Jainie (spooky_cupcake) wrote in lilpinkfic, @ 2008-03-20 22:46:00 |
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Current mood: | busy |
Fourth Wall - Chapter Two: Ocula
Title: Fourth Wall
Chapter: 2 - Ocula
Summary: Mark treads deeper into dangerous territory...
Fandom: The L Word
Pairing: Shane/Mark
Rating: NC-17 for language, mature subject matter, drug abuse, sexual situations.
April 5, 2005 00:11:14:00-00:3:45:00: Shane gets home late, as usual. Coke. No girl again. Hangs out with Jenny for a little while in the living room, talking about her writing, but goes quiet when she brings up Carmen. Jenny tries to change the subject, sweet girl, but there's no saving it. Shane leaves and goes into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.
Jenny sits at her desk and writes for a while. She stops and covers her face with her hands and cries. I think she misses her friend.
Shane can hear her through the door, but she doesn't come out to ask what's wrong.
April 6, 2005 00:8:10:00-00:8:32:00: As I'm coming into the kitchen from using the bathroom, I can hear Shane and Jenny talking. Jenny sounds apologetic. Shane sounds reserved, but understanding. She reassures her that she's fine. Jenny sniffles and, as I'm walking into the room, I can see that they're hugging each other.
I really wish they'd give that threesome thing some more thought.
April 6, 2005 00:9:32:00-00:10:40: Dinner party. I'm actually allowed in the house for this one. I feel like an attraction at the zoo – Shane and Jenny's pet straight boy. The girls are nice, though. Shane and Jenny's friends, most of whom I've never met.
A pregnant blond named Tina, another blond named Alice (read her articles in the weekly – not bad), Dana Fairbanks who's the tennis pro (came out via a Subaru ad – big hero in the lesbo community), and Carmen.
Everybody mingles and makes nice-nice, talking about this and that and the other. Jenny and Carmen sit next to each other, whispering and smiling. Shane can't get away this time, though, so she drinks – heavily – for most of the evening. The rest of them just ignore her as if what she's doing is perfectly normal.
Shane catches me staring at her and flips me the bird. Cute. Nobody notices. It doesn't seem like they notice much of anything she does.
Seems like nobody notices her tonight but me.
--
FOLLOW-UP INTERVIEW #2: Shane M. McCutcheon 04/06/05 – 10:21pm
Q: So... nice of you to join me again this evening. I appreciate it.
A: [...]
Q: What would like to talk about tonight, Shane?
A: [...]
Q: Should I just – yeah, okay, all right. I'll ask a question. Cigarette?
A: Thanks.
Q: Finally, she speaks. Hi. So... tell me why you love women. What is it, for you, about them that gets all the good stuff under the hood revving?
A: I don't know.
Q: Yes, you do, Shane. You've got a brain up there. I know you do; I've seen you use it. So, c'mon... hit me.
A: Because... because they're soft.
Q: Okay, yeah. Soft. Soft is good. What else?
A: The way they smell... I mean, every girl has her own scent. Not just perfume, though... her. Her sweat. Her body. Her hair.
Q: All right. Now you're talkin'. You do hair, right?
A: Yeah.
Q: So what kind of hair do you like on a girl? What really turns you on?
A: Long hair. Shoulder-length. Maybe longer.
Q: And dark. You said you like brunettes, right?
A: Yeah.
Q: Nice. White? Black? Asian? Any preference there? Asian girls are pretty hot.
A: Not really.
Q: Right. Right. So... how many chicks have you fucked at the same time?
A: Four... no, five. There was a party on a friend's boat. Lots of coke and champagne.
Q: Damn. Sorry I missed that. Next time you have one of those little soirées, you let me know, all right?
A: Uh-huh.
Q: So, uh... have you ever thought about having sex with a guy?
A: No.
Q: Oh, come on, what's with the look. It's a perfectly straight-forward question, Shane. No fantasies? No 'well maybe just this one time'? You don't wonder about it at all?
A: No.
Q: So ... what's wrong with men? I mean, I know you've said you think they're violent, right?
A: Right.
