly, all you need is milk and coffee. Remember to heat the milk in the microwave first. Do it on high! Then, pour it into the hot coffee. Got it? For me, as a special bonus, Vince adds his personal flavorings, don't ya, Vince?"

"My personal flavorings, sure, baby," he repeated.

"Anyway, he makes it the best!" Sheena blew him a sultry kiss and sipped again. "It's sooo fucking good."

Looking straight into the camera, and with Vince zooming in, she brazenly stuck out her froth-covered, whitened tongue. She pointed to the milk mustache on her upper lip and said, "You're not gonna believe how different this is! Anyway, Marion, we'll be back in New York soon!"

Sheena gulped, smiled, scrunched her face, and, waving in little circles like a seventh-grader, she added, "See you soon, hon. Lots to talk about over Café Misto, OK? I have lots to tell you, OK?" She winked again stupidly. Taking a final swig, Sheena swallowed hard and swept her hand past her throat like a movie director signaling, "Cut."

Vince chuckled and tapped the camera's off-button. "That was fuckin' great," he laughed. "Hey, Sheena, let's send her the video right now."

"Absolutely! Send it!" She gushed. "Do it now!"

"Good," he acknowledged.  Suddenly turning business-like, he added, "Finish up. That coffee's gettin' cold."

    STAVE 4 —Snack Chat

˃˃˃˃˃Coffee dessert, yes, you know it’s good news” Savoy Truffle, The Beatles

Theirs was not some chance meeting. The girls had prearranged it the week before. Its purpose was simple; each consented to bring the other up to speed about her relationship. Starbucks was the place; their brew of choice was Café Misto, the unique coffee Vince Carino had introduced to Sheena during the couple's recent stay at the cabin.

"That's it, Marion," Sheena calmly remarked. "It's what we, you know, it's what me and Vince did up at the cabin."

Cautiously bringing her mug of steaming brew to her lips, Marion sipped loudly, declaring, "This is really good, Sheena, but frankly, though the story of your mountain escapade is sort of amusing, it’s also yawn-worthy. Is that the best you can come up with after spending time with Vince?”  

"Are you bored with my story, Marion?" Sheena asked, observant of her friend’s indifference.

Marion lukewarmly shrugged. "I guess I imagined something, you know, something more risqué, Sheena, something slutty. After all, you're Vince Carino's girlfriend. You guys must do all kinds of spicy things together."

"Well," Sheena contradicted, "just so ya know, your saga of watching dirty movies with Bishu is completely lame. Vince and I do that, too, and it's no big deal; everybody watches dirty movies. Are you sure you’re telling me everything? Is there more to the Bishu story? Remember the rule, Marion: no holding back, spicy details, please!"

"I'm not holding back!" Marion defensively fibbed. Sheena knew differently. Her best friend was lying. "Anyway,” Marion continued, “I want him to watch porn with me rather than with some bimbo—and, by the way, we only watch female-friendly videos. A girl can't say no to these things. Get what I mean?"

Due to Maharene’s eye-opening revelation at the party, Sheena knew Marion’s secret. Still, she nodded as if she knew nothing.

It was girlfriend time, a moment to relax together at the Penn Plaza Starbucks; the agreed-upon rule was clear: each would tell the other the shocking details of sex, boyfriends, and their sordid adventures with bad boys like Vince Carino and Bishu Dey.

Sheena was tempted to laugh at Marion but kept her composure and smiled. The rule against withholding evidence was clear, yet she allowed her clueless friend to carry on, knowing she would have a chance to cross-examine her. 

"So, that's all?" Sheena asked. "Can I assume you’ve told me everything?"

"Yeah," Marion lied. "That's all there is."

The crimson blotches flaring on her bosom said otherwise. Sheena, chuckling to herself, added, "And, I think I am correct, you call the little happening ‘popcorn-porn’ night." Marion, taken aback that Sheena was aware of the esoteric label, anxiously nodded. "And,” Sheena continued, “I’m told Bishu pops the corn?" Marion nodded again.

Sheena knew better.  Marion freely fed her boyfriend's fantasies, making the thought of Bishu and Marion watching "female-friendly" videos together and innocently munching hot-buttered popcorn laughable. Bishu Dey, Sheena reasoned, could play that game with anybody and probably did.

"That's it, Sheena," Marion insisted. "It's Bishu's number-one fantasy. A girl has to go along with these things, right? Besides, it's sort of fun. That's my story for the week; now it's your turn. Tell me what you and Vince did up there."

