The juiciest fuck

Dear Diary; Have started a list of women I would sleep with. Clueless roommate Chris was working on his list yesterday and told me to join in. He says that all the guys on the floor are doing it and we’re going to post them on the wall of the common room. Is tradition, Chris says, giving me toothpaste-commercial smile.

Gah. Is like pinning our penises to the wall.

So. A list of girls I would dingle? Have two so far: Bugs-Bunny-When-He-Dressed-Up-Like-A-Girl Bunny and Lucy Cadaver from our Sister Floor.

Lucy is wonderful. She wears big fur coats that swallow her frame. She peers out of the bulky collars at people, inventing reasons why they are bothering her. She is cool and cruel, like Galadrial. Love her.

Went up to visit Lucy in her room for the first time last night. She opens the door all sneaky like a dervish, looking left and right down the hallway (she hates the other girls). She says all hushy when I go in, “Did you notice? Did you? Everything in this room is Magazine Inspired!” Little hand sweep like she’s Vanna White and then she slips over to her stereo (stereo, not ghetto blaster) and puts on the Goldberg Variations.

Thought to self how picturesque we are, cross-legged on her bed. A tree outside her window, all soggy and grey, was knocking its twigs on the glass. Inside, we are clever and full of banter. Inside, we are toasty and bohemian. Lucy and me.

Loads of smile and laughter. But then there was a breach of the platonic.

Her foot touched my thigh when she sat next to me. She didn’t move it. Went on talking about life in rez, how sorry she was that I had to live with Chris. The foot, touching my thigh, began to shine. I ignored it. It turned into a mouth and started yelling “Look at me!” I ignored it. The mouth turned into a vagina and started rubbing its clit on my jeans. I shuffled.

Lucy just kept on talking, oblivious. Did I invent the touch? “Chris must be a terror to live with. The boy is an ape.”

Blushed a bit and muttered “He’s okay.”

“You like him.” She lay down, all serene, and put her head in my lap.

“I don’t.” Explained to her about my two-month boyfriend, Jamie.

She bats her eyelashes up at me like a geisha hiding a knife. “Does Chris know you like dick?” At the mention of its name, said dick stretched awake. Couldn’t tell if it was for Chris or for Jamie. Or Lucy? It was her head in my lap after all. She was going to feel it. It was going to come up and poke her in the ear. Had to do something.

Pushed her off the bed.

She scrambled up, dishevelled, as I brought my knees to my chest and continued the conversation like nothing had happened. Told her no, no, Chris doesn’t know. Also, told her how Chris had me making a list of ‘doable’ girls.

Begged Lucy to let me put her on my list. She said no and that am snivelly coward. Is true. But still a bitchy thing to say to me.

So, finally, the lists all went up in the common room. Chris’ had 63. I counted.

My list had one entry: Bugs-Bunny-When-He-Dressed-Up-Like-A-Girl-Bunny.

Chris read my list. Laughed like ugly donkey and beer went up his nose.

Thought might just go back to room when Jamie showed up.

Lucy leaned in like conspirator. “Isn’t that your boyfriend?”

Jamie’s grin came gleaming over the heads of all the idiots like a skipping stone. He moved through the crowd and gave me a huge kiss, in the middle of it all.

The other boys breathed in and did not breathe out.

Lucy hugged her fur coat to her chest, “Wild! I’m panicking Right Now!”

For a moment, Jamie and I were the apex of a pinwheel of gazes. Then a second managed to tick by. The microwave beeped and someone moved to get it. Another second passed. A kid in the corner turned on the television. Someone started talking. People loosened.

Jamie started talking about his day.

Thought that everything had happened. But nothing had. The world, like it didn’t care, kept on turning. The boys on the floor, too cool to notice, kept on drinking, wrestling, laughing.

Now, am back in room. Jamie’s gone home. Lucy’s gone to bed. Is 3 am, and Drunken-Roommate-Chris just got back. He undressed and slurred the words, “Man, I just had the juiciest fuck”. I grunted and went back to you, diary. But Chris, watching me from his pillow, wasn’t done.

He actually said the perfect thing: “How about you?”