Q: So is it the aggression that bothers you? Do you feel intimidated by that? By someone physically bigger trying to infiltrate your space? Is it because men are bigger, like you said?
A: I don't know, Mark.
Q: Look, just think about it, okay? I'm really curious to hear what you're thinking.
A: If a man looks at a woman like me, he doesn't see me as a woman. He sees me as a dyke.
Q: But that's what you are, right? You said it yourself. Aren't you proud of that?
A: I'm not proud of it any more than I'm proud of the fact my eyes are green. It's just a part of who I am.
Q: Okay, so – this hypothetical guy looks at you and sees a dyke. What else does he think?
A: He thinks I'm a freak.
Q: Okay... why?
A: Because he thinks I'm weaker than he is. Because I don't live my life the way he lives his. Because I'm a woman. Because I fuck women. Take your pick, man.
Q: Ahh, so... prejudice, then.
A: However you want to put it.
Q: But what if there was a guy who did see you as a woman – as a gay woman – and didn't think you were a freak, didn't think you were weaker or less of a person because of who you are? What about that guy?
A: Guys like that don't exist.
Q: Yeah, but what if they did? What if there was one guy out there like that?
A: I don't know.
Q: So, same hypothetical guy... the one who thinks you're a freak. Is he threatened by you?
A: Yes.
Q: Why?
A: Because I'm not something he understands.
Q: So is that why you're a lesbian, Shane? Because of a bad experience you had with a man?
A: Fuck, Mark, how many times do I have to tell you. No. No abuse, no trauma, nothing.
Q: Okay.
A: So many people assume that about lesbians. That we're just waiting for the right guy with a big enough dick to come along and fuck us into heterosexuality. It's not gonna happen. I was born this way. It's a part of my genetic makeup. It's why my hair is brown, why my eyes are green, and why I write with my right hand. Because that's who I am.
Q: Since you brought up DNA, Shane... let me ask you this question. Do you believe in God?
A: Sometimes.
Q: But not all the time?
A: No.
Q: Why? Because you think that when people look at you, they see a sinner?
A: How would they know what I've done? They don't even know me.
Q: No, I mean... because you're gay. If someone sees you walking down the street with a girl – or even just by yourself – they know you're gay. Do you think that when they look at you they think you're evil?
A: I don't know. Maybe. But that's such a fucking arcane way of being.
Q: Yeah, well, hatred is pretty arcane like that, I guess, huh?
A: Yeah.
Q: Do you ever wish you could look differently or act differently so you could walk around without getting hassled by straight people?
A: No.
Q: Really? Why not?
A: This isn't just an act. I don't dress the way I do or wear my hair the way I do because I want to look like a dyke. I dress the way I do and wear my hair as short as I do because I like it.
Q: 'Cause you're just that cool, huh? Hehe.
A: Heh. I guess so.
--
April 7, 2005 10:45am: Shane didn't sleep last night, again. Every time she'd start to nod off, she'd do another line. This is getting bad.
When I join her and Jenny for breakfast, Shane's practically nodding off in her cereal. Jenny literally catches her chin before it hits the bowl and knocks it into her lap. Shane snaps out of it and says she's fine. Jenny and I share a look. We both know it's bullshit, but neither of us can think of a thing to say to get her to stop.
Jenny plays nursemaid instead. She pulls Shane out of her chair and takes her to her bedroom.
I finish my breakfast and get back to my studio double-time.
Jenny's laying Shane down on her bed and taking off her sneakers, telling her that she'll call Veronica (boss) at work and tell her that she can't make it. Shane tries to say something, but she passes out before she has the chance to get a word out in response.
Jenny stands there, holding Shane's shoes, and she sighs.
I know how you feel, kid. Really, I do.
April 7, 9:00pm: Carmen shows up to pick up Jenny for their date. Jenny drops by the studio while I'm typing up some notes and says that she thinks she'll ask Carmen for a rain check, but I tell her to go and have some fun. That I'll look after Shane.
Lemme tell ya, hidden cameras are even better than a baby monitor to keep track of a drugged-up dyke who's worked herself into an emotionally exhausted quasi-coma.
