Chapter Nine — Skateboard
Miguel and Frankie pick up rehearsals that same week. They dance until the sun sets and go home all sweaty and tired. Weeks pass and the divided girls hardly ever see each other. The first week, Noor’s occupied with public events and a new merchandising launch. Then, Aiden asks his wife to join him during a movie project in Northern Europe and her therapist kind of suggests that it’s a good idea. They survive their separation thanks to late night FaceTiming. Still, they feel lonely, like a piece of them is missing. Miguel cheers his best friend up as good as he can, while Kennedy blurs her mind during the nights. Frankie acts as if she doesn’t mind being apart from Noor that much. Everyone knows she’s lying.
The dancers all gather soon enough to prepare for the West Coast tour. Four weeks away from home. Four weeks in hotel rooms and rehearsals on stage. Frankie is looking forward to it. Noor will be all hers again, for as long as it lasts. She’ll be able to stare at her shamelessly and steal a sneaky smile, or knock on Noor’s door late at night and fall asleep after talking for hours. It’ll all be okay again. And at the same time: it won’t. Not even close. She knows it’s her heart that’ll be broken in the end. But she’s willing to risk it anyway.
Frankie sighs while staring at the ceiling. All the boxes and electrical wires floating above her head continue to scare her. One miscalculation, one defect and it could all fall down on her little head. Sweat is dripping down her forehead. Rehearsal’s been exhilaratingly exhausting. She loves days like these. She loves the adrenaline that flows through her veins and pumps her heartbeat. Miguel taps her shoulder and calls it a day. He’s panting as he smiles. Yeah, he loves this hard work just as much. Frankie smirks and watches him leave with Cameron, the cute bisexual dancer that’s been there from the start. It took Miguel exactly three days before he discovered that sexually fluid piece of ass. Frankie was disappointed, she thought it’d take him three hours.
“I’ll see you tonight, okay? Big plans for you,” Miguel shouts from a distance. “Big plans!”
Cameron grabs his sleeve to drag him along as Frankie scrunches her nose and nods. She knows Miguel’s version of big plans: getting monumentally fucked up at the local bar. She turns around and heaves an exhausted sigh. She hasn’t heard from Noor since last night, though she wishes she did. If there’s anyone Frankie desired to be here today, it’d be Noor and Noor alone. But she isn’t. And that saddens her in ways that it shouldn’t. Because Noor has obligations. She has a husband and a career. She ought to do things that don’t concern her background dancer. She’s a superstar, for God’s sake. Frankie’s nothing but a silly girl from a small town. Their realities are worlds apart. But still … if only she were here.
One final swirl and Frankie turns to face the back of the stage. The presence of a silent figure surprises her. It’s already dark in the arena. All the technicians and dancers have disappeared. The lights faded out a minute ago. When a smile lights up the curtains, her heart starts to beat faster.
That voice. It fills the entire atmosphere. It’s Noor. One little word, spoken in silence from a distance and Frankie’s about to have a heart attack.
“What are you doing here?” she gasps.
The singer walks over to her, looking stunning as ever. Her eyes are sparkly, her face all radiant and relaxed. Maybe because she’s so happy to see her beloved friend again.
“I came back for you. I needed to tell you something.”
Frankie’s flabbergasted expression just won’t go away. She just stands there in awe, wondering if this is a dream. But the second Noor reaches for her hand and touches her sweaty skin, the dream turns into reality.
“Tell me what?”
Noor wraps both arms around the muscled body of her favorite dancer and inhales the scent of the blond hairs. She presses them close together and reminds herself to speak before the satisfaction of seeing her best friend again completely dazzles her.
“Happy birthday to you,” she starts to sing in a soft voice. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Frankie.”
Her eyes shoot up and down that sweaty body and the most radiant smile takes over her entire face. She reshapes the classic into a cute rendition and it might be the most gorgeous birthday song ever. Her voice is enchanting, the tone of it, the sound of it, the way it carries entire conversations and mixes them with emotions.
“Happy birthday to you.”
Blue eyes are tearing up. And a breath falters in Frankie’s throat.
“You remembered my birthday?”
