AnyOtherName
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 2, 2013
- Posts
- 742
Closed for Scuttle Buttin'
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“So?”
Alyse turned her face to Charlotte, who stood beside her at the kitchen sinks. The former’s expression conveyed that she was uncertain of what was being asked.
“What do you think of him?” the latter added.
“He’s…okay.”
“…Really?” Charlotte asked in a tone of disbelief mixed with disappointment.
“It’s not him. It’s you. I don’t know why you insist on setting me up.”
The blonde woman placed a freshly rinsed plate in the drying rack as she gave a good natured laugh. “I don’t know why you’re so resistant to the prospect. I mean, it’s been a year since the divorce.”
Alyse stuffed a suds covered dish into her best friend’s hands with a little more force than was necessary. “This has nothing to do with that.”
“Well. Whatever it is, you don’t get out much. Certainly there’s no harm in me affording you opportunities, right?”
“It wouldn’t work out,” the woman with unnaturally bright red hair concluded easily. She stood 5’6” and was slender with an ample chest, the curve of her D-cup breast miraculously obvious for her lack of trying. The thin cotton material of t-shirt, black with a golden Triforce emblazoned on the chest, clung possessively as it stretched to accommodate her endowment and hung loosely about her midsection. The flair of her hips was hugged by low riding jeans, which concealed her entirely until the emergence of her flat skater shoes from the bottom cuffs.
“You mind stepping through whatever fucked up series of logic leads you to that?”
“I would. You really don’t need to hear it.”
“Oh, come now. What’s the problem?”
“He’s too nice.”
“What the actual fuck?” Charlotte looked properly indignant. “That’s counter to everything I know about you.” The two had known each other since their early youth, so the statement said more than it might have between others. “How is it that you’re into jerks now?”
Alyse shrugged. “It’s not that, exactly.” She distracted herself with scrubbing another dish, trying to figure out how to explain her thoughts. There wasn’t an easy way to go about it. Before she could formulate a continuance Charlotte’s husband, Brendon, entered through the sliding glass door of the dining room, carrying several empty beers.
“You guys about ready for dessert out there?” Charlotte asked sweetly. She was, of course, referring to the collection of guests outside. A beautiful spring night had allowed the party to dine in the Victorian designed gazebo in the back yard. At present, the last of the day’s light was fading over the horizon and the solar powered clear string lights within the canopy were just flickering to life. Alyse looked out the window briefly, the glare of the house’s interior lights making it impossible for her to identify the three people-shaped shadows outside. She didn’t pay any mind to the continued banter between husband and wife. Charlotte was the embodiment of an early 1940’s housewife and Brendon was some sort of prince charming. The perfect was simply overwhelming at times.
It wasn’t long before Brendon was out the door with fresh drinks. Charlotte quickly picked up on the former conversation as she began to rinse a backlog of dishes. “So, then…Alyse. What is it that you want, exactly?”
“I want you to stay out of my love life.”
“I just don’t get it. The two of you seem to get along really well…”
“Yeah, I tend to play nice with your other guests,” Alyse remarked dryly.
“How sweet,” Charlotte matched her friend’s tone exactly.
Sapphire eyes settled on the blonde as a smile crept onto the woman’s lips. “Listen: just…don’t concern yourself. Okay? It’s totally unnecessary.”
“It’s not as if I’m asking you to marry the guy. But I think it’d do you a world of good to get laid.”
Alyse considered for a moment. She couldn’t deny it. “Yeah, well. Shut up.” She jabbed Charlotte in the ribs with her elbow. They shared in a laugh and the conversation moved along.
A few minutes later the two made their reappearance to the party, equipped with small dishes containing liberal servings of New York cheesecake. The morsels were served and Alyse quickly ceased to pay attention to the hostess or her guests. She was thoughtfully quiet; which was, honestly, as per usual. And so likely it would go unnoticed that she was lost within her own mind. Probably she was listening but had nothing of substance to say as she studied and took small bites of her cheesecake at lengthy intervals.
She couldn’t say how long it had been, exactly. It seemed sudden but the almost-gone state of her dessert suggested it had been at least several minutes. In any case, a mentioning of her name drew her attention and she lifted her gaze as she tuned in to Charlotte.