Funny how, these days, when I say that word – 'dyke' – it doesn't feel like an insult, anymore. I mean, I never used it as one. But a lot of guys I know have and do. Jenny and Shane are rubbing off on me, I guess. Surrounded by positive feminine energy or some shit, maybe.
Maybe they should do something like this with all the macho testosterone assholes that Shane was talking about. Kinda like The Real World, only not shitty. Take several straight guys and put them in a house with an even number of lesbians. Now that would be good televis--
--
Mark spied movement out of the corner of his eye as he was writing out his shot log notes for the day. He glanced over and squinted at the monitors, rolling his trackball along to follow Shane's progress as she meandered aimlessly through the living room. Her hands were in her hair, clutching at it, as she paced.
Well, she was awake, finally, at least. After having slept for – he glanced at the clock on his taskbar – a good 20 hours.
“Fuck,” he cursed as he glanced over at his second monitor. He'd been using that monitor to keep track of the feed coming from Shane's bedroom. There was a large vial of coke sitting on its side on her nightstand and most of the contents were scattered in a powdery spray across the surface, faint impressions of her fingers left behind in white on the dark wood.
He was out the door before he'd even realized he knew he needed to move.
Finding the back door still unlocked, he sighed with relief as he yanked the door open and burst through it.
“Shane?” He called, trying to keep his tone even and calm. As if he'd just stopped by to have a chat. “Hey, Shane, are you here?”
“What?” She asked shortly, eyes narrowed as she came into view from the living room. Mark sighed, relieved.
“Hey,” he said, smiling. “How's it going?”
“Fine,” she shrugged and slowly started pacing.
“You sure?” Mark asked, watching her stalk around the entire living room before starting the circuit again. “You're lookin' a little, uhh... a little tweaked-out, there.”
“I'm fine,” Shane said, more firmly, eyes shooting a piercing look his way. She dragged her eyes away again, her hand reaching up to rub at the back of her neck.
“Can I get you anything? Hey, maybe we could order a pizza. I'm kinda hungry,” he suggested. “You've been out all day. Bet you're starving, huh?”
“No,” she said, hand squeezing the back of her neck, eyes pinching shut. She stopped and looked around the living room, brows furrowed, before looking over at him. “Where's Jenny?”
“She, uhh... she went out with Carmen,” Mark said quietly. “She told me that she wanted to let you sleep, but that she wasn't sure if she should go out, so I told her I'd check in on you every so often.”
Shane nodded, still massaging the back of her neck. “Good,” she murmured, mostly to herself, eyes directed elsewhere, gears almost visibly turning in her head. She lifted her head again and stared at him, hard, eyes narrowing into thin, green slits. “I think you need to go, now.”
“Why?” He asked, brows furrowing.
“You just need to go,” she said, tone dismissive and blunt. “I don't have to have a reason not to want you here.”
“Shane...” Mark took a deep breath and let it out in a weary sigh. “Why don't you trust me?”
“I'm not on camera, Mark,” Shane said, voice low and cool as she paced slowly back and forth. She looked up at him and her eyes were dark, hypnotic, and he could feel himself being lulled. “I don't have to answer you.”
“No, but I'd like it if you would, because I really would like to know.” Shane snorted. “I'm your roommate, you know? Yours and Jenny's. I live with you guys, I care about what's going on with you.”
A short, humorless laugh, eyes glinting like the edge of a razor blade. “The fuck, you do,” she said.
Exasperated, Mark raked a hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ, Shane – look at yourself! You're pacing around like a fucking animal in a zoo! What's going on with you, man? Talk to me! What are you on?”
“It's none of your fucking business,” Shane said. “Get out.”
“Shane --”
“I said get OUT!”
“All right,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine. Do whatever the hell you want. I'm outta here.”
Mark stomped out the back door and slammed it behind him hard enough to make the glass rattle, Shane flinching at the sound.
--
April 7, 2005 10:21pm: Shane's still pacing around the living room, as if she's waiting for something. Maybe she's waiting for Jenny to come back from her date with Carmen. Maybe she's hoping Jenny will have Carmen with her.