Noor won’t let go of her. She keeps her arms tightly around the body she’s holding and turns her mouth until it’s an inch away from Frankie’s cheek. She could kiss her right now and it’d feel amazing. But something stops her.
“I remember everything about you,” she admits.
The girls both blush and part before an unexpected desire takes over their entire way of interacting. Frankie flashes her charming smile and decides to smack herself in the face later for the amount of emotions that take over her mind, simply because Noor came all the way from Europe to see her today.
“Where’s my present, Superstar?” she teases to snap out of it.
Noor winks and twirls around in a perfect circle to ultimately point at herself. She’s pretty damn proud about it as well, so it seems.
“I got you a whole day with me,” she explains while joy strengthens her voice. “No strings attached. Take me wherever you want to take me. Talk to me for hours or shut up without it being awkward. Show me a part of your life I haven’t seen yet and I’ll love it, I’m sure.”
Frankie can’t stop herself from grasping onto the dancer’s hand. Their touch feels predestinated, like they don’t have a choice but give in to the inevitable. Noor lets her.
“Will you?” she wonders.
Noor runs some fingers through the front of Frankie’s hair and nods. Her face is still and calm, her eyes all dreamy. She has missed this person more than she anticipated — and she was prepared for the worst. Her hand stays there, lovingly cupping Frankie’s cheek.
“I love everything about you.”
Frankie gets a hold of the arm reaching out to her face. She feels the soft skin that looks darker than hers. She catches the enchanted eyes staring at her. There are butterflies in her tummy and her mind’s all foggy. Because Noor just used the word love to describe something about her. It felt good.
“What are you doing?” Frankie whispers with the aching desire to figure out what’s going on.
Noor heaves a troubled sigh and shakes her head all dazzled, like she has no clue. Her body steps closer. Too close.
“I missed you. I missed you so much that … Let’s just put it this way: as the ultimate birthday present, I’ll let you do to me whatever it is you’re thinking about.”
It’s shameless dead-honest flirting. A result of having spent time apart. A result of missing each other and wanting to be back together. Frankie swallows hard and her friend notices. Noor secretly loves it when her words leave Frankie speechless. It rarely happens. Usually, Frankie has some great comebacks.
The girls get changed into some comfortable sweatpants — at Frankie’s request — and drive to the old neighborhood where Frankie grew up. They take the dancer’s old, noisy car to cross the roads in anonymity. It’s still driving, nobody ever expected that. The blonde stops at her house for a few minutes to gather some stuff, including the bracelet Noor once bought her. Afterward, she takes them to the entrance of the old public pool that’s been empty and abandoned for years now. Noor wonders why the hell they are at such a place. Nobody’s around, not a single person. A wandering cat looks at them suspiciously.
“Ten years ago, my friends and I celebrated my birthday at this exact spot. We broke through the fences and dove right in. It was cold and horrible, but awesome at the same time, you know? Cops came to find us but we ran away. It was epic.”
Noor clenches her teeth and her heart skips a beat the second she hears about the adventure.
“Wow. That sounds like a thing I’d never do. I can’t, exactly, with the kind of life I’m having.”
Frankie’s fingers push the old, shaky fence that’s keeping them out of the property and it bends backwards just enough for them to sneak through a gap of the metal wires. Noor’s eyes grow wider and suddenly, she’s feeling nervous. Is this breaking and entering? Could she get arrested for this?
“Relax,” Frankie tells her with a cute, ridiculing smile. “Everyone does this all the time. The cops don’t even mind anymore.”
First, the bag she’s holding gets pushed through. She then crawls through the small gap and offers a hand to help Noor out once she reaches the other side. The singer follows after a hesitant gasp for air. A bit of dirt has caught on to Noor’s designer sweatpants and Frankie smirks. This girl might have never been this dirty before. One small swipe of her lean fingers makes it all okay, though, and Noor’s thankful. She puts her hand in Frankie’s and lets herself be led toward the main, open-air pool that used to be the root of happiness for thousands of children and grown ups. It’s dirty and deserted now. The wilderness of nature has taken over the old building and the two deep tubs. A statue that used to be a fountain is reformed into a growing pole for ivy. Secretly, Frankie thinks this place looks beautiful. It’s nature’s way of taking back what humanity took from her. And it’s glorious.
