Nobody ever nags about the total stoner, it’s better than being the shy wallflower.
“You’re sure you don’t want me to drop you off Frank?” Mister social worker TLC asked for the seventh fucking time. Frank had sprinkled around with lies, like a fucking fairy. To foster mom Karen he lied and asked if it was ok if he spent the weekend at Chad’s, his supposable lab partner who clearly didn’t mind doing all the work alone. Because for some unknown reason to Frank Chad still added Frank’s name at all their ‘group projects’. Maybe it was Chad’s way of throwing him a pity party or maybe Chad was just used to getting used. Whatever it was, a win-win for Frank.
Anyway Karen seemed thrill to see how her big bad foster fuck had started to change into a little angel, who helped cooking, did the dishes, could kind of take care of the kids and did his homework. Oh, if Karen only knew how far she was from the truth. That’ll probably rub that self-content smile of her face every time she watched him helping out. She should have known better, but she was too ignorant and nice to see him through.
As he lied to Karen that he was going to Chad after he was done at Hope House, he lied to Gerard. Sprinkling his lies about projects and study he convinced his social worker Chad’s home was just two blocks away. While in fact the bus stop was two blocks away and then fifteen minutes till Tamika’s house, adding about ten more minutes because he still had to change clothes.
“No, it’s fine. Only a few blocks away.” Frank said trying not to sound annoyed. He didn’t get why the guy wouldn’t get off his back, all mister social worker had to do was filling in a few papers or transferring him over to another place if he fucked up.
“Really, it’s fine.” Frank emphasized. “It’s only half passed five, I’ll be there around dinner.” Dinner my ass.
Gerard seemed to conclude on his own that Frank wasn’t going to budge and nodded slowly, letting it sink in that he didn’t need to be Frank’s person life saver. Seriously Frank started to get creeped out by the guy. When he arrived at Hope House Gerard seemed to keep an eye on him, drowning him with compliments. ‘You’re great with kids Frank!’ Duh, of course he was ‘great’ at working with kids. More than half his life he’d been taking care of other foster fucks and it didn’t actually take a lot of skills to tell kids what to do.
Most of his life he’d always kept one eye open, so keeping an eye on a bunch of kids was a piece of cake. They were all stuffed in a classroom, most of them where retards. There was only one clear way out, namely the door. You had one crippled kid, one blind one and a few that probably didn’t have the smarts to see a window as an extra escape route. So all he had to do was watch the door if someone got in or out, prevent a fight and play along with their games. He’d made a painting of a turtle for their ‘project’, shaped clay in inappropriate forms before turning it in a mouse and amazed the female worker with his amazing talent: being able to make fruit salad without burning the place up. He wouldn’t be surprised if he got the nickname of Amazing Frank after today.
Gerard finally stopped nodding, ready to let him leave and rush to the bus stop. He still had enough for a bus ticket, he’d counted. And with a little luck he could get a package of cigarettes at either a gas station or whatever. Else he had to whore the entire night to get a cigarette and he rather didn’t give Tamika anything that she could use against him.
“So, bye. See ya.” He sounded hurried now and a little annoyed, didn’t wait for a return and started walking towards the bus stop, speeding up a bit before Gerard could change his mind.
He’d taken the wrong bus, of course his luck. Instead of the 423 he should have gotten (Tamika had explain the bus system twice) he got on the 432 and it took him about a half hour to figure out why they’d driven past his stop.
He was lucky at the gas station though, guy in his mid twenties seemed miserably dwelling over his shitty job and didn’t even look past his magazine when Frank asked him for a Marlboro Red and a six-pack of Budweiser. Hell, if he was late he might as well have a pre-party.
Tossing the six-pack on the cistern he locked the tiny cubicle of the station’s toilet. Unzipping his bag pack and jeans he quickly switched ‘descent clothes’ to ‘party clothes’. With the money he worked for he bought some tight jeans, dark colored and faded on the knees. He also bought a black shirt with a few neon green skulls on them, figuring those would do with Tamika. He’d also made a detour from school a few days ago, back to Shaggy to buy some pot. Decent pot, this time. The guy promise this was the real ‘shit’ after he showed him his Ritalin pills, change was made quickly under the eyes of a few stay at home mothers who were walking their dogs.
