Little Baby Faulkner

12

"Are you gettin' soft on me?"

"I'm not gettin' soft."

"Don't you remember what this is?" Baker's hand goes to my face. "No feelings, ok?"

I nod sideways.

"What is this? Tell me you remember."

"This is no feelings. We don't get involved. If and when one of us catches feelings that's the end of the sex part."

"That's right. This is friends with benefits. Not a relationship," she says.

"I'm not asking for a relationship. Baker: no. Good friends. Great sex. Totally stable."

"Are you: stable?"

"I'm totally fucking stable, Charisma. Totally stable. I wasn't saying anything. I was just saying that from the moment I saw you, I wanted to.."

"Fuck me?"

"That's what it was, one hundred percent wanted to—in this order—strip you down and fuck you, and be your friend just enough to support the former."

"And how do you feel now?"

"Same way. Maintain friendship so we can keep on getting better at sex. Blow each other's minds and shit."

I rub her panty area with my hand. She smiles, then pulls my hand away and says: "Let's wait till we get to the house. I don't want those two listening in."

A few minutes later we opened the door and said goodbye to Charisma's aunt and uncle. We left them in their usual position, securely in their chairs, and the two of them waved and heckled us, how the weekend was going to be so much fun and how—wink, wink—if I didn't get knowledge inside their neice's panties I was the fool of the universe. That's the last time I saw Charisma's aunt and uncle.

Charisma drove us to her new house and parked in the alley.

"Let's get our strategy straight," she says.

I look to her. Her arms are straight out, elbows locked, rested inside the circle of the steering wheel.

"I will approach Brooklyn. I will talk with her. You come in beside me. Stay downstairs."

"What are you gonna say?"

"I'm gonna remind her that this is our house together and we can both have people over, we can both do coke or whatever we want in this house."

"What if your grandmother is in there?"

"What if she is? I love her but we're only getting a small amount of money from her disability—a very small amount. Let's go, ok?"

Inside, Brooklyn sat tapping away at her phone. Baker's grammy lit up when Baker and I came in the room, the way only babies and old people (and extremely innocent lovers) can. She started talking and I peeled off from Baker, all the while listening to Baker and Brooklyn discussing our return to the house. Also, two dogs 🐕—brown pit bulls—jumped all over me, knocked me down, licked my face and ears and gently bit my hands when I pushed them away.

Brooklyn stayed seated on the couch while Baker stood in front of her.

"I want to have Matthew over this weekend. Just like you're having Rambuncto over," Baker said.

"That's exactly the problem," said Brooklyn. "This is the weekend Rambuncto is getting released from jail. Today's Friday. Tomorrow's Saturday. Saturday is the day. He's been in there for six months you think I'm gonna deny him this pussy? This slot? What do you want me to do, Charisma? Do you want me to call the police and ask them to hold him for another week?"