It's like she needs her fix, but it's not coke she's jonesing for. As much as it hurts her to see Carmen, she still wants to see her. Even if it's just a glance, it seems to be enough. Too much more than that, though, and it starts getting to her. And that's when she runs and hides. She can't take it.
Shane has gotta be one of the bravest people I know. And also one of the biggest cowards I know.
It kills me that she can't see the way Carmen looks at her. The way Jenny looks at her. The way I look at her. Whether she knows it or not, she's got us all in the palm of her hand and she can pet us or crush us any time she wants.
Maybe that's why she's so scared. Having that kind of power over people would scare the shit out of me, too.
April 7, 2005 11:36pm: They don't show. She finally goes back into her bedroom and passes out on the bed again.
Good. She needs the rest. We both do.
April 8, 2005 8:41am: When I show up for breakfast this morning, Shane looks like she's finally gotten her shit together. Sleeping for 35 hours is good for that.
No dark circles, no nervous fidgeting, no pot-shots at me (missing them already), and she actually eats a full plate of food. Is it too much for me to hope that she's managed to work all this out on her own? The girl's lost in her own head so much – even more than Jenny, sometimes – I wouldn't be surprised if she has.
Jenny's just as relieved as I am to see she's looking better. She gives Shane a kiss on the cheek and goes into her room to get ready for work. As she's passing me, she whispers to me and says that she doesn't know what happened between us last night, but to keep it up – it seems to be working.
So now I had some part in this? The hell?
I sit down at the kitchen table in Jenny's place and start eating. I can feel her watching me.
When I look up, she doesn't look away. Or try to pretend she's not staring. She knows I have her number so she's not even trying to hide it anymore. Good for her.
She clears her throat and finally looks away and – my hand to god – apologizes to me for the other night, saying she acted like an asshole. She says she's under a lot of stress at work and took it out on me because I showed up.
I play it off, all cool and magnanimous, and tell her not to worry about it. I take it too far, as usual, though, and she rolls her eyes at me. Looking as if she's sorry she even bothered.
I wish she didn't hate me so much.
--
FOLLOW-UP #3: Shane M. McCutcheon April 9, 2005 – 11:40am
Q: Hi, Shane.
A: Hello, Mark.
Q: How are you?
A: Fine.
Q: So you seem to be doing better. Everything okay?
A: Yeah. Everything's fine. Why?
Q: I don't know, a couple of nights ago you seemed a little out of it. That's all. You remember?
A: Yeah. Yeah, I remember.
Q: Yeah.
A: And, hey, you know... I'm sorry. About that.
Q: No, hey, it's cool. It's fine. The stress gets to ya. I know how that is. You should see me when I'm neck deep in my editing. Four or five days without a wink of sleep, sometimes.
A: Yeah.
Q: It's a bitch, but it's what I love, y'know?
A: Yeah.
Q: So, all right. I guess we'll... get started, then, okay?
A: Sure.
Q: Okay. Uhh... so... tell me, Shane, what do you do to get a girl to go home with you?
A: I already told you.
Q: No, you didn't. See, I'd remember it if you'd answered me, but you didn't. You asked me how I got girls, but you never said anything about you. Are you always so evasive?
A: When somebody's asking me something I don't want to answer? Uhh, yeah, Mark, I am.
Q: So, what is it, then? Tell me all about the McCutcheon M.O. and mojo.
A: What do you want to know, Mark?
Q: Well, okay... picture this. You're at a club, right? And you see this hot chick and you think, 'hey, she's pretty sweet. I might like to bang her.'
A: Ugh.
Q: No, seriously – bear with me, here. This is going somewhere. So you see this chick... how do you approach her? Or do you wait? Is that it? You play it off all bashful and cool? That works, too, sometimes.
A: So we're comparing notes, now?
Q: I'm just curious, Shane. Humor me.
A: Okay, fine. What does she look like?
Q: Uhh... I don't know. Does it matter?
A: Yes, it does. If I see a woman that I'm attracted to, there's usually a reason for it.
Q: Okay, um... okay, how about this. Long, dark hair. Nice tan. Kinda short, like you like 'em, right? Uhhh... hot. Hot is important. So, um... how would you go about getting that girl?
