Recollections 1 Jo and Brenda
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Recollections From A DiaryChapter 12: Girl Talk free porn video
The pilot announced over the speaker system that we were coming into O'Hare and to fasten our seat belts. After closing the diary and grabbing my bag from the overhead rack, I did. I was still boiling with rage. How could I have not remembered it was Julie who seduced me in the first place? Who put Allie onto me just to get me closer to her? God, what an idiot I'd been. And after all these years Julie practically repeated her earlier performance. Now I was beginning to wonder if that was really her husband, or some lover playing a role under her direction. I was infuriated. I never wanted to see or hear from her again. Forcing myself to think of other things I spent the next few minutes rearranging my itinerary since tomorrow I'd be back at the clinic. The plane touched down at O'Hare and while I felt I was ready to hit the ground running, the usual delay in the connecting flight awaited me, so I found a secluded seat in the terminal and started reading the diary again.
Dear Diary: Three days have passed since my humiliation by Allie in front of Don and Julie. Oh, I know they participated, but I do so love Julie. But I still can't face anyone. I haven't gone to class; I'm just to embarrassed to leave my room. I can't figure out why I'm sexually drawn to Allie. (Maybe I'm afraid to face it, but my decision is to walk away from Allie in the future, no matter how horny I get.) I've told Julie and she's said she'll honor my decision. So, goodbye Allie wherever you are, and good riddance too.
Anyway, yesterday was Saturday and after spending the morning cleaning up, I devoted a couple hours to finishing a report and reading two chapters for my Botany class. Nothing was on for later and admittedly, I was bored out of my mind. So I kinda, sorta wandered the halls looking for someone to gab with. It didn't take long. Robin Joost, a dirty-haired, unkempt blonde from downstairs, was pounding the Coke machine in a vain attempt to either get a Coke or her money back.
She noticed me standing there and said, glancing at me sideways, "Fuckin' machine eats my money and never gives out with the sodas." She was so agitated I figured it was her time of the month. (Later I found this to be true.)
"Here," I said, "let me try," and I dropped in the correct amount of change and promptly received a Coke. Handing it to Robin, I asked her what was going down around the dorm that afternoon.
"Nothing much," she said, opening the can and taking a long drink. Offering me a drink, she said, "Me and the other girls are gonna hang out tonight, ya know, just bitchin' and moaning about life, guys and whatever. Why not come over?"
I brightened up a little and replied, "Maybe I will. Thanks Robin."
"Hey, thank you, you bought the Coke. Oh, I'll call ya, let ya know whose place we're at. See ya later Rach."
Around seven, I hung up the phone after speaking with Robin, it was still raining cats and dogs outside and Julie's just woken up after her late date with Don last night. They had dibs on using the apartment for fun and games, so that's another reason for me to be elsewhere. I showered, threw on a tee, tugged on my jeans and headed down the hall barefoot, figuring I'll enjoy an evening of messing around with the girls. Girl talk--shit like that. Someone was singing inside, the door was open and I walked in, nodding to a girl across the room sitting on a sofa and waving hello to Robin. The door closed behind me and another girl popped out from behind it and greeted me by asking if I wanted to buy in on a pizza delivery.
"Count me in," I said.
"Pardon my manners," said a pretty, petite girl about 5-foot tall, with light brown hair about shoulder length, but last night it was in a ponytail. " I'm sure you don't know everyone here. I'm Meg. Meg Maitland."
She had a great smile. It sorta went with her wide, Julie Roberts like-mouth. She told me she was twenty and a junior. Meg appeared to be happy-go-lucky about most things and was quick to tell me she wants desperately to meet Mr. Right.
Turns out she's an honor roll regular like Julie and I.
Hmmmmmm, I found her very attractive, especially with those pert, pear sized tits and a lovely ass, the kind that men turn around to watch go by. It's her best asset by far.
Meg took my arm and led me around the room introducing me to the others.
