01
They met in late May. Or early June. Juliet didn’t remember. Not that it mattered, anyways, because it was already over after painfully long weeks of heated arguments and steamy sex followed by even more nonsensical disputes and lavish, passionate intercourse.
Juliet hated him. But damn, she was going to miss him.
It really was about the little things. Afternoons cuddled with each other, swiftly stroking the smooth skin of their hungry bodies, or meals at somewhat high-end restaurants, bellies yearning for more than the two fancy peas they’d had for dinner. But all of that didn’t chalk up the lies and the terrible future – or lack thereof – they had planned together.
Memphis Underground, 11 PM. Her bun came undone as she danced her sorrows away, but it was all concealed in the dark of the club. Neons flashed through the crowd and the bangs of the stereo pumping noises that couldn’t even be called music. Juliet hated clubs. She hated alcohol, the acrid taste it left in her mouth and the burning sensation in her stomach; she hated loud music; she hated the smell of sweat and liquor and cheap perfumes all mixed together.
So she did what she did every time she went clubbing: get as close as possible to the speakers, blow her monthly budget on overpriced cocktails and get as physically promiscuous as acceptable to everyone in the room. And it ended up like it did every time she went clubbing: one too many Manhattans and sweaty cha cha cha’s later and she found herself rushing to the bathroom, her guts begging for sweet release.
Juliet made her way through the sea of hot bodies, meeting hey’s and fuck’s here and there, barely covered by her incessant gagging.Never drinking again,she said so many times.That shit happens all the time, I should now better...and yet here she was, bursting open the restroom’s metal door and stumbling onto the cold hard ground, slightly throwing up in her mouth.
She barely had the time to stand up and walk past the horrified woman trying to correct her makeup that the contents of her bowels were projected onto the seat and the walls. She clumsily lifted open the lid, suppressing a gag, and allowed the stream to gush down into the toilet.
Damn, she was messed up. Fell to the floor, into her own vomit – thank God for leather pants! Puking gallons of alcohol and junk food, busy tucking away renegade strands of hair.It’s really over this time!she thought again as she sobered up in an instant. She felt so miserable, so helpless when tears started running down her cheeks.
Stop crying. Think about the wrinkles, babe. The wrinkles!
And she laughed, quietly. And she puked again, then used an ungodly amount of toilet paper to wipe the bits and pieces off her face. Juliet took a few instants to compose herself in the relative silence of the restroom, only cradled by the distant growl of the music playing in the club.
She heard laughter coming closer, and the door opened; “Are we alone, Leila?” a feminine voice asked, followed by more footsteps. Three different sets, Juliet reckoned; two pairs of heels and one of flat shoes.
No, she wasn’t a shoe addict. What would make you think that?
Juliet remained quiet, when she heard an overly loud and exaggerated sniffing, like someone mimicking that of a dog, sometimes overshadowed by loud moaning and excessive amounts of kissing.
“Alone. But it fucking stinks in here,” another, rougher woman’s voice replied. “Come on, let’s get to business.”
Juliet’s blood froze when she heard some murmur, someone speak in tongues. The stall next to her opened and the trio engulfed in it. The sounds of a belt unbuckled and pants going loose echoed through the dirty restroom. As quietly as possible, Juliet lowered her head to peep through the gap underneath the stall wall, almost coming in full contact with her own vomit. Sure enough, three pairs of legs – heck, two stilettos and one flats – were rubbing against one another. Flats’ pants were tossed on the ground as she sat on the toilet. Black stilettos kneeled in front of her, and red stilettos stood beside her.
“You’re so wet, baby,” the rougher voice – Black’s voice – said. “Let mommy take care of that. I promise you will feel good.”
Juliet’s chest tightened as she felt mixed feelings; disgusted, ashamed, and... aroused? No. Impossible. That patch of wetness growing between her legs was because of her puke.
Thank God for leather pants? Oh, damn.