A: I might introduce myself. Sometimes they approach me, but not always. I appreciate that, though. Going up to a total stranger takes a lot of nerve.
Q: Right, 'cause there's always the chance you'll get shot down.
A: Right. So... I'll look at her hair, her clothes, her jewelry... her hands. Anything I can find to compliment her on, to get the conversation going. It's usually better if it's something personal.
Q: Like what?
A: It could be anything... a necklace that means something special to her, a ring, the perfume she's got on, a dress she just bought. Some women love to be complimented on their hair. I can always tell the ones that like that.
Q: Yeah? How?
A: They keep their hair trimmed and it's very healthy. Sometimes it's long, but it doesn't always have to be.
Q: Ohh, right! You do that for a living, right, so you know what to look for.
A: Yeah.
Q: Okay, so you pick the one thing and get the ball rolling, and then what...?
A: Depends on the mood I'm in. Sometimes I just want someone to fuck. Other times, we talk for a while. Shy girls need that. Someone to sort of coax them out of themselves. Get them talking.
Q: Do you like shy girls?
A: I don't mind them.
Q: Not your favorite, I guess? You prefer something a little more... spicy, sometimes, maybe?
A: Sometimes.
Q: Okay, so... shy is okay, spicy is better. What don't you like in a woman?
A: I just can't handle it when they get clingy, man. It's too much for me.
Q: Had a lot of those, I take it?
A: Some.
Q: So, you've got the girl and you're reelin' her in... how do you cinch the deal?
A: I just ask her if she wants to go somewhere.
Q: That's it?
A: That's it.
Q: Man. And that's all? No begging, no pleading, no nothing?
A: When a woman sleeps with me, she knows what she's getting. I tell her, up front, that I'm not looking for anything permanent. It cuts down on the chances of her turning up on my doorstep at 3AM.
Q: Whoa. Okay, so – sorry, I'm just trying to process all this. Having trouble computing it, here. So... you tell these girls this and... they don't care?
A: No.
Q: And they still let you take them home and fuck their brains out.
A: Yeah. Look, I already know where you're going with this. You're thinking that all women, whether they're gay or not, want a committed relationship no matter what. Right?
Q: Well... yeah! That's why they're chicks.
A: Sorry, man, but it's not true. It's just not. Women and men are totally equal as far as that's concerned. Sometimes they just wanna fuck somebody... or get fucked. Doesn't matter which. Just because it might be two women fucking each other doesn't change anything.
Q: Right. So, do you see any of these women again, afterwards?
A: Sure. I run into them all the time at the store, or Milk...
Q: No, no – I mean, do you sleep with them again after you've already slept with them once before?
A: Sometimes.
Q: So, how many times, then, would you say you're longest... I dunno... affair, fuckfest... flirtation, whatever... thing... lasted with a girl? Ball-park.
A: A few months.
Q: Really. I thought you said you weren't looking for anything permanent.
A: A few months isn't permanent.
Q: For most dykes it can turn into permanent, though, right? That happens. Right?
A: Some, but not all.
Q: Well, you are proving to be the exception to most of the rules, aren't you, Shane. So, with that girl, did you ever get the feeling that you wanted it to be permanent?
A: No. It didn't work out, anyway, so it doesn't matter, does it?
Q: No. No, I guess it doesn't. So I guess you've never been with anybody where you wanted her to stick around for longer than just a few months?
A: No...
Q: You sure?
A: Yeah.
Q: You kinda looked away, then. What are you thinking about?
A: Look, can we just drop it? Change the subject. Ask me another question.
Q: Okay. All right. No need to get testy. So... this whole thing, the way you pick up women... no offense or anything, but... it kinda sounds... sorta cold-blooded, to me.
A: Really.
Q: Yeah, I mean, I'm sorry if I sound like an asshole, here. I'm just trying to figure all this out, you know?
A: Yeah. But let me just ask you a question, for once. Why does the way I approach women seem cold-blooded to you, Mark? Because I'm a woman, myself? And women aren't supposed to think that way? Or act that way?
Q: I don't know.