"Our lead singer here is Robin, who I think you know and over on the sofa already half-juiced is Doris."
Doris Mitchell, to be exact. Nineteen years old and a sophomore, yet another blonde, sporting a terrible dye job. Turns out she's a great dancer, having studied ballet for over ten years. I admired her pliant and graceful form as she lay prone on the sofa. I noted her small breasts, (Ummm, but later that evening I found she had a delightful pair of puffies) and like Meg, Doris had a great ass and legs to match. She's kinda tall, maybe 5' 6" in flats, with an oval-shaped face complemented by a nice nose accentuated by a nose-ring. Later she was to tell me she's plagued by a severe acne problem she thinks is hidden by judicious use of make-up. I discovered she has no idea of a sensible diet and survives on fast food. Her teeth should have been braced, weren't and are kinda crooked. (Another discovery later that night was that her pussy's shaven.) Doris had no eyebrows-she plucked and penciled in the irregular lines that pass for whatever. She definitely needs help with make-up advice. Overall assessment, not too intelligent, but she'll cope and she's really nice.
Robin Joost, of course I'd run into earlier. She's a twenty-one year old junior. I'd call her pretty, not beautiful, with a rounded face that doesn't quite blend with the rest of her. Her blue-eyes are her best feature. Not gifted in the breast department, she has smaller than average tits, the start of a beer-belly, (or maybe she was just bloated from ya know... ) chunky thighs and a wide ass. Gonna be a heavy babe in later life, no question, but an honest person, who'd do anything for a friend.
Looking around, I saw the place was exactly like mine, but in reverse. Two bedrooms, a kitchenette next to the bathroom entrance with the basic mini fridge, a stove and a microwave. There were several posters on the walls, the group from "Friends," two rock stars I didn't care for and some stud I'd never seen before who probably had a sock stuffed into the tight jeans he was wearing. I took a long look at him and Meg caught me licking my lips, so I giggled and asked what time he was coming over. (So... I'm crazy about socks. What's new?)
"In our dreams," Meg said grabbing her crotch and laughing.
The living room had a large beige colored sofa with fat, fluffy cushions and four oversized pillows. Meg pointed to the sofa and said, "Our guest bed."
"Neat," I said and we both giggled nervously. The mandatory 21" TV with VCR stood across from the sofa.
We started gabbing about things in general while waiting for the pizza. To help kill time, Robin got us to wondering what the pizza guy would look like.
"He's gonna be tall, dark and handsome," Robin offered.
"No way," cried Doris. Shifting her butt around on a large pillow, getting comfortable. "He's gonna be a complete dork, with zits that kill at thirty yards."
We all laughed at that, and then I threw in my two cents, "A blonde haired stud with an earring and a nose ring. And he's gay!"
More laughter, then Meg gave us her opinion. "Italian. Black hair, a little... what's the word? Oh yeah, swarthy. Yeah swarthy, but hung like a stallion," Meg groped her crotch for emphasis.
Doris, laughing with the rest of us said, "I hope Meg's got it right. Maybe we should jump this guy and see if she's right."
Robin threw a pillow at Doris, but before a full-fledged pillow fight broke out, the bell rang. The moment of truth was at the door.
She was about seventeen, and a gorgeous redhead. She was delighted to find a room full of girls instead of horny guys. Her name was Amy and she could only spend ten minutes with us before running out to her next delivery, but we all enjoyed the visit and promised to ask for her the next time we called.
Robin went to the fridge and handed everyone a cold beer. It went perfectly with the pizza.
As I was finishing my second piece the conversation picked up again. Doris started rambling about going out and having a great time singing in her car and cuddling with her two kittens.
Meg tapped my arm and said, "I think one beer may be one too many for her."
She might have been right, 'cause Doris continued her monologue.