“You just do what you did ten years ago? Is this like a —”
Noor kicks a fallen branch in front of her feet and briefly absorbs the peaceful state of this premises.
Frankie lets go of her hand, which saddens the singer more than it should and walks toward the deepest tub. She drops the bag she’s holding and descends the ladder like she’s done it a million times before. Noor wonders if she did.
After reaching the once white bottom, Frankie dusts off her shirt and looks up all content.
“It is. Each year, I go back ten years in my life and reenact one of my memories. It reminds me of how lucky I am. How happy I should be that I have birthdays, while others just …”
She won’t say it, not on her birthday. It might jinx her good luck charm. Noor understands. She bravely lowers herself to the bottom as well and points at the bag once she’s face to face with Frankie.
“What’s in your stupid, old, cheap bag?”
Her best friend smiles ridiculously cute and doesn’t mind the offensive way of speaking. Noor’s just teasing. Not everyone has a Channel bag to take to the gym. The dancer unzips the worn black zipper and reveals her treasure. A skateboard, some wireless boxes and a bottle of vodka, wrapped in a towel so it wouldn’t break.
“How do you know exactly what you did ten years ago?” Noor skeptically wonders.
She hardly remembers what she had for lunch yesterday. Her friend flashes one of her enchanting smiles and shrugs.
“When in doubt, I make up stuff.”
After some persuading, the spoiled, risk-free superstar makes an attempt to cross her own boundaries. They end up having the times of their lives, skating across the bottom of the pool, bumping into branches and shrieking each time they spot a cockroach. Frankie takes Noor’s hand as the unbalanced board underneath her feet takes her from one spot to another. The girls take turns at sipping from the bottle of vodka and pulling weird faces once the bitterness reaches their tastebuds. They start dancing to the beat of the small boxes and the second Frankie pulls back from being too close to the human sized magnet, Noor tells her to act normal and just dance with her. Frankie hasn’t felt this alive in months. This carefree and young — ironically on the day she’s getting older. The fact that this incredible person is sharing the moment with her makes it all more special. She couldn’t have dreamt of a happier birthday. Her sisters send her some texts, her mom and dad congratulated her over the phone, grandpa and grandma who live on the other side of the state even used the internet to give her their best wishes. But Noor flew all the way from Europe, just to see her at rehearsals. Nobody ever did that for her. She looks at her and her heart starts pumping harder and more intense. They are out on their own and having fun. She sees her laughing over a silly thing like a skateboard and realizes she’ll never have as much fun as she’s having right now. Because Noor makes her feel special and extraordinary. That’s when it hits Frankie — that’s when she realizes she loves her. She adores her. She worships her. She desires her. There’ll never be another.
The dancer snaps out of her enchantment when Noor jumps on her back, deafening the place with childish laughter. Their clothes are dirty and dusty, their hair’s a mess, but the girls don’t care. Noor’s lips softly press a kiss against Frankie’s cheek and the dancer warms up inside.
“I want a picture of us,” Noor tells her.
“Because I need a reminder of this moment. I’ve never been so happy. This is the happiest I’ve ever felt and I want to capture it. I want to remember this moment forever and stare at that picture once in a while in case I forget how it feels like. It’ll forever be my favorite.”
Noor’s words mirror Frankie’s emotions about today. Night is falling, it’s getting colder and scarier, but neither of them wants to go home yet. Frankie digs into her pocket and finds her phone. While Noor’s still on top of her, the girls take a selfie. And another one. And another one. After that, Noor’s feet touch the ground again and the heat of her body has left Frankie’s.
“That one’s cute.”
The singer’s tanned finger slide over the screen and her radiant smile appears. Frankie isn’t looking at the picture anymore. She gets caught, but it results in meaningful staring. A minute passes before Noor slowly bends forward and their lips fragilely touch. The blonde smiles underneath it. Ultimate birthday gift. When they part from the sweet expression of affection, Noor closes her eyes while putting their foreheads together.
“I don’t understand how everything can be so different, all of a sudden. One day, I was just this normal, famous singer …”
She pauses once she finds her friend giggling over her words.