He didn’t know what to expect of Tamika’s party, had hardly spoken to her because he was either busy skipping school or hurrying his ass back from the Metro station to Hope House. By now he almost made three hundred bucks, spend about half on cigarettes, pot and clothes. The other half he’d stocked away underneath the soles of his old worn sneakers. Never make it obvious you have money, vultures smell shit like that.
He rolled a joint and downed his first beer. He wanted to get rid of the nerves, because if it wasn’t for the free booze and possible drugs, he wasn’t a party person. To keep it simple, he didn’t mingle into conversations. Oh, I so second that! You’ve been to Jeff’s beach club too?! No shit that girl is so out of your league! No, he wasn’t good at making conversation let out trying to keep a conversation up. Talking mindlessly with stranger, urg.
So he drank and smoked and downed his second beer. And then when he felt mellow and slightly giggelish he had to open the cubicle, because the smoke started to make his eyes stingy. Waltzing to the sink he stared in the mirror smirking because he looked ridiculous. The shirt was a little too big and the jeans where way too tight. Shaking with his hips he managed to push the jeans far down his hips, making him wish he’d worn something more kinki then a plain grey pair of boxers. He laughed, then giggled over the sound of his laugh. So slurry and stoned, it made him feel real good about himself. Nobody ever nags about the total stoner, it’s better than being the shy wallflower.
He touched himself a little, touching his crotch lightly through the thick material of his jeans and he swore, stumbling back to his bag. Condoms, he had no idea where the party might lead to but he always came prepared. Hell, since his fourteenth he’d been walking around with condoms just in case.
Fixing his hair with plain water didn’t work out much, besides looking like a drowning pup. Ruffling through it with his other shirt he decided that his hair looked like shit and would look like shit anyway.
Nearly forgetting his jacket and bag pack he staggered out of the toilet getting a few odd looks from truck drivers. Feeling brave he whistles to them, and then has to run as fast as his drunken ass legs could carry him. But it made him feel fluttery and happy, thrilled to be very much alive and stoned, maybe a little drunk. With no idea where to go he finally decided to either take a cab or wait for some guy who’d like to get his dick in his mouth. Tough luck for the guy’s who’d like to get a blowjob because he spotted a cab. First the driver didn’t seem too thrilled to take him along, but when a few twenty dollar bills came out of his shoes (like a fucking magic trick) the driver nods and asks for the address.
For a guy who sucks at pretty much every class Frank has an amazing memory, even when stoned or wasted or halfway into a coma. Therefore it didn’t too long before the cab dropped him off at Tamika’s sidewalk, getting way too much money out of that shitty little drive. But Frank was far beyond making a fuss about money.
The house and pretty much the whole neighborhood didn’t quit catch him as Tamika. It all looked a little too plain and uptight. Beside well, the house that was sort of spinning in front of him. Rave music blasted when a heavily drunken couple walked out, tongues down each other’s mouth. A few feet further was another couple in the middle of a heavy make out session on the bumper of a random car, parked the way Gerard drives. Another car was parked on the grass, leaving heavy tracks and two guys where convincing another guy he was too drunk to drive back home safe. The clearly drunk driver was fuming practically ready to punch the motherfucker who kept his car keys out of reach.
To Frank this all felt like a warm shower, he wasn’t going to stand out at all. Hell he blended in before he even got inside.
He moved around the making-out-couple and ignored the drunken-near-fight-guys. The door wasn’t open but he figured nobody would kill him if he came in without a knock, the music was too loud anyway.
Inside fumes of alcoholic drinks, sweat and party hit him in the face, along with hot air and blasting music. It was hot, sweaty hot and people where dancing, chatting and a few where all over each other on the couch. Frank maneuvered himself to the kitchen and snatched the first free plastic cub he could find on the counter. A guy shouted at him, but he couldn’t hear him and wasn’t interested in whatever the guy had to say to him. He downed the cub without actually tasting the content, got himself another one and remembered he was here to see Tamika.
