Kiss her

You smile at her impishly, clasping your hands behind your back and leaning over.

She gets ready, but you dodge at the last second and chastely peck her cheek.

She gives you a look. You smile.

“It was good to see you,” you say, giving her a little wave.

She snorts. “Fucking tease,” she mutters. “Listen, Jenny. I like you. So I’ll tell you two things.”

“Oh?” You cock your head.

“Yeah. I’m not kidding when I say that Alex is pissed. Watch out for her,” Roxy says, referring to the leader of the Free Gurls Motorcycle Gang.

“Gotcha,” you reply. As if Alex would do anything to a college girl in Gurlberg. The cops already hate the Free Gurls. They won’t do anything bad.

“And that Hustler? It wasn’t the only thing I saw under this chick’s bed,” Roxy says. With that, she closes the window and climbs down, disappearing.

You stand up, smiling.

You’re impressed. And a little turned on. That was a nice exit for a dumbass like Roxy. You gaze out the window, touching your finger to your lips. Is Roxy a good kisser? You could have found out.

Oh well. Another time, maybe.

You kneel to peek under the bed, finding a blue box there. Frowning, you pull it out.

Smith and Wesson. Well, you know what those words mean. Is this a gun? What’s Sissy doing with a gun? You lift the lid and… to your relief, the gun is here. So it’s not like Sissy is carrying it around.

Overcome with curiosity, you lift it out of the box: a stubby little revolver. According to ot the paperwork it’s a Model 10, and it holds six bullets.

You put everything back in the box, cover it, and return it to its place under the bed. Is it against the rules for you to have guns in here? You’ll have to check, but you think that is. The same with real ****, but all the girls just keep their reefers in the treehouse out back…

Why does Sissy feel like she needs a gun?

Troubled, you stand up, brushing off your dress and straightening your glasses. This is turning into a strange day. Well, you’ll just have to talk to Sissy about this when you see her.

You hope she’s OK.

But you can’t get totally hung up on this. You leave the room and head downstairs, listening to the window blowing against the old house, which creaks. You love CCL House. You can’t wait until you’re running it. Until then…

You pick up the phone in the foyer and dial the Gurlberg’s best pizza place. Pepperoni for you, sausage for Kris, cheese for Lisey, and… you frown. You don’t know what Karen likes.

“And a veggie pizza,” you say. “Just in case.” You don’t mind spending a little money buying the love of these girls. It’s an investment.

The order is placed.

You stretch your arms over your head and let out a sigh of satisfaction. Another week behind you. Only a weekend of possibility ahead of you, and a week at home with your family.

Things couldn’t be better. It’s going to be a fun weekend and a fun week.

You yawn and head upstairs, listening to the groans of the old house. You love the old-timey wallpaper and the framed photos everywhere, black and white images of girls smiling at you. There’s nothing that you love more than the legacy of CCL.

Years and years of girls who weren’t afraid to love girls.

Decades of standing up to the patriarchy. You take a deep breath. It will be a lot of responsibility, once this is all yours, but you are determined to keep CCL on the right path.

You head upstairs and go to your room, a modest space no different from most of the other ones: bed, desk, dresser, window, and… that’s it. You also have a closet, but the closet is not the problem.

Your bed is an antique from the days of yore, a canopy bet with curtains and everything.

And it’s not empty.

Lisey lies there, looking at a textbook. Her Sony Walkman sits on the blankets beside her, and the headphones cover her ears. You can hear Pink Floyd playing.

Lisey is a little blonde about your size, although unlike you she keeps her hair in a short, almost masculine cut. As she lies on your bed, she’s only wearing white panties and an undershirt.

You pause. She’s helped herself to your room and your bed.

You don’t mind, but… you do have a choice because she doesn’t realize that you’ve come back. Her little feet are dancing and her hips wiggle as she listens to her music and studies.

Surprise her?

Or don’t surprise her?