"My favorite quote is: "Each of us are angels with one wing and we can only fly embracing each other. I am a dreamer and love to have deep conversations all the time. I read and swim whenever I get a chance. I'm looking for someone that is honest, respectful, compassionate and above all, enjoys life to the fullest. You must be silly and serious at the same time, yet spontaneous and a good planner too."
"What the hell was that, your resume for the Miss America Contest?" Robin smirked at us as she got up to get us another round of beer.
Doris arched a penciled eyebrow, and continued. "I love getting out and doing things that make me happy like watching movies, skiing, hiking, travelling, just getting out and about. I'm not looking for a one nightstand, or even sex. I'm just looking for someone to share my life with, my dreams, my goals, and my thoughts with someone who can appreciate them for what they are. You must be intelligent and know what you want to do in your life and have goals set. I'm also very picky when it comes to age.
She stopped and accepted the proffered beer from Robin and took a long swig.
"What about age?" asked Meg.
"Huh?" said Doris.
"You were talking about being picky when it comes to a guy's age." I reminded Doris.
"Oh?" she said, and took another drink, wiped her mouth and continued. "Oh yeah," and she burped. We all looked at each other, but Doris acted as though nothing had happened.
"Yeah," she said again, pointing at the far wall, "I never want to get involved with a guy over thirty. That's old enough. In fact, that's too fuckin' old. Make that twenty-eight."
That was the last of Doris for a while. She stayed with us of course, but seemed to be in a fog of some kind. I guessed it was the beer.
Meg picked up the conversation and held our interest as she touched on something near and dear to every girl's heart. Beauty Tips.
"One of my closest friends is Lebanese," she began, "and she has beautifully distinctive features, big brown velvety eyes, and rich curly black hair. Sounds like a babe, right? Well, like all babes, she has some hang-ups, and her biggest one is under the eye circles."
Robin and I hung on every word. I can't vouch for Doris at this point, but she seemed attentive in a weird way.
Meg continued. "Since she first brought my attention to this pesky problem, I've been obsessed with it. What's a girl to do when she looks like a raccoon? For starters, there are many rationales for dark circles," and she counted them off on her fingers. "Menstrual disorders, stress, lack of sleep, bad nutrition, or over-exposure to the sun."
I nodded in agreement. Robin began working on another slice of pizza.
"While we all know our eyes look purple and puffy after a bad night on the town, I know now that most circles appear simply because the thin skin below your eyes allows dark blood vessels to show through."
Robin's mouth was open and not for the pizza, she was really interested in this, I wasn't, being a firm believer in getting my eight hours every night. Well almost every night.
Meg was wound up about this subject and chattered on. "So while the bad news is that you're never going to get rid of your circles completely, the good news is that you can conceal them!
"How?" Robin and I said together, then giggling like idiots grasped pinkies to make a wish.
"I'm glad you asked," Meg smiled. It was as though Avon had called on us. I felt the chimes ringing instead of hearing them.
"When covering circles, use a concealer one shade lighter than your normal foundation. I've learned that because under-eye circles are purplish in color, a yellow-based shade will contrast with the circles and conceal them more effectively. My friend swears by Laura Mercier Secret Camouflage. She says it's a little thick, so she mixes it with moisturizer and dots it on with her ring finger. Finish off your concealing with a layer of pressed powder."
It was my turn to wow the girls. "There's a little more to be said on the subject Meg." I began.
"Oh" she said, and covered her surprise at my response by reaching for a cigarette and lighting it.
"As a pre-med student I've learned that in certain cases, dark circles are more than just an unfortunate cosmetic liability. They can be a symptom of certain liver disorders. Also, poor nutrition, dehydration, and lack of exercise all contribute to general bloating and bad skin. If those post-party puffies continue long after the night out, chances are your lifestyle is catching up with you. Do yourself a favor and re-evaluate your health habits."
"Oh, yeah, right," said Meg, a mite chagrined at being one-upped.
Robin, standing next to the window, chimed in, saying, "The temperature's dropping faster than Clinton's pants!"