Getting back to the shouting guy he yelled: “YOU KNOW WHERE TAMIKA IS?!”
The guy frowned, pointed at his ear and shrugged. Frank rolled his eyes, got closer and yelled his question again. The guy started laughing and punched him roughly on the chest. Frank didn’t know if that meant the guy wants to fight or if he got made fun of. Either way Frank wasn’t liking the guy.
- BROTHER- The guy tapped on his own chest and had to scream – BROTHER- in Frank’s face a second time. Ignoring the fumes of beer and specks of salvia Frank stuck out his hand.
- TRISTAN!- Clearly Tamika’s parents had a fetish for weird names.
“FRANK!” He yelled himself jerking his hand back because the guy was squeezing way too hard. If you ignored the bull like appearance the guy indeed shared tiny features with Tamika. Same doe-like eyes, jaw line and ability to spew mindless information. Frank could pick up words vary from RUGBY, TEAMPLAYER, SCORE and BOOZE. With the last word Frank got a new plastic cup in his hand and shoved out of the way when Tamika’s brother spotted a friend.
Frank looked at the guy smashing his forehead into the supposable friend’s and silently chuckled when both guys blink and hug each other.
Someone had changed the music to somewhat more slutty, giving the drunken girls a change to show what they got. A few where dancing onto of a coffee table when Frank got back in the living room.
Their hips moving well together, straightened hair getting out of shape, someone showed her boobs, guys whistle and Frank stared with a stupid grin on his face. Someone shoved him roughly aside, getting punched in the face and Frank got his face smacked into the sharp hips of one of the dancing queens. A fight broke down, most girls stopped dancing and started to cheer to their favorite and Frank couldn’t thank his luck enough because sharp-hip-girl felt sorry for him and kissed him drunkenly on the mouth. For bystanders this must be a blast to look at because the chick was on the coffee table and seemed gigantic compared to Frank, she must have practically be kneeling. Frank didn’t mind though, took advantage on her alcohol-reduced focus and pushed his tongue into her mouth before she noticed.
Girl clearly lost all her standards, only grabbed him tighter and started sucking on his lower lip. This girl must have been in her twenties, easily.
He had to stand on the tip of his toes to give her better access to his neck, but he still didn’t complain. Eventually he got thirsty again and told her he was getting another drink, without asking her if she wanted anything he moved back to the kitchen, rubbing the tingling spot on his neck.
‘I got an Uni girl’, Frank thought extremely content. ‘I got an Uni girl.’
- FRANK?!- Someone yelled when he tried to find a filled plastic cup. Hazily turning over to the voice he noticed Tamika coming down the stairs. Jeez, she must have yelled real hard. For a party she was dressed very weird, pajama pants bottom and a pink top. A pink fluffy top with some hearts and sparkles and oh shit he was totally checking out her boobs.
The cups of alcohol simply where gone, he was damn sure that a few moments ago he’d been holding one, but it was gone now. Then he remembered he was at the party to see Tamika, or at least find Tamika. Because going to a party where you don’t know anyone is uncalled and rude. Drinking booze from someone you don’t know is like a crime.
He must have tried to tell her that halfway her question: When did you got here? Because she looked at him funny. Shocked wasn’t the correct word but weirded out was a good second best.
So he screamed: “NICE PARTY!” and tried to figure out what asshole took that cup. His luck was gone though, because he got pulled along by Marine blue nail polished fingers to the first floor. The music was presumably ‘less’ blasting over there because Tamika started to talk again.
Frank cut her off: “I MET YOUR BROTHER!” And then he went swaying against the banisters subconsciously moving on the beat.
“NICE PARTY!” He blurted when Tamika only stared at him confused. She rolled her eyes and shook her head in a very motherly way. Which kind made him want to tear her head off, because she had no right to judge him. She invited him, which ruled her out of making him feel bad. Stuck up snobbish little bitch, in her pajama’s and fluffy nearly see through top. Frank wondered if, using all of his mind power, he could undress her with his eyes. Stoner thought, totally legit to have at the moment.