An irrepressible feeling of lust travelled to her nether region as she stealthily got back on her feet and removed her shoes. She tried as best as she could not to step into her own puke as she listened to the muffled moans next to her – a subtle mix of Black eating out Flats like there was no tomorrow and – probably – Flats and Red making out.
But if Juliet wanted to give in to her not-so-hidden lustful desires, she’d have to step into her vomit to climb on the toilet. Which she did. Which didn’t even disgust her, because nothing was getting between her and this life-changing fingering session she was about to experience.
Now, Juliet’s never been into girls. Her only experience was in third grade when Marcy showed her her tits for a dare. Truth be told, she wasn’t really aroused by the fact girls were having a steamy session next to her; it was more of an element of god-forbid-what-you’re-about-to-do, of publicly orgasming and filling someone’s mouth with your juices.
A hidden force pulled her head above the stall only for her to become mesmerized by the show. As she was expecting, Black was going to town on Flats and Red was making out with Flats like her life depended on it. Juliet’s body tensed as she realized the sexual power of the situation taking place in front of her.
Black and Red were objectively beautiful women. Flats – well, not so much. Cute, but by all means forgettable. Black and Red had the amber skin and raven locks of Middle-Eastern Sheherazads, Flats was a somewhat overweight white girl who clearly hadn’t dressed for clubbing. Juliet was mesmerized by the sheer size of her breasts – and the pungent smell of sex that started filling the room.
“I... I have a boyfriend,” Flats mumbled when Red let go of her mouth.
“Shhh, baby,” Black said. Her voice was so calm yet so commanding at the same time, like a mother gently but firmly scolding her child. “Does he make feel good like I do?”
“No...”
“I know... spread your legs for me.”
“I shouldn’t...”
“You’ve been a bad, bad girl,” Red chimed in. “Let us take care of you.”
Red lifted Flats’ blouse above her breast and lowered her bra, groping both mounds of flesh and kneading them like dough.
“Not my tits, please, no...” Flats whispered as Red pinched her nipples between her fingers. She went back to the kiss as she rolled and stretched them, and Flats was letting out desperate cries for release.
Juliet’s underwear soaked up her juices. She just wanted to get her hand down there and feel how moist it was, but couldn’t realistically find a comfortable position to do so, standing on the feeble tip of her toes over thar disgusting toilet.
It was the hottest shit she’d ever done.
“You wanna taste her too, Lamia?” Black asked.
So Red was Lamia. And Black was Leila. And Flats was clearly about to orgasm.
“Heck yeah,” Lamia said, still fondling Flats’ breasts. She went in for a kiss and tongued Leila’s mouth before smiling and turning back to Flats. “Mmmh your turn, girl. See how good you taste.”
“I’m gonna...”
“Shhh, keep kissing me.”
“What... what’s happening?”
The girl’s eyes widened, her legs twitched uncontrollably as a soft moan escaped her pursed lips. Her eyes rolled back and she yelled at the top of her lungs as she climaxed, there, in that questionable bathroom stall.
Lamia stopped fondling the girl’s breasts and gracefully placed one hand before Flats’ mouth the way a dancer would elongate her fingers to finish a move. She moved them in front of the girl’s mouth as if she was begging for something to come out of it, until the mouth opened ever so slightly more and a green glow escaped. Without a word, she cupped it within her hand and directed it towards her open purse.
Flats’ body reclined back onto the seat, passed out.
Juliet freaked out – what if the girl was dead? What the fuck had just happened? Maybe she should call the police – she should definitely call the police. Oh, and what if those two came after her? She had to be cautious, and in complete silence, she move a foot to get down and-
-and fell to the ground in a loud thud, hurting her head in the meantime. On the verge of passing out on the floor, in a puddle of her own puke, she felt a warm wetness behind her head. Blood. It had to be.
Juliet heard commotion next to her, words exchanged – bangs on the door.
Her consciousness faded as the door opened and two familiar figures made their way into the stall.