“—Alyse doesn’t trust my instincts. Which is just too bad, because I’m the best matchmaker ever...”
“Fucking christ, Charlie.”
The blonde woman managed to look innocent. “What?”
“Will you just drop it?”
“Why? I have a lot of success stories,” she motioned a hand towards the present couple. They smiled and hugged into each other in testament.
Tools.
“And you’re my best friend,” Charlotte continued. “I don’t see how you can be mad about me wanting you to be happy.”
“Our needs in regard to happy are quite different, methinks.”
“Yeah, yeah: I get it. You don’t need a significant other, you love your loneliness or whatever… But, say…if you put yourself back out there? What would it take to make you happy?”
Alyse gave a short glance of the company of the gazebo. “I’d rather not discuss it. You’d accuse me of ruining your dinner party.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Okay then.” Alyse set her fork diligently on her plate and placed her gaze upon her best friend. “I have a taste for violence. I’m at least mildly masochistic. And, as desirable as I might find the lovely nerd company you try to find for me, it seems individuals of that social group, in particular, have a difficult time hitting a woman.” After a short pause, she added: “I just want someone who…will come into my house and take me.”
“…Wait. What?” Charlotte looked beyond confused. She was with her friend until the last part. It wasn’t her place to judge, after all…but. “That’s real fucked up. What if someone took you seriously?”
Alyse’s gaze shifted to the only unattached male in the company. He was handsome, intelligent…a genuine good guy any girl would be lucky to have. Charlotte was so certain the two would work out that this was the third gathering they’d been simultaneously invited to: and she was right, they got along fantastically. But Alyse wasn’t interested in her usual. She had married young, before she was old enough to drink; and while she and her husband shared in great times the man could simply never be what she wanted of him in bed, and the same was true of her for him. Nearly ten years of faithful drudgery led to serious talks and a divorce. Alyse didn’t want to love a man so much as she needed to be properly fucked and slapped around.
And so, with direct eye contact, Alyse assured the single man: “I am serious.” She smiled invitingly, watching the man’s expressional response only briefly before turning her attention back to Charlotte.
“You’re terrible,” Charlotte scolded. She fought her instincts to make a bigger scene of the issue. Alyse had said what she’d said, made a complete and utter ass of herself in front of company. No doubt it’d be brought up and fully discussed in the future; but for now, the hostess only wanted to save face for her friend. “And you tell the worst jokes ever.”
Alyse studied her friend’s countenance for a moment. “I really hate for anyone to be confused, so… Yeah. Not joking. At all.”
“Stop trying to ruin my dinner party!” Charlotte chided in a friendlier-than-expected tone. She followed it up with a laugh to reassure everyone that her best friend wasn’t a shameless sex pervert promoting her own rape. “In fact I think you earned a solo dish mission for this distasteful little stunt of yours…”
Alyse rose a brow, nearly objecting, but after a moment she climbed to her feet and started to collect everyone’s dishes. As she reached for the unattached male’s, standing just to the side and behind him, she couldn’t help but add: “I'll leave my living room window unlocked. My address is in the phone book.”
“Alyse!”
The named woman flashed a smile at Charlotte. She had very little hope of this guy taking her bait; which was really too bad, because he was gorgeous and entirely appealing...but, if nothing else, it should teach her best friend to back off.
She had been previously warned, after all.
After she completed her task of collecting dishes Alyse headed unceremoniously towards the house. She distinctly heard Charlotte remarking that “Real men don’t hit women,” to which she dragged along Brendon. “Right, honey?”
“Right,” he agreed quickly. Probably he gave her a kiss or some other sweet gesture like stroking her hair; Alyse didn’t turn back to see, she simply knew they were sickening like that on a constant basis. She had to fight every instinct to turn on her heel and argue with them. She wasn’t ashamed of what she wanted so it wasn’t defensive on her own account. She was just sick of the men – or even just the man she was looking for – being painted as monsters, demonized, no questions asked. The world wasn’t black and white, as many people pretended it to be.
But Alyse Lohr had nothing if not time to think about such things. She was a writer, and as previously pointed out by her friend, spent most of her time alone. Coming upon the age of 29, she probably thought she knew more about life than she actually did – but she was wise enough to avoid most delusional pitfalls. At the very least she understood that the world was almost entirely gray.