“WHAT?!” He yelled agitated when she refused to speak or babble like she’d normally do. Seriously if he’d know that he’d think twice about getting another drink. Even better, he could have stayed with Uni-sucky-mouth and be all the way down her bra by now. He could be touching someone far out of his league and get away with it.
Yet he let her guide him like a sheep, trying to keep his feet straight and knocking something of a cupboard. He giggled because he saw a few thongs on the floor and nearly walked into a pink doorstep. Feeling the wood swoop along his face he blinked and found himself in the Mecca of a troubled teenage girl. Where one side of her wall was covered with band posters, the other side had a shelf with vary of stuffed bears. A polar, a panda, a brown grizzly holding a peddle. She had flashing colory Christmas lights stapled all along her ceiling with kind of gave a strip bar vibe and a layer of skany tops lay on a big purple FatBoy. A big TV flashed MTV and went black white from moment to moment.
She dropped him off on her bed and he didn’t object, curled up on the side just so he could see the TV from that angle. It had been a long time since he’d had access to so much booze and the weed was definitely ‘the shit’. While Frank had a blast at staring at moving MTV pictures Tamika slowly retrieved back in view, now wearing an ugly dressing gown.
“Nice party.” He said again, now able to top the booming sound from below without raising his voice.
“Yeah, wish it ended three hours ago.” She replied, voice a little thick.
Frank started to wonder how late it was.
“They always do that you know?” Tamika stated, assuming Frank knew exactly where she was talking about. “My brothers.” She explained and sighed. “When my mom and dad are out they throw parties like this, every damn time. I’m sick of it, because I’m always the one cleaning up after their drunken asses. Seriously next time I’m just going to call the cops.”
‘Party pooper’, Frank thought but didn’t reply. He was very happy to be back at chatter and silently listening. She sat down on his opposite side and he could feel her lower back touch his thigh. He wasn’t sure what her next move was going to be but remembered the condoms in his back pocket.
“I didn’t think you’d come.” She confessed a little miserable, which kind of explain her pajama and lack of smudgy make up. “Why did you show up anyway?”
He could lie and break her heart and completely rule out whatever might happen next so instead of ‘free booze’ he answered: “Because I said I would.” If he’d rolled over he would have noticed her intensely happy gaze. Yeah, if only he’d cared enough. Instead he eyed drowsy at the TV watching Kesha move just the way Uni-sucky-girl had done on the coffee table. He wondered if she’d been drunk enough to jerk him off, or if she would have slapped him if he suggest it. No, he was pretty sure that she would have shoved her manicured hand down his tight pants. Or like did it properly, shoved him into the bathroom and zipped his jeans off.
“Hey you wanna get high?” He offered and turned on his back, lazily pushing his arm behind his head. She shrugged and so Frank sat up and started rolling a joint. He lit it and looked through the room, the fuzzy funky colory room that reminded him of the red light district. He lay back and stared at her ceiling, noticing how the cracks started to swirl and how his face started to feel numb. She cradled comfortingly against him, her leg swung around his and her chest rose soft but steady against his arm.
He handed her the joint and felt her squirm even closer, he was in bliss. Warm, fuzzy and he could feel her breast against his upper arm.
MTV quietly played songs, the flashed from the screen moved slowly up to the ceiling. As Tamika’s lips crept up his jaw line. He exhaled and smiled, feeling king of the world. Clearly he was getting Tamika’s other way of company as a bonus tonight. He turned around, bowed over her and dumped the joint in an iron jewelry box, then kissed her on the lips, moving one hand underneath her neck.
He thought of someone special, he thought about Nikkie and deepened the kiss, tilting his head skillfully and slowly towered above her. He wasn’t sure having sex with this girl would mean anything special to him and he didn’t care to be honest. He was high, getting hot and worked up, he’d been getting ready for a possible fuck and he got prepared.
Her back curled nicely when he ran his hand underneath her pink top and he enjoyed the way her smooth skin felt underneath his fingers. It felt delicate and girlish, warm and soft. Very different then the skin of random guys, very different.