“You did just hear what you said, right?”
Noor chuckles and nudges Frankie’s head with hers. Their fingers entwine. Nightfall is all around them and for a second, they might be the only two people left on earth.
“And then I met you and suddenly my marriage is confusing and my thrilling life seems boring whenever you’re not around. It was so easy until I fell …”
But the singer stops herself. She cannot say the words. Not yet. Maybe they aren’t even true. Because where does their friendship end and the feelings she shouldn’t be feeling start? Where does Aiden fit in all of this? How can she gamble with a sacred thing called marriage for a girl she met a few months ago?
Frankie heard the words she didn’t say and sighs after understanding the reasons. She steps back and smiles, because it’s the only thing she can do right now. She has no right meddling into her friend’s relationship. She has no share in the debate of Noor’s feelings and decisions.
“We should go. Though we shouldn’t be driving anymore because we each had like, a half a bottle of vodka.”
Noor giggles and thinks that’s smart. When her laugh fades out, a text disturbs the peaceful sounds of nature. It’s from Kennedy. Frankie doesn’t try to hide the words from Noor’s sight.
‘Good night, birthday girl. Kisses to my special one.’
Frankie can’t refrain from smiling like a dork and the singer notices. Somehow, a nagging feeling inside her tummy reveals a spark of jealousy.
“Kennedy. She’s your princess, isn’t she?”
The dancer looks up and thinks — for once — before answering that question.
“She’s a princess for sure. But I’m looking for a queen. I want to build a kingdom.”
It sounds heroic and poetic and Noor likes that. Kennedy’s not Frankie’s one true love. It pleases her to lengths that aren’t measurable.
“So you’re not in love with her?”
The rich girl dusts off her pants and moves her hands to the back of Frankie’s shirt once she’s done. The muscles underneath the fabric immediately heat her up. Frankie has such a nice body from all those years of dancing. She felt it up once, in her own guest room. She kissed the skin of her long neck and caressed the boobs that felt like perfection. Those memories invade her mind day and night. She dreams about it, about Frankie. Her lips, the way her fingers made her feel ecstatic.
“I don’t want to — I mean. I don’t believe in true love, I guess,” Frankie suddenly reveals.
But reality has escaped once Noor started focussing too much on Frankie’s back and the desirable spot on her shoulder that’s there to kiss. She wants to kiss it. She should.
“I could change your mind,” she ultimately whispers, caught in her own little dimension.
Frankie turns around and frowns, not sure if she just heard right: “What?”
But Noor’s just as surprised about her own comment and immediately pulls a straight face.
“What?” she asks herself.
Overwhelmed by her own feelings, so it seems. Frankie just smiles and caresses the soft skin of her face.
“Come on. Let’s call a cab. Heading home? My place? It’s the closest.”
As Noor is watching Frankie head up the small ladder, she averts her eyes to face the stars above them. Her breath is starting to turn into little clouds. There must be a way to stop this day from ending? A way that the paparazzi can’t catch them being too close. Too public.
“Let’s go to a hotel room,” she suddenly suggests.
Noor just shrugs and finds the confused and nervous eyes of her friend staring down on her.
“For old times sake.”
“Maybe things never work out with men because you haven’t tried it with a girl yet.”
Frankie hears the words that came out of her mouth and suddenly puts both hands in front of it.
“Oh, God. What am I doing? I am using the same stereotype people have been throwing at me for ages.”
But Noor is amused as she witnessed the self-loathing of the girl in front of her. They’ve been talking for a while now, while the television’s on. Frankie’s favorite thing to do. Noor just went on and on about her failed relationships and the disappointment about her marriage. The dancer stopped herself from thinking again when she spoke up.
“Then why do you say it?” Noor asks, while patting the bare leg positioned next to her.
“Because I’m desperate and I want it to be true,” Frankie charmingly admits.
It makes Noor’s heart race and that feels so good. They are seriously buzzed by now. That bottle of vodka is long gone, but so are the countless cocktails they had room service send up. Noor picked out a quiet, fancy hotel nearby and a taxi took them there. She bought Frankie a stuffed animal in a nearby 24/7 shop. She also bought the little purple guitar she’s playing with. It doesn’t sound too bad. But nothing ever does, when that musical masterpiece is directing the tone.
