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ASMTD Ch. 05 free porn video
June 10
Tomorrow comes and goes with no word from Leo. It’s not until six o’clock the following night that I start to get antsy.
‘Rai,’ Em punches my shoulder as she shoots me a dirty look, ‘Stop staring at your freaking phone and try to socialize.’
We’re out at a Lebanese restaurant having one of our mandatory program dinners. We’ve had one other since we’ve been in Dublin and they are beyond painful. It’s all polite inquiries from Joanna and Zayne about our writing and how we’re enjoying Ireland and canned answers that omit the night clubs and constant drinking.
‘So, Rai, how’s your book coming?’ Joanna asks around a mouthful of jasmine rice.
I covertly slide my phone to Em, hoping she’ll understand that I’m addicted to the piece of technology and in desperate need of a sponsor. Girl has my back and slips it into her purse.
‘Great. Except for the writers’ block. I’m stuck on this one scene where my character Angeliq—I told you about her, right?—is going to this funeral-party-thing. Not sure how to construct the party.’
‘Because it’s science fiction?’
‘Mixed with mythology and culture norms. Still working out what a funeral looks like in the world I created.’
‘Hmm. Have you read the Night Huntress or Fever series? Both do a great job of creating their own world and mythos. Might be a good study guide.’
‘They’re on my list,’ I say as I use my spoon to cut a large piece of lamb.
Joanna makes a sound of agreement before moving onto the next student. Not a second later I’m thinking about Leo and why he hasn’t called or texted me, and what’s wrong with me and what’s wrong with him.
‘So, poetry?’ I force the words out and direct them at Em. ‘You write it.’
‘I do.’ She smirks. ‘Thank you for noticing after a year.’
‘Dude.’ I punch her arm. ‘How’s it going? You’re submitting to mags and contests right?’
‘Yeah. Lots of time, energy, blood and sweat. You know the deal. But two places have already accepted me.’
‘That’s amazing, Em!’
‘With conditions.’ Her lips twist wryly as she rolls her eyes and says, ‘They want me to change them a little.’
‘I see. Are you struggling with literary integrity?’
‘Yes and no. They’re paying me, and you know I can always use more money, but I feel like if I change my work I’ll be changing myself to fit someone else’s mold.’
‘Probably wouldn’t have to if you wrote that white man pain bullshit.’
‘Right!’ she lowers her voice, and makes a frown. ‘My life is just so hard. My girlfriend dumped me and then I saw her favorite flower. Reminded me of this time she gave me a blow job. Now I’ll never have that again. Let me just go kill myself.’ Her voice changes back to normal and she makes a popping sound, ‘And just like that you have a New York Times’ Bestseller and winner of a fucking million awards.’
We laugh and commiserate about how difficult it is to be women writers. For a second, I’m not thinking about anything but the difficulty of getting my stuff read, let alone published because my full name is Raiqah Muhammad Hussein. With a Moroccan father and white American mother, I’m interesting but not all that marketable for the masses.
The meal transitions from entree to dessert, all syrupy pastries that remind me of home. I’m struck by acute homesickness and fight off tears as I think of my father layering phyllo dough, crushing nuts, and mixing rose water with sugar. Ali Muhammad Hussein might be a lying, cheating bastard, but he is one hell of a baker.
‘Back to the hostel?’ Em asks hopefully as waiters and waitresses clear the table and everyone gathers their things.
I nod and sling my purse over my shoulder, instinctively reaching for the phone in my back pocket. It’s not there. My whole world shuts down for a second before I realize I gave it to Em. Serious dependency issues I need to work on. ‘Yeah. I’m exhausted.’
‘Me too.’
‘Me three!’ Kate joins in, popping up from behind and wrapping her arms around our necks. ‘What are we talking about?’
Em rolls her eyes. ‘Going back to the hostel. You in, or are you going to hit a club with the rest of them?’
Kate gnaws on her lower lip as she thinks. ‘Club. I’ve been in a shit mood because of you know who, and he’s not going tonight. Might finally get some action.’
‘You already had action,’ I comment, shrugging off her arm and making my way to the door.
‘Yeah, but that was tainted action.’
‘Only after the fact.’
‘The fact still happened.’
‘Okay. So, we’ll see you when you get back?’ I turn to her once we’re on the sidewalk, half the group already moving across the street and toward Temple Bar.
‘Yeah. Don’t wait up!’
Em sidles up next to me as Kate dodges traffic and catches up with the other group. Bumping my hip, she asks, ‘Ready?’
I nod, reaching again for my phone to check the time. Funny how it’s still not in my back pocket.
‘Here.’ Em hands me the smartphone and rolls her eyes. ‘If I have to watch you reach for your pocket and then look stricken one more time, I’m going to hit something.’
‘You hit enough things. Pretty sure there’s a bruise forming on my arm.’
She punches me lightly and sticks her tongue out. ‘Well that should help it along.’
‘Heifer.’
‘Ho.’
We trade joking insults as we make our way back to the hostel, Joanna and Zanye in front with Zora glued to her phone behind us. The night is quiet and cold, moisture from the rainfall this afternoon clinging to the air. After what seems like an eternity of walking, I check the time: 8:03PM and still no word from Leo. I give up the pretense of waiting for him to text, and write him a quick message.
Rai: We good? 8:04PM
Not expecting a direct answer, I slide the phone into my back pocket and turn to Em. ‘Ahh, life.’
She casts me a sidelong glance as we briskly cross the sidewalk and beat the light by four seconds. ‘It’s a bitch and then you die?’
‘Yeah, that too.’
‘What else?’
‘It’s not fair.’
‘You mean like how it gives you a super hot Finnish dude to pop your cherry and then yanks him away?’
‘Am I that obvious?’
She sighs dramatically and reaches for her back pocket before a look of horror crosses her face.
I punch her arm. ‘I do not act like that.’
‘Oh yeah you do.’ She stuffs her hands in her front pockets as we reach the hostel and climb the stairs up to the door. ‘But he was your best book.’
‘For now,’ I say demurely, playing coy though I feel anything but. ‘There are many libraries in the world with all types of books.’
Barking out a laugh, Em opens the front door and casts me a look over her shoulder, ‘Just let me know when you find a skinny, red-haired book with washboard abs and a diploma.’
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