We ran to the window and sure enough the rain had changed to snow. And that bought up dry skin as a topic. We took turns (except for Doris) explaining how we dealt with it.
I kicked off.
"I have one word of advice: MOISTURIZE! I use Avon's Skin So Soft lotion every morning on my body. For my lips, I'm constantly applying Elizabeth Arden lip balm, and on my hands, Neutrogena body lotion with sesame oil."
Meg stood up and approached me, coming very close and inspected my face. Then with a small, slightly superior smile, she said, "She's probably right about that, her lips are very kissable, at least to me."
I blushed and began to wonder if... no! No way!
Meg continued talking as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. "All right. I have really dry skin, ya know? At night, I put Vaseline petroleum jelly on my feet and other really dry spots. After, I put on socks, then in the morning my feet are smooth. For my hands I love Vaseline Dual Action Alpha Hydroxy Petroleum Jelly Cream."
Robin interrupted to ask how she remembered such long a name and triggered an onset of giggling from the rest of us.
"I just do," Meg replied seriously. "It's really thick, but it's not greasy, and it has a nice scent. The only problem is that it doesn't come in a bottle larger than 4 oz!
Robin entered the conversation adding, "I think using a humidifier helps keep your skin hydrated. And, it helps you breathe better and sleep better, especially in these winter months."
"That sounds plausible," said Meg.
Robin continued, "After I take a shower, I rub baby oil on my skin while I'm still wet. Cause it really helps keep my skin soft."
The room went quiet for a while. Then Doris returned from where ever she'd been to ask, "How is it that some of us just don't seem to understand how some people can lock themselves away in their rooms, study hard and make great grades, yet remain totally sociable and active?
I didn't want to field that one, but Meg didn't seem to mind. She told Doris that in her opinion, "It starts with self-discipline. You've got to get rid of all but one extra-curricular activity. Then find one satisfying hobby to help you take your breaks from studying, and forget television and video games unless you can honestly say you have the power to turn it off in about 15 minutes. Once you find something you can do on your study breaks that you can easily break away from to study again, then you're set."
Meg took a swig of beer and continued. "Get some V8 or whatever to keep you cool and calm while studying. Never lose your head over math problems or whatever it is you're "so bad at." Find your professor and get help. As long as your professor sees that you're studying and doing the homework, they'll be willing to help. Don't forget they're only human and get frustrated with students who ask for extensions. Ya don't wanna do that. And if ya gotta ask for one, wait until the following semester to do it again. If you're focusing on studying, you'll get better at it and within several months you'll be able to study less and socialize more because you've found your grove. Yeah, going to class is a definite plus. The easiest thing to do is skip class. It's just too easy to do it again."
Robin and I clapped our hands in glee. Just like the idiot contestants on "Family Feud" we cried in unison, "Good answer, good answer."
"What a summation," I said. "Gonna be a lawyer or what Meg?"
"Might head in that direction if my grades hold up and if nothing else catches my interest in the meantime," she said raising her hand to her mouth to cover a yawn. I thought she was anything but tired.
"Very sensible," I said. "Got any more beer?"
"Sure," Robin said, jumping up and going to the fridge and coming back with three cold ones.
"Doris," she said kindly, "there's Coke and Sprite if ya want 'em."
"Thanks," Doris said. She was looking out the window at the newly falling snow. "Maybe later. I'll help myself.
I checked my watch; it was nine-fifteen, plenty of time left in the evening. We finished our beers and discussed whether or not to play a game.
Robin left the room for about five minutes. She returned having shed jeans and sweater for a pair of silky red pajamas. She poured herself a glass of white wine before asking us if we wanted to join her in a glass. Meg and I opted for some; Doris declined and opened a can of V8 juice.
Doris drank directly from the can, wiped her mouth and somewhat pensively asked, "What is it that people do that makes you the angriest?"