“It’s that time of the week where you get emotional and sad and all you want to do is get drunk and sing ridiculously depressing love songs,” the singer suddenly says.
Frankie looks up and smiles: “It’s worse for me. I just got a whole year older.”
Noor thinks it’s a valid argument. They have stripped down to their panties and shirts. Their sweatpants are too dirty to keep on, especially in bed. Room service will bring them new clothes in the morning — special treatment for a superstar. Frankie can’t seem to get used to all of it. The careless behavior of the entourage as if everything comes natural. The pressure of the media and paparazzi. The countless people weaving a web of press releases and statements around her — or world tours and photoshoots. The way Noor’s phone buzzes every other second with a new scheduled meeting. How does a simple girl at a concert food truck fit into it? Into the whole of a Noor universe?
“What made you talk to me?”
Noor looks up and releases the strings of the purple guitar. She was quietly singing to herself. A tryout. Something that just sprouted in her mind.
“When we met. What made you talk to me? You’re a superstar. You didn’t want anyone to recognize you and yet, you talked to me.”
Noor remembers that life-changing event as if it just took place. She smiles.
“You were cute. You were fidgeting the entire time, looking mad and worked up. You made that comment about killing someone and I just had to talk to you. So I did.”
But Frankie doesn’t understand.
Noor ruffles through her long, dark hair and shrugs. She can write the most amazing and detailed lyrics in the music business, but something about describing Frankie is out of her league.
“I don’t know. I just felt, like, a really strong connection, I think. I can’t put a name to it. I can’t describe it, thought I want to. It’s something I’d write a song about one day if it wasn’t about you.”
Frankie smiles and frowns a brief moment.
“Why don’t you write a song about me?” she wonders, with a radiant, flirting smile taking over her face.
Noor looks up to her and remains quiet for a second. She remembers the first time she heard a song and thought to herself: music should sound like this. The first time her heart skipped a beat over the lyrics and the chorus and the way a voice should captivate an audience. She remembers the goosebumps on her arms and the shivers that ran up and down her spine. She was eight when that happened. It only happens once in a while now, that magical captivation — that inevitable connection with music. It sneaks up on her, surprises her as a flash of lightening. Her eyes wander to a corner of Frankie’s lips and travel up to her piercing blue eyes, while the lean fingers continue to strike some cords on the guitar. It sounds slow and sad and emotional at the same time.
“You know why I can’t write a song about you.”
Frankie clears her throat to come to her senses. Twice — Noor has talked and not-talked about her feelings for her twice today. She bends forward to wrap her long arms around the singer’s body and presses the guitar deep into her stomach. Then her soft lips press a loving kiss against Noor’s temple. The girl smells amazing. Like vanilla flowers and cinnamon rolls.
“Now excuse me,” Frankie announces while pulling back, “I’m going to sleep on the couch tonight.”
It’s in the other part of the hotel room. Something tells her it’s the safest choice for today. Sure, Noor literally gave her permission to do whatever it is she wanted on this special occasion, but even a drunk Frankie knows that’s not a good idea. The dancer stretches for a second before walking toward the end of room, but suddenly turns around abruptly, making Noor look up in a confused way.
“No, you know what? You go sleep on the couch.”
Noor gasps a ridiculing laugh: “What?”
“You heard me.”
Frankie crosses her arms and awaits the reaction. The room is foggy and blurry, but that’s probably the alcohol talking.
Noor frowns all offended and shakes her head with disbelief: “But I’m a superstar.”
“You’re also a pain in the ass,” Frankie says. “Plus, it’s my birthday. Couch!”
Her fingers point at the wall that’s dividing this hotel penthouse. There’s a nice, big couch situated behind it. Noor is a little smaller than her, so she should fit just fine on it. Of course, that spoiled little brat is pouting by now, because she’s not getting what she wants.
“How can you be so mean to me? I’m so hot!” she groans as she’s getting on her hands and knees.