With her signature neck blotches receding, Marion, anticipating Sheena’s disclosures, planted her elbows squarely in front of herself and propped her chin on knitted fingers. Broiling with curiosity, she incorrectly assumed the conversation had moved on from her saga to her girlfriend’s.

"I really like this coffee, Sheena," she remarked again. Warming her hands with the mug, she added, "I never heard of it until you and Vince made that video in the Poconos."

"The Adirondacks," an annoyed Sheena corrected. Sipping again and shrugging her shoulders, Marion conceded the point. "Right, the Adirondacks…right. Anyway, it's your turn, Sheena." Her eyes brightened with anticipation. "Tell me Vince Carino stories. Is his dick big like Maharene says it is?"

Like a grade-schooler whose teacher had just left her class unsupervised, Marion turned girlish. Setting her Café Misto down, she lowered her hands to the table and folded them. Smiling, she waited. "So?” she insisted, “Are you going to tell me stuff or not?" 

Leaning forward, Sheena dropped the first of two bombshells. "I shouldn't need to explain, Marion. You should have figured it out by now." Lifting her mug, Sheena took a weighty sip of Café Misto and stuck out her milk-coated tongue.

Marion blanched. She covered her open mouth with her hands. What Sheena had been intimating all along was suddenly obvious. "NOOOOO-FUCKING-SHIT!" Marion loudly cried. Sheena nodded her head in condescending triumph. People at adjacent tables gave the girls sharp looks. One man, who did not exactly have ‘open-mindedness’ etched on his forehead, rolled his eyes.

"THAT FUCKING VIDEO! Marion proclaimed. "The one at the cabin!"

"Yup," a nodding Sheena confirmed. "Remember?" Marion's face froze, but regaining her poise, she relaxed and light-heartedly stretched back in her chair.

"So, let me get this straight: Vince jerks off in your coffee? That's the 'special flavoring' you let slip in the video?"

"Yes, well, no, not exactly; actually, Vince doesn't jerk off; I jerk him off. I make him spurt into my Café Misto. It's his personal recipe, and just between us, his cum is delicious." Holding her mug up, Sheena pompously sipped.

"And after that," Marion furthered, "he adds the..."

"...hot milk, yup."

Marion trivialized the startling exposé by turning smug. "Are you telling me that's the whole point of the video?"

"The one from the cabin, yes!” Sheena replied. “You’re finally fucking getting it, Marion? God, you're dense."

Marion laughed, her face blanching white, red, and white again. "I do get it!" She admitted. "But you're such a slut, Sheena; I'm Mother Theresa compared to you! Tell me how often you drink his special brew!"

“Once a week, sometimes twice,” Sheena indifferently confessed. You know how sex is, Marion. A girl does just enough to hold her guy's attention. If I don’t limit him, Vince will expect me to jerk his cock every day; he will get bored."

"Wow," the astonished Marion whispered. "Wow!" Pausing a moment, she gazed down into her frothy cup.  Hesitantly, she took another sip. "Sheena, what if he insists; what if he wants it more than that?"

"He won't," Sheena self-confidently declared. "I taped the whole thing: hand job, ejaculation, and swallowing, it's all there. Vince can jack off to it whenever he wants. The video is like having a babysitter."

Half in wonder and half in disdain, Marion looked on in amazement as her friend casually gathered her things. "I have to go," Sheena announced. Vince is having his favorite tonight, vanilla cream pie."

As she rose from her chair, Marion said, "Sheena, one more thing. What do you call it? The fantasy, I mean?" Inventing snappy labels was a routine part of their exchanges. Sheena smiled wryly as she fitted her black leather jacket and snugged her skin-tight gloves.

"We call it…well, Vince calls it a protein Slurpee."

"Really? That's it, a Slurpee?" Marion smirked, her narrowing eyes suggesting contempt at the simplicity of the fantasy's uncouth label.

"Don't bother looking down your nose at my jizz-drinking routine, Marion," Sheena countered. "I happen to know you left something out of your story. Maharene told me that Bishu butters your popcorn with his gooey cum, which is totally gross! How you can do such a thing is beyond me."

Shocked that Sheena knew the secret of Bishu's disgusting fetish, Marion's face reddened again. Still, despite her girlfriend’s earlier underhandedness, Sheena leaned to her and planted affectionate kisses on both cheeks. "See you here in two weeks," she said.

"See you in two," Marion replied.

The End