“And I like girls who do things like wear mascara and lipstick.”
“I know your partner, Twyla, you both were at my house for Bubba’s barbeque spareribs three weeks ago,” Krys returned.
“Right so, I like girls. And I’ve liked ‘em all my life. I was a marine. I’ve shot a gun. I own five of them, guns that is. I watch the Nuggets, Avs, Broncos and Rockies. I’ve never in my life worn a skirt. I wear a sports bra because with these babies,” she circled her bosoms with a pointed finger before dropping her hand to the checkout desk, “I got no choice. God saw fit to grant me an A cup, no way. Since I’m a C, I’m f**ked. I have never worn mascara. I do not own a blow dryer. And I get off on goin’ down on chicks. Now which one, you or me, has more in common with Chace Keaton?”
I had to admit, she had a point there.
Krystal had to admit it too, even though I could tell she didn’t want to. I could tell because she opened her mouth and closed it.
Twyla looked at me.”Throw yourself at him.”
Krystal closed her eyes, dropped her head to look at her boots and her honeyed locks fell forward to hide her face.
I whispered to Twyla, “I kinda already tried that.”
Krystal’s head shot up as Twyla’s eyebrows did the same.
“No go?” Twyla asked.
“He, uh… shuts it down or, um… redirects it but um… mostly shuts it down and concentrates on kissing.”
“He know you’re a virgin?” Twyla asked.
“Um…” I answered, not knowing until then that Twyla knew I was a virgin.
“How much neckin’ you do?” Twyla requested details when I was unable to go on.
“I have little experience but it feels like, on a scale of one to ten, one hundred and fifteen.”
Krystal grinned.
Twyla kept up her interrogation. “So, you had little experience before him?”
I nodded.
“On a scale of one to ten, how much experience did you have?” Twyla pushed.
“Point two five,” I replied quietly.
“He knows you’re a virgin,” Twyla muttered and my heart jumped, not pleasantly.
Krystal punched her in the arm. “Now you’re freaking Faye out.”
“Uh, just to be clear, the ‘throw yourself at him’ bit already freaked me out,” I shared.
“So what’s on tonight?” Twyla asked, ignoring my share.
“Dinner at his place, the first time I’ve been there,” I told her.
“Bring panties and a toothbrush. Then find a way to tell him you brought panties and a toothbrush.” She suddenly clapped, I jumped and she finished, “Done.”
“Oh my God, that’s actually a good idea,” Krystal whispered and Twyla’s eyebrows shot up again, this time in affront.
“You think I walked five blocks in the Colorado Mountain March cold for no reason?” Twyla queried. “I’m a lesbian who can jack most motherfuckers up. I know non-lesbians who can do the same. You bein’ one of ‘em, I might add, though you do it with a shotgun in your hand. Same freakin’ thing. But bein’ a lesbian don’t make me not good at advice.”
I made mental note of this and added Twyla to my phone tree for when I experienced a relationship emergency.
“I didn’t say that you weren’t,” Krystal retorted.