The challenge was thrown out and I accepted that gauche gauntlet because let’s face it…I have no class and can’t resist a challenge. I’ll just set this up for you…the picture below was posted on Facebook and authors were challenged to write a scene.
Without further ado…here is the scene I wrote:
Virginia sat on the stool and cajoled the bartender into serving just one more drink. When she shut one eye the woman looked pretty damn cute and there was only one of her, so she figured one more drink wouldn’t kill her. She’d already had two above her limit, but who was counting. Besides, wasn’t that what a person was supposed to do when your lover of ten years decided to move out and take every last piece of furniture with her. It didn’t matter that she’d paid for half. What Cynthia wanted, she got.
Desperate times called for desperate measures, so she’d begged her best friend to move in with her. The timing couldn’t be more perfect for either of them. Hillary had just been kicked to the curb by her lover. The reason seemed a bit shallow to Virginia, but she had her own shit to deal with, so she’d simply offered a solution to a problem. Who dumps their girlfriend because she has a terrible fashion sense and questionable home decorating skills.
Hillary needed a place to live and she had furniture to offer. It was a done deal. Virginia wanted to be out of the way when the moving van arrived from Chicago, so she decided to kill a few hours at the bar not far from her house. Hillary had decided to stay back and supervise. She would have plenty of time to catch up with her best friend now that she’d made the big move to Washington. Besides, alcohol would take the edge off and tenderize her in preparation for the inevitable cryfest with her friend. Hillary needed as much a shoulder to cry on as Virginia. They would start their own wet t-shirt contest with the tears they both still needed to shed.
“Thanks,” she slurred when the cute bartender set the drink in front of her.
“Hey, you’re not planning on driving, anywhere are you?”
Virginia started to shake her head until she realized that was a bad idea. “Walking,” she managed to answer.
“Okay, but no more batting those beautiful green eyes of yours for another drink. This one’s the last you’re getting. Can I call someone to walk you home? I’d do it myself, but my shift doesn’t end for another two hours.”
“Oh, that’s nice of you.” When she reached for her drink, she sloshed liquid all over the bar. “Shit, I think I’m a wee bit tipsy. Better head home. At least, I’ll have a bed now.”
After throwing a twenty on the bar, Virginia wobbled to her feet and zig-zagged her way to the door. Stumbling the two blocks home she barely registered the moving truck backing out of her driveway. Carefully navigating the two steps leading to her front door, Virginia poked her key at the lock and on the fourth try, managed to force it in. Before she had a chance to turn the key, the door opened and Hillary raised her eyebrow. At least that’s what Virginia thought she saw happen.
“Well, thank goodness the movers set everything up. I can see you’re about ready to pass out,” Hillary said. “I guess drowning our sorrows in a tub of ice cream is out. That’s my drug of choice. Clearly, yours is alcohol.”
Virginia stepped into the living room and took one look at the couch and blurted out, “Holy shit why are there seven vaginas looking at me? Damn, I am drunk. I understand double vision, but there’s a whole lot more than two. Is that like a practice couch? I don’t know whether to lick them or fuck them.”
Hillary cocked her head to the side. “Wow, I never really noticed that before. No wonder she said it was butt ugly. Although, as a lesbian, don’t you think it has a certain feng shui. You know like those red doors that are supposed to bring good luck. Do you think it’ll help us get laid?”
Victoria sort of shuffled over and touched one of the vagina patterns, poking her finger in the center. She was rapidly sobering up. “Damn, I was hoping there was like a built-in crack or maybe a hole or something in the cushion. Do you think the designers knew what this would look like?”
“God, Virginia, no wonder your girlfriend left. Quit poking at it. You’re using your finger like a guy uses his dick, no finesse at all.”
“Are you fucking serious? You brought this pussy couch cross country and you want me to stroke it? I can’t believe you never noticed the design.”
“I didn’t have my glasses on. The couch was the last straw for Darcy. When they delivered it, she gave me my walking papers.”
“So, this is new?”
Hillary nodded. “Uh huh. Hey, let’s call it the Coochie Couch.”
“One, two, three, four, five. Yup, definitely orgy territory with the five vaginas in the middle. Oh, and the ends kinda look like a pair of nice asses.” Virginia tilted her head. “Well, sorta, if I close one eye and imagine them in a Picasso painting. But you know, I like the idea that each end resembles someone’s butt. It makes sense in a weird way.”
“So, we can keep Coochie Couch?”
“Sure, why not. It’s probably the only pussy I’ll get for a while. Can we get matching recliners to look like a pair of boobs?”
“I’m on it.” Hillary grabbed her iPad off the table shaped like a tongue.
Virginia looked down at the wood coffee table. “Oh my god, that looks like a big tongue. Surely you noticed that!”
“Oh yeah, I actually had that custom made. I must have some subliminal thing happening and that’s why I picked the couch. Sex on the brain or something.”
Virginia leaned down and stuck her nose in one of the vaginas. “I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing that it doesn’t smell like pussy. If either of us gets lucky, maybe we can change that.” She grinned.
“Damn, bad news. There aren’t any boob chairs, will titty throw pillows work?” Hillary asked.
Virginia laughed. “Absolutely they will be the perfect accessory for the couch. I like your style, Hillary, don’t let anyone change a single thing about your fashion sense or your ability to pick perfectly good living room furniture.”
So that’s my scene. We’ll have a bit of fun with this at GCLS and all the authors who are good sports will read their scenes during our Facebook live sessions. More to come on that.
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