She crawls over to the side of the bed as her butt points highly in the air. Her hair is falling down her shoulders all nonchalantly and it looks sexy as hell. Fuck that, everything about her looks sexy as hell. That shirt draping her torso, her bare legs sliding across the white sheets, her dark eyes searching for compassion and a break in Frankie’s resistance. The dancer sighs and is close to accepting defeat. She thinks Noor’s right: she is so hot. But being humble or modest isn’t one of her characteristics.
“Do you know how selfish and rude you sometimes are? Like, are you aware that you’re doing it?”
Noor giggles over the comment and determinately nods: “Yes.”
“So you do it on purpose?”
Frankie walks over to the bed again and allows Noor to sit up on her knees and wrap her arms around her body.
“I feel like when I’m more awesome than the person I’m talking too, I’m allowed to let him or her know,” the singer informs her.
She’s obviously drunk, that much is sure. In fact, there’s another Cosmopolitan waiting for her on the night stand and Noor’s determined to finish it by midnight.
Frankie bends a little bit into her and scrunches her eyebrows: “You sassy little piece of shit.”
“See,” the dark haired goddess replies with confidence, “you got the hang of it.”
She pulls her closer and kisses her on the lips. Too soft to lead to more, but also too meaningful to let go immediately. Frankie stores the touch of the kiss as a memory. She inhales Noor’s scent and the way her arms hold onto her tightly.
“You’re such a good friend,” Noor whispers close to her mouth when they part. “Whenever he’s being an asshole, you just — rise above and make me wonder why I’m not married to you.”
Frankie’s heart is racing like crazy by now. She can picture herself being married to this beauty. Except she isn’t. And she probably never will be.
“You always say that when you’re drunk.”
Noor leans back so she can properly stare into Frankie’s blue, tired eyes. She thinks she’s the most gorgeous girl she’s ever met.
“Drunk or sober — it doesn’t matter,” she explains fragilely honest . “It’s always you.”
If only she would’ve just jumped on that couch. Frankie wouldn’t be dreaming about a future with her best friend right now. She wouldn’t be in her embrace, fantasizing about having hot, sweaty sex with her.
“Listen to us, being all sentimental and emotional,” she smiles to clear the tension.
Noor smirks and looks at her all drowsy.
“I know, it’s gross,” she whispers before exhaling all cute. “Kiss me.”
Frankie quickly pecks her on the lips and steps back as soon as it’s over.
“I’m going to brush my teeth and wash up. By the time I get back here, you better be out of that bed.”
Noor taps her head as if she’s saluting her commanding officer and winks. The dancer rolls her eyes and disappears in the next door section of the hotel room. She puts toothpaste on her brush and starts thinking while looking in the mirror. The circling movements of her hand bring enough familiarity to the moment to make her come back to her senses. It was the best birthday ever, sure. But tomorrow, Noor’s going back to Aiden, which isn’t weird or manipulative or unjustified at all, because: they’re married. But it saddens her so much. It makes her jealous and sick to her stomach. A noise makes her look up to find a dizzy Noor next to her, holding on to her cocktail. The girl takes a chance and slides past the toothbrushing Frankie to block her reflection in the mirror. She sure did get out of that bed, except she missed the route to the couch and found Frankie instead. She puts down the drink. Her sneaky hands grasp onto the loose shirt hanging down Frankie’s shoulders and she sighs, looking all guilty and tensed.
“I need to tell you something. Something you’ll hate,” she admits.
“What is it?” Frankie asks with her mouth full of white stuff.
Noor can’t look her in the eyes right now. It’ll hurt the blonde too much. Or herself.
“I had sex with Aiden last week.”
Frankie stops breathing for a second and averts her look to the other side of the room. She bends toward the sink, so Noor is forced to step aside, and spits out the white foam in her mouth. After that, she rinses. It remains awkwardly quiet for a while and Noor reads into it.
“See, you hate it. I knew you would. But there’s more.”
All Frankie can do is laugh in a painful way, though: “Really? I think I’ve heard enough.”
She’s about to step away from the singer, but Noor’s fingers slip up to Frankie’s neck to make her look at her.
“No, you need to know this.”
“What?” Frankie growls, uninterested and annoyed at the same time.