She squirmed underneath him when he started to unbuckle his jeans, his tight jeans, his now very tight jeans and he moaned soft when he pulled the thick fabric down. Oh he was getting it on with this chick, he was finally going to see further then her sexy panties. ‘Frankie is getting laid tonight,’ he thought well content, softly rocking his hips into hers. Oh fuck he was so over the edge of wasted and the double shot of pot was just pure ecstasy wrapped in fluffy see-through pink tops. She totally had nice boobs, perky. Fuck it, he was going to call ‘em perky, both. He pictured them to be soft and firm, for some reason he figured she worked out. Like had some kind of treadmill machine in this house, or whatever the fuck he should call those workout machines. He never had to work out, simply because he hardly ate and puked a lot from stress. Frankie, earning a golden star as a bulimic slash anorexic porn star, selling his junk for a dime. Fuck, they should make a movie out of him, like he could sell his biography to like Spielberg and get rich. And then he could be high and wasted and fucking Tamika until he died.
He figured out this master plan while moaning, licking, trying to twist and turn in an angle that didn’t make his arm feel cramped up. He kissed her, rough and thoughtless trying to wiggle his free hand down her PJ bottom. He was in a euphoric state of mind and totally prepared.
And then she had to speak, nothing more than a whisper which made Frank’s drug indulged mind go from black to HOLEY FUCK in 0.02.
“I’m a virgin.”
Frank shot up, gawking at her and tried to get his jeans back up at the same time as he stuttered: “W-what?!”
The girl threw her gaze down as if she had anything to be ashamed about. While frantically plucking a lose string of her top she explained: “I never had sex before, I thought you’d think I was lame or something. Because all girls I know have done it, several times. But I wanted to wait…” She sighed and couldn’t bring herself to look up at him.
Frank felt his stomach turn and suddenly realized how much he’d drank and how this wasn’t going to turn out into a simple drunken fuck. Euphoria cracked and fell apart.
“Shit!” He cursed out loudly and zipped his jeans up.
“I’m sorry.” She screeched. “I thought you wouldn’t want to hang out with me because I’m such a stupid little girl. And you’re, you are different, so I thought-“
He cut her off by shaking his head: “-You’re fucking out of your mind.” He rolled over, stumbled to get on his feet and felt panicked, corned like an animal. No way he was going to having a drunken fuck with a virgin, that was just one step away from date rape.
“You don’t want me to nail you, because it doesn’t mean a thing to me. I don’t give a fuck about you, never will. You’re right, you are just a fucking kid who’s too retarded to see who she’s hanging out with.” Word spilled with a slur while his mind screamed panic, panic!
He still hadn’t successfully buckled his belt when he ran out of her room. He tripped halfway down the stairs and saw the whole party spin from the floor.
And then he puked all over the pumps of Uni-sucky-girl, because that was like his last resort of self-defense. Too sick to be embarrassed he started to yell back at her and called her a slut. In reward she imprinted her handprint on his cheek, he gave her a shove and got jumped on by some guy.
Some Guy picked the wrong guy to fight with, because Frank felt tricked and sick and he was so tired of being stepped on. Plus booze and pot always had a unpredictable effect on him while being stressed.
People cheered, other’s screamed. All Frank could hear where swooshes of fists coming at him. One connected with his nose, he ducked grabbed the guy by his wrist and pulled him close, colliding his knee with Some Guy’s crotch.
And Some Guy went down and Frank only saw red and ignored the screams, being lead on by the cheers. He kicked Some Guy in the ribs, again and again. Until it started to get really quiet and Some Guy hurled, a hand twitching up: no more, no more.
Then little Frankie ran, ran like the wind and as fast as his jello legs could carry him.
Yes, again sorry for the big lack of updates. Sorry sorry, this chapter just took a long time and I’ve started so many new things this one got on hold.
For some reason I wrote most of this chapter listening to Kesha, so if anyone thinks Frank is a total slut, blame it on the music. Have to say I’m a big fan of Frankie and Kesha, they are a good combo.
Enough random information, YOU LEAVE SOMETHING NICE OR I’ll, I’ll get a panic attack, there you don’t want me to suffer now do you?!