-----
“So?”
Alyse turned her face to Charlotte, who stood beside her at the kitchen sinks. The former’s expression conveyed that she was uncertain of what was being asked.
“What do you think of him?” the latter added.
“He’s…okay.”
“…Really?” Charlotte asked in a tone of disbelief mixed with disappointment.
“It’s not him. It’s you. I don’t know why you insist on setting me up.”
The blonde woman placed a freshly rinsed plate in the drying rack as she gave a good natured laugh. “I don’t know why you’re so resistant to the prospect. I mean, it’s been a year since the divorce.”
Alyse stuffed a suds covered dish into her best friend’s hands with a little more force than was necessary. “This has nothing to do with that.”
“Well. Whatever it is, you don’t get out much. Certainly there’s no harm in me affording you opportunities, right?”
“It wouldn’t work out,” the woman with unnaturally bright red hair concluded easily. She stood 5’6” and was slender with an ample chest, the curve of her D-cup breast miraculously obvious for her lack of trying. The thin cotton material of t-shirt, black with a golden Triforce emblazoned on the chest, clung possessively as it stretched to accommodate her endowment and hung loosely about her midsection. The flair of her hips was hugged by low riding jeans, which concealed her entirely until the emergence of her flat skater shoes from the bottom cuffs.
“You mind stepping through whatever fucked up series of logic leads you to that?”
“I would. You really don’t need to hear it.”
“Oh, come now. What’s the problem?”
“He’s too nice.”
“What the actual fuck?” Charlotte looked properly indignant. “That’s counter to everything I know about you.” The two had known each other since their early youth, so the statement said more than it might have between others. “How is it that you’re into jerks now?”
Alyse shrugged. “It’s not that, exactly.” She distracted herself with scrubbing another dish, trying to figure out how to explain her thoughts. There wasn’t an easy way to go about it. Before she could formulate a continuance Charlotte’s husband, Brendon, entered through the sliding glass door of the dining room, carrying several empty beers.
“You guys about ready for dessert out there?” Charlotte asked sweetly. She was, of course, referring to the collection of guests outside. A beautiful spring night had allowed the party to dine in the Victorian designed gazebo in the back yard. At present, the last of the day’s light was fading over the horizon and the solar powered clear string lights within the canopy were just flickering to life. Alyse looked out the window briefly, the glare of the house’s interior lights making it impossible for her to identify the three people-shaped shadows outside. She didn’t pay any mind to the continued banter between husband and wife. Charlotte was the embodiment of an early 1940’s housewife and Brendon was some sort of prince charming. The perfect was simply overwhelming at times.
It wasn’t long before Brendon was out the door with fresh drinks. Charlotte quickly picked up on the former conversation as she began to rinse a backlog of dishes. “So, then…Alyse. What is it that you want, exactly?”
“I want you to stay out of my love life.”
“I just don’t get it. The two of you seem to get along really well…”
“Yeah, I tend to play nice with your other guests,” Alyse remarked dryly.
“How sweet,” Charlotte matched her friend’s tone exactly.
Sapphire eyes settled on the blonde as a smile crept onto the woman’s lips. “Listen: just…don’t concern yourself. Okay? It’s totally unnecessary.”
“It’s not as if I’m asking you to marry the guy. But I think it’d do you a world of good to get laid.”
Alyse considered for a moment. She couldn’t deny it. “Yeah, well. Shut up.” She jabbed Charlotte in the ribs with her elbow. They shared in a laugh and the conversation moved along.
A few minutes later the two made their reappearance to the party, equipped with small dishes containing liberal servings of New York cheesecake. The morsels were served and Alyse quickly ceased to pay attention to the hostess or her guests. She was thoughtfully quiet; which was, honestly, as per usual. And so likely it would go unnoticed that she was lost within her own mind. Probably she was listening but had nothing of substance to say as she studied and took small bites of her cheesecake at lengthy intervals.
She couldn’t say how long it had been, exactly. It seemed sudden but the almost-gone state of her dessert suggested it had been at least several minutes. In any case, a mentioning of her name drew her attention and she lifted her gaze as she tuned in to Charlotte.
“—Alyse doesn’t trust my instincts. Which is just too bad, because I’m the best matchmaker ever...”