For fuck’s sake, she doesn’t even have a right to be upset about this. She’s the one having non-stop sexual pleasures with Kennedy. Noor is entitled to sleep with her husband. If only her heart would adapt to the logic of her mind.
“I was thinking about you,” Noor explains, with fire in her eyes that cannot be tamed. “The entire time he was touching me, I was thinking about you.”
She is trying hard — so hard to be the perfect wife. For Aiden, for David, for her fans and the world. But there’s always Frankie. Everywhere. In every thought and every conversation.
Frankie has to swallow extra hard to get through the moment. Noor reaches for her own panties and pulls them down with one determinate move. After that, she removes her shirt. She’s naked right now. Very, very naked in front of Frankie. The dancer’s eyes grow big and she gasps for air. Her lady parts are tingling like crazy, they are urging her hands to lay them on that delicious flesh. She was aware Noor has some exceptional boobs, but seeing them up-close and revealed is just crazy. Her stomach has killer abs, her waist is toned to perfection, her skin sparkles like a Latina diva. Those lean fingers start pushing Frankie’s shirt up. Slowly, sultry and in a teasing way — like they know what they are doing. Frankie has slept with a lot of women before, but for some reason, she’s nervous as hell at this point.
“What are you doing?”
Noor keeps her lips close to hers and whispers: “I want to fuck you.”
A giant wave of shivers run up and down the blonde’s spine.
“What?” she stutters all shaky and overwhelmed.
“It’s pretty self-explanatory,” the singer tells her as she massages Frankie’s boobs underneath the fabric of her shirt.
It feels too good.
“But Noor …”
A clack of the tongue shuts her up as seductive eyes force her to give in to her desire.
“Shush. I’m not interested in being polite or heterosexual tonight.”
She kisses Frankie on the lips, long and hard. It’s wanting and promising. Her hands pull her friend closer to her, until they are both forced up against the sink.
“I wanna lay in bed all night,” Noor tells her in between heated kisses. “With you. I want to cuddle and fuck. All night.”
And, damn, is she serious about it! Frankie’s coming up with reasons why this is a bad idea. She’s stuttering and gasping for air as Noor seems to continue attacking her in a sexual way. Her body isn’t objecting. After the blonde says her name three times in a row, the singer looks up with blurry, deep eyes.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening. I was busy imagining having sex with you.”
Frankie smirks and shakes her head as if she’s not buying this version of reality. What the hell is happening?
“After I’m done with you,” Noor whispers seductively, “your lips will hurt from kissing, your heart will want to burst out of your chest, your butt will be red from all the squeezing, you won’t be able to touch your lady parts without exploding for hours and every nerve in your body will tingle with aftershocks.”
The dancer’s flushing like crazy. Never happened before.
“I want to taste you. I want to know what it is like to lick you down there.”
Noor’s tongue travels down that long neck. Frankie’s aggressively trying to keep a straight face while all that is going through her mind is having sex with her friend. Ultimately, the sound of breaking glass shakes them up and some blood dripping along Noor’s bare arm draws her attention. She pushes her back and freaks out immediately.
“Oh, my God. What’s that? Where is it coming from?”
A completely sexually induced Noor looks up from the face she’s sucking off and her eyes widen the second she recognizes red substance coloring her skin.
“What the …?”
They trace it back to the side of her left hand, where a deep cut pushes blood out of her body. The cocktail glass broke. Noor must have pushed it over accidentally. She must be really drunk if she didn’t even feel that. Maybe it’s one of those cuts that hurts afterward — when it’s all sewed up again. Frankie puts her hand on the gushing gap and reaches for a towel. Forget about that sexual tension, it’s long gone by now. Frankie’s seriously concerned and thinking through all of the options.
“I’m gonna need you to put on some underwear. And then I’m taking you to the emergency room,” she tells her in a strict voice, hoping the girl will understand.
But no matter how many cocktails passed her lips, Noor still realizes just exactly what kind of person she is.
“No, I can’t. They’ll see me. Those idiots will want to take pictures and …”
She’s talking about the paparazzi. They’ll know she’s with Frankie. But Frankie grasps onto her unharmed hand and forces both of them to calm down. The warmth of her hand feel relaxing and determined.
“They won’t, I promise.”
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