A: Men do the same things, though, don't they. Find something to compliment a woman on, tell her she's pretty... all that. Why is it cold-blooded for me to do the exact same thing?
Q: I don't know. I'm just... I'm just kind of amazed, because... most guys do exactly what you described point for point and 9 times out of 10, they wind up getting their face slapped.
A: Because 9 out of those 10 men are too aggressive and too overconfident. They're so busy thinking about fucking the woman, they're too preoccupied to put any energy towards actually getting her home, first. So they say 'yeah' and 'uh-huh' and 'ohh, that's really interesting' but they don't bother to really listen.
Q: But you do?
A: Yes.
Q: Yeah, I remember you said that about women. That most of them just need someone to listen to them, right?
A: Yes.
Q: Do you think you're a good listener, Shane?
A: Yeah.
Q: So the listening is important. What else?
A: Well you don't stick your tongue down her throat the minute you get her home. That's a good start.
Q: Right. But you said there's different types of girls, right? So that might not always work.
A: But if you listen and pay attention to them for long enough, you know what they're like and what they want. They give you hints.
Q: Hints? Like... how? What do you mean?
A: Let's say I bring a woman home and... when I open the front door and walk into the house, she hangs back. What do you think that says about her?
Q: That she's... a vampire?
A: Oh, Jesus, Mark. No! Shy girls usually hesitate like that. But what if she comes in with me and she stays close?
Q: She ... she wants it?
A: It means that she's eager. Yes.
Q: Okay, so... what if she comes in with you and after you shut the door, she hesitates?
A: That means she's probably never done this before and she's nervous. Second-guessing herself.
Q: So you've done that before? Slept with straight girls? Or curious girls?
A: Yeah.
Q: How is it?
A: I try to make it good for them. You can't rush them, otherwise they'll freak and bolt.
Q: So how do you finesse that, then?
A: I make her want me so much that she forgets to be nervous and just does what her body's telling her to do.
Q: Okay... and how does that work?
A: I do everything I can to make them feel comfortable and safe and relaxed.
Q: And then they jump you? You jump them? What?
A: No.
Q: Aww, c'mon, what? Again with the look!
A: No. You can't do that. Some of them just aren't gonna be into it.
Q: So how do you get them to seduce you, then, if you're the one who's trying to get laid?
A: Just what I said. If they're nervous, I offer them a drink. Ask them if they want to listen to some music, try to get a conversation going.
Q: You turn on the charm to get 'em in the sack, but ... do you really mean any of it?
A: When I'm with them, I do. I don't ever want a woman to feel as if she doesn't have my complete and undivided attention. She wants someone to listen, to tell her she's beautiful, to tell her she's appreciated... and that's what I can give her. When she's with me, that's what I give her.
Q: So that's all? You just pay attention to her and listen? That's it?
A: Well, no. I'm pulling double duty because while I'm taking care of her, I also have to draw attention to myself.
Q: How? Like, how do you mean?
A: I know I'm attractive... they find something about me attractive. Doesn't matter what, it just depends on the woman.
Q: Like you were saying before. If you ... if you find a woman attractive, there's usually a reason.
A: Right. So if I see them staring at my body, I'll start moving around, let her look at me for a while... then, if I get the sense that she's ready to move on to the next step, I'll take my shirt off, or my pants... whatever it is that she's staring at, I'll uncover it so she can see what she wants.
Q: Wow. That's fuckin' bold. So you're kinda movin' things along and she doesn't even realize it, I guess?
A: Not usually, no.
Q: So you get 'em into bed. What do you like, usually? What are you into?
A: No kink.
Q: No?
A: No. Absolutely not. I've never been into kink. Never done it. Not even when I was tricking.
Q: Really. Wow. So... no whips, chains... none of that shit?
A: No.
Q: Aww, you're no fun. I had this great mental image of you tying some girl to a bed and you had to go and ruin it.
A: Sorry to fuck up your masturbation fantasy, man.
Q: Uh-huh. So you're really not into any of that? At all? Nothing?
A: No. I don't need it. That's why a fetish is a fetish: you have to have it in order to get off. I don't need anything like that.
