‘No one needs to know’ is what she says, her hazel eyes wide, darting, searching – for what?
He disagrees, steadies her, tries to make sense to her.
‘People do need to know, Alice.’
It doesn’t make sense, his words. She’s drunk, he’s not even close to drunk.
Alice. Who can say Alice without thinking wonderland? Who can say say Wonderland without think- god, she’s something else, the way she smiles, the way her face brightens, first with her teeth, how absurdly perfect, then with her eyes, beaming. Alive. Alice is Alive.
Alice regards him with that smile, curling her index finger around her dark brunette hair. Round and round it goes, coiling, weaving, winding.
Her other hand, her other index finger, is hooked under the right side strap of her light blue dress, a dress covered in the sunny print of sunflowers.
He notices her right hand, resting under the strap as they walk, her stumbling, him taking her weight as they walk.
‘People don’t even get this chance. We should act. We should.’
Alice stresses the word ‘should’ even though it comes out slurred. She stumbles again, falling against the tree behind her – a weathered thing, it’s bark aged, ancient.
Behind them, the party lingers, casting noise that the trees whisper amongst each other. The trees are alive, he thinks. Alive. Alice. It spooks him and the shivers come, just as Alice laughs – and it’s a beautiful thing. Uproarious, hearty. Throaty.
‘Where is your car anyway? We should do it in a car. You can do it. Be my first.’
The little girl that lived up the road, the one that he believed to have thought him gay, a loner, a weirdo, was now a teenager staring down adulthood. Alice turned eighteen today. Alice is alive.
Her first. It catches him off guard, just as her dress did. She bends to catch her breath, revealing the shapes of her breasts. He averts his eyes, closing them, squeezing them – thinking she Once was a girl that thought him gay, a loner, a weirdo.
Alice stands back up, her eyes frazzled, dazzling. Another laugh comes. Her hair, something sorted so perfectly only hours ago, is in a tangle.
How did he even get here, he wondered.
‘Your first?’ He finds himself saying, his mouth moving ahead of his brain, his thoughts.
‘Yeahhhh.’ She drawls Out, her voice becoming a squeak. Like this fact is so obvious.
They’re moving again now. His car is just up ahead. He’ll drive her home.
Alice skips along aside him, and there’s something still so youthful about her, he thinks. Something child-like and yet not somehow.
Her blue dress, loose, free flowing, hugs her legs as she skips.
Her skips come to a stop, yet she dances to a tune only she can hear.
I’m in a dream, he thinks. This isn’t real, and I’m in a dream. I’m gay, a loner, a weirdo and this isn’t real and I’m in a dream.
‘Have You had any water?’
Alice stops, so he stops. She thinks, putting on an exaggerated thinking noise as she does.
The ‘No!’ Comes Out merrily, like she’s found something humorous only she is aware of.
‘When we get you home, we’ll grab some okay?’
‘After you fuck me?’
‘Pleaaaase? You’ve been gone forever and now your back and I’m 18 and you’ve been gone forever and you’re sexy!’
She’s walking alongside him now, into him. It’s a warm spring evening and he can still feel the heat radiating off her body. He thinks about this, about pushing her away, but leaves her there, as she forcibly links her arm to his.
‘Don’t worry about him.’
An exaggerated sigh comes.
‘He’s prolly working late or fucking some girl and here comes another excuse.’
Every word comes out hard, every syllable drawn out as she walks, stamping her feet, walking into him.
There’s a pang of guilt. And something else.
‘I’m sure you two can sort it out.’
‘Nahhhhh. I don’t really want to. Being here is what I feel like, Mhm!’
He can smell her breath, can smell the sourness of alcohol mixed.
With this, he can smell her perfume. A giddiness comes to mind, the same he feels at the start of summer – cosmic heralding of new beginnings.
They reach the car, her stumbling into him, weaving her index finger around her hair, him supporting her up, carefully keeping his hand on her back and not an inch lower.
As he open the passenger door, she’s pulling the dress strap on her right shoulder down.
Alice’s shoulder comes bare, the curve of her right breast comes bare, it’s lightly pink areola hinted at.
‘Alice, no. I’m old…and decrepit.’
He’s stirring but so is something else. Something of good possessing him.
Alice giggles, not of frustration, but of playfulness.
She sits down in the seat, her dress riding up. The action catches