“Fucking christ, Charlie.”
The blonde woman managed to look innocent. “What?”
“Will you just drop it?”
“Why? I have a lot of success stories,” she motioned a hand towards the present couple. They smiled and hugged into each other in testament.
Tools.
“And you’re my best friend,” Charlotte continued. “I don’t see how you can be mad about me wanting you to be happy.”
“Our needs in regard to happy are quite different, methinks.”
“Yeah, yeah: I get it. You don’t need a significant other, you love your loneliness or whatever… But, say…if you put yourself back out there? What would it take to make you happy?”
Alyse gave a short glance of the company of the gazebo. “I’d rather not discuss it. You’d accuse me of ruining your dinner party.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Okay then.” Alyse set her fork diligently on her plate and placed her gaze upon her best friend. “I have a taste for violence. I’m at least mildly masochistic. And, as desirable as I might find the lovely nerd company you try to find for me, it seems individuals of that social group, in particular, have a difficult time hitting a woman.” After a short pause, she added: “I just want someone who…will come into my house and take me.”
“…Wait. What?” Charlotte looked beyond confused. She was with her friend until the last part. It wasn’t her place to judge, after all…but. “That’s real fucked up. What if someone took you seriously?”
Alyse’s gaze shifted to the only unattached male in the company. He was handsome, intelligent…a genuine good guy any girl would be lucky to have. Charlotte was so certain the two would work out that this was the third gathering they’d been simultaneously invited to: and she was right, they got along fantastically. But Alyse wasn’t interested in her usual. She had married young, before she was old enough to drink; and while she and her husband shared in great times the man could simply never be what she wanted of him in bed, and the same was true of her for him. Nearly ten years of faithful drudgery led to serious talks and a divorce. Alyse didn’t want to love a man so much as she needed to be properly fucked and slapped around.
And so, with direct eye contact, Alyse assured the single man: “I am serious.” She smiled invitingly, watching the man’s expressional response only briefly before turning her attention back to Charlotte.
“You’re terrible,” Charlotte scolded. She fought her instincts to make a bigger scene of the issue. Alyse had said what she’d said, made a complete and utter ass of herself in front of company. No doubt it’d be brought up and fully discussed in the future; but for now, the hostess only wanted to save face for her friend. “And you tell the worst jokes ever.”
Alyse studied her friend’s countenance for a moment. “I really hate for anyone to be confused, so… Yeah. Not joking. At all.”
“Stop trying to ruin my dinner party!” Charlotte chided in a friendlier-than-expected tone. She followed it up with a laugh to reassure everyone that her best friend wasn’t a shameless sex pervert promoting her own rape. “In fact I think you earned a solo dish mission for this distasteful little stunt of yours…”
Alyse rose a brow, nearly objecting, but after a moment she climbed to her feet and started to collect everyone’s dishes. As she reached for the unattached male’s, standing just to the side and behind him, she couldn’t help but add: “I'll leave my living room window unlocked. My address is in the phone book.”
“Alyse!”
The named woman flashed a smile at Charlotte. She had very little hope of this guy taking her bait; which was really too bad, because he was gorgeous and entirely appealing...but, if nothing else, it should teach her best friend to back off.
She had been previously warned, after all.
After she completed her task of collecting dishes Alyse headed unceremoniously towards the house. She distinctly heard Charlotte remarking that “Real men don’t hit women,” to which she dragged along Brendon. “Right, honey?”
“Right,” he agreed quickly. Probably he gave her a kiss or some other sweet gesture like stroking her hair; Alyse didn’t turn back to see, she simply knew they were sickening like that on a constant basis. She had to fight every instinct to turn on her heel and argue with them. She wasn’t ashamed of what she wanted so it wasn’t defensive on her own account. She was just sick of the men – or even just the man she was looking for – being painted as monsters, demonized, no questions asked. The world wasn’t black and white, as many people pretended it to be.
But Alyse Lohr had nothing if not time to think about such things. She was a writer, and as previously pointed out by her friend, spent most of her time alone. Coming upon the age of 29, she probably thought she knew more about life than she actually did – but she was wise enough to avoid most delusional pitfalls. At the very least she understood that the world was almost entirely gray.
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