Q: Right. But I'd say you have a fetish for women, right?
A: I love women. There's a difference.
Q: So... okay. See, I don't know if this is a – okay, I'll just... I guess I'll just ask. So why women? I know I've asked you this before, but ... I mean, isn't it kinda like fucking yourself? You've both got all the same parts, and you know what everything does... doesn't that take the mystery out of it? The excitement?
A: No. We may have bodies in common, but every woman is an individual. She's got something about her that no other woman has and it's unique to just that one.
Q: So it's their personalities that keep it exciting, then?
A: Yeah, I guess you could say that.
--
Shot Log – March 20 thru April 22 – 25 bullet cameras, 1 mini-DV, 1 fish-eye.
April 9, 2005 00:12:25:00-00:1:19:00: After our interview, Shane leaves for a gig at the local news station. She's gone for the rest of the day and Jenny's at work, so I have time to install the fish-eye camera just behind the alarm clock sitting on her nightstand. I tuck the small cable behind the clock and the effect is perfect. No chance in hell she'll see it.
She must have stopped at Milk or the Planet on the way home, because when she comes in, she has a girl with her.
This one has long, straight hair, as dark as Shane's, down to her waist. She's petite and voluptuous and has a dark tan. Shane seems to prefer women that are a bit more full-figured than she is. Or maybe it's just that she's so damn skinny from all the coke and fucking like a rabid bunny rabbit that every girl she picks up is bound to weigh more than she does herself. I'll have to remember to ask her about that.
Watching them come in, I see the girl hangs back at the door as Shane walks in. Ahh, so she's nervous. Shane gently takes her hand and leads her into the bedroom.
When she shuts the door after them, I switch over to the bedside cam. The girl looks around as Shane takes off her jacket and tosses it on the bed – not that there's much to see. Shane doesn't have much furniture in there apart from her bed, the night table, the lamp and her stereo, and that's sitting on a small bench built into the wall beneath the window.
Shane stretches her long body and it's like deja vu... she's doing exactly what she told me she does with women, practically word for freaking word. She crosses over to the stereo in that loose-limbed saunter of hers and turns to her, asking her if she wants to hear anything in particular. The girl shrugs and smiles. Whoa, is this girl nervous. Not like I can blame her.
Shane smiles at her, calm and kinda reassuring, and puts a cd in and it starts playing. I turn the volume up on my own speakers so I can listen. Something slow and sexy (of course), a woman singing in a weird Bjork-style accent. She turns back around and crooks a finger at the girl – who's still huddled by the bedroom door – for her to come closer.
Now this she never mentioned, and I'm almost sorry that she didn't. Guess it kinda figures, though, if there's music like this playing that they'd dance... but... it's not dancing so much as it is fucking standing up. You know the kind. The girl moves closer, even though the look on her face makes me think she might take off any moment, but Shane keeps her cool.
She slides an arm around the girls waist and pulls her in until they're pressed up against each other. She slips her left leg between the girl's thighs, bringing their bodies even closer together and both of her hands run down the girl's bare back, stopping just short of her ass. She's holding back – doesn't want to frighten this one off.
Which is a good idea, 'cause this girl's pretty damn hot. She's wearing a light-colored halter top that shows off all her assets in front and a short skirt that does the same for the rest of her.
I should have known that Shane would be able to dance, but it was always hard to picture her actually doing it. I mean, I've seen her fuck dozens of women on my monitor – so I guess it's like what they say: the way somebody dances is like the way they fuck... only this is ass-backwards and in reverse, kinda. Her movements are graceful and smooth, hips drifting slowly to one side and then back in the opposite direction, her upper body moving fluidly along with the rest of her, shoulders moving in perfect time to her hips and the beat.
Like I said... not exactly dancing... but it's working on me, all the same. And, it's working on the girl, too, apparently, because she places her hands on Shane's shoulders, eyes staring down at Shane's chest for a moment before she looks up at Shane. And I'm shaking my head. Shane was right. Right down to that one thing. Damn.
Shane moves in for the kill... but slowly. Her hands stay right where they are, at the small of the girl's back, and she leans in and kisses her. Whew. It's getting a little warm in here.