I know this question caught me by surprise. Doris was gaining my respect as a question raiser. It's not easy to develop a good question. Perhaps, I thought, I might be underrating her.
Robin immediately responded with, "Date rape."
Bingo! I was hooked; these gals were talkin' some good shit.
Meg curled her legs under her and asked, "Would ya tell?"
"I dunno... I guess I would," Robin replied, puzzling over her own answer.
"Wouldn't it depend on the circumstances?" I asked.
"Like what?" said Doris.
"Like under some circumstances I might take it to the grave. Maybe I'd blame myself for goading him on... I don't know." I started to blush in embarrassment at my lame answer.
"What about the shame of it all?" Robin asked probing deeper.
Meg swallowed and said, "Well. If I were raped on a date... I'd have to wire home for more money to get him to do it again. This girl's been horny for some lovin' for over a month now. Ahhwooo!" She howled like a wolf and grabbed her crotch for the second time that evening.
No one else thought it funny.
They looked at me. I'd never given it any thought and said so. But then some ideas floated down from my brain and I said, "It's easy to sit here and say I would definitely tell someone. It's easy to sit here and say I know what I'd do if it happened to me. Ya know what though? The truth is I don't know what I'd do. Like you can think you know. You can believe you know, but after it happens, everything takes on a different perspective, ya know?
They were all frozen in place, hanging on my every word. Embarrassed, I blushed but continued speaking.
"It's unlike... it's unlike any feeling you will ever feel. I mean think about it. The emotions bombarding ya, You feel dirty, ashamed, used, betrayed, frightened, confused, or hurt. Or, all of 'em, 'cause so many emotions hit you at once. I think that with all those things coming at you... well it's too much to handle. Rape victims, well... quite honestly they face getting raped all over again each time they have to relive it... or tell someone, and even going to court for justice and retribution... well ya gotta face that scum, or maybe he's not scum. Maybe he's just a guy... one who you still have strong feelings for. So you have to make a choice, do you tell and deal with all those feelings ya have, or do you just pretend nothing ever happened and try to go on with your life? What choice do you make? What's the right thing to do? It's a personal choice, right up there with that of abortion. One you have to come to ultimately within yourself."
Doris crushed her V-8 juice and walked to the sink and flipped it in the garbage bag sitting there, turned back to us and said softly, "Wow."
"I'm so sorry Rachel," cried Meg, tears running down her face as she hugged me.
"We never should have opened that door," said Robin, "I'm so sorry too Rachel," another hug.
"Hey, wait a minute guys... I've never been raped. I was only..."
They were all staring at me.
"I was only trying to answer the question. I put myself in the victim's place and went from there."
Doris pouting, said, "My God, it was so... like real."
"Let's change the subject," I said, "what's the dumbest, most embarrassing, or retarded thing you've ever done?"
Doris was first with a response. "One time two friends and I were like at these pop machines, ya know? And I deposited my change and all that, pressed the lil' old button, heard the clink, clunk, clang of a can coming out, ya know? So I reach down and, like nothing's there? So I'm flipping out, "Where's my coke? Ya know?"
Her face was animated as she related her story.
"The friggin' machine ripped me off! Ugh!"
It seemed the later it got, the sillier we got, and we were giddy anyway, so to no one's surprise we were all laughing, even Doris.
"Anyway," Doris continued, "I'm pissed and get even pissier... is that a word? Cause my friends were all laughing at me, ya know? Yeah, like right now, ya know? And this other guy--not a real stud, but okay I guess--is behind me waiting and he was laughin' too. Like, I couldn't figure out why... So I reach down again... No pop, no change, no nothing. I start saying I'm going into the store to tell them their friggin' machines ain't worth shit, when one of my so called friends points out to me that I was looking in the wrong slot. For some crazy reason there were two places for a pop to come out and right next to it my cokes were laying there plain as day. Duh! Needless to say I felt like an idiot, ya know?
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