Shane backs her slowly over to the door out of the nightstand cam's range. I quick switch over to the camera I've hidden behind an antique camera (I just couldn't resist the ironic placement) sitting on the bookshelf beyond Shane's bed so I can get a look at what's going on by the door.
Shane's got her backed up against the door and they're still grinding against each other in time with the music. But their rhythm's starting to slip a little. Shane pulls her hands away from the girl's back and pulls open her own white shirt (it has snaps all down the front rather than buttons – huh, handy) and tugs her arms out of the sleeves. The girl helps her, but they don't stop kissing.
Damn. She doesn't miss anything. I'm sitting there, watching her work, and I wanna smack myself. I just can't get over it. She's a fucking goddess – an absolute goddamn genius at this.
Shane tugs the girl's skirt up enough so that she can fit her hand between the girl's legs and (surprising me and Shane, both, I think) this 'shy' chick lifts her leg up and hooks it around Shane's waist and then her right one as well. And as smooth as you please, Shane's holding her up, pressing her up against the door.
She manages to untie the girl's halter (one handed – such a fucking pro) and pull it down to reveal her breasts. Not too big, not too small. Pretty sure they're probably fake, though – every chick in LA has fake tits. Well, except Shane. Maybe Jenny.
And her hand finds its way down between the girl's legs again. The girl's head goes back and Shane starts fucking her, face buried in the girl's neck. From the back, I swear, it looks like a guy fucking a girl. That's how confusing Shane's looks are. But then I see her breasts crushed against the girl's – pale pale halogen-white skin on my monitor against the girl's tan.
Shane works her hard, but slow, keeping time with the music. She's set the song on repeat, so they could keep this up all night, if they feel like it. Shane leans back a bit, shakes her hair out of her eyes and kisses her like she's 150 proof liquor and Shane's looking to get drunk.
She tilts her head to one side, putting herself in profile again, and I see the gleam of saliva on her tongue in the dim light as it slides into the girl's mouth. I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I've seen Shane fuck so many girls in just a couple of weeks living here, but it never got me hard. This does, though.
She fucks her hard, but seems as if she's being really gentle at the same time, as funny as that might sound. She's careful and... she's taking her time, making sure she enjoys it. I see the white of her left hand, fingers spread, flattening out on the door just above and to the left of the girl's head. The only thing holding the girl up, now, is her legs still wrapped tight around Shane's waist and Shane's chest pressed against hers.
The girl's moaning really loudly, by now, and Shane's picked up the pace. It's obvious the girl's getting close. Shane kisses her again, hard – probably to shut her up, so all her wailing doesn't wake up Jenny – and she's fucking this girl with her entire body. Every muscle is straining... her back, her shoulders, her biceps, even her forearm as she works her fingers in and out.
Shane's not even trying to keep in time with the tempo anymore... hard, quick thrusts and the girl is shaking, her hands clenching in Shane's hair as she comes. Shane presses her forehead against the girl's as she wrings every last shudder and whimper out of her, like water from a wet rag. She's merciless but so, so gentle.
The girl lowers her right leg and then her left, settling back onto her own two feet, but Shane's there, pressing her up against the door again, hands sliding lightly over her ribcage as she kisses her.
I quickly transfer the footage from the bookshelf cam over to my second monitor so I can replay it. On the live monitor, Shane's smoothing the girl's skirt back down into place and ties her halter back up for her.
My eyes dart over to the start of the recorded feed and I work the buckle on my belt open, fingers unzipping my fly as I watch Shane lead the brunette into her bedroom. Instant replay.
She's just a girl... a very gay, gay girl... how the fuck is she doing this to me?
Later, after the girl is long gone and Shane and I are both in bed, I'm dreaming. There's nothing but this black, negative space. Emptiness. Cold and dark and lonely.
And then I see my monitor appear in this dead, empty space... her face, on my monitor... she's alone, just like me. Laying back on her bed, propping her head up with one arm. She turns her head, looks straight into the camera and smiles... and I know she's smiling at me.
She's my muse... she's my nightmare... she's everything I've ever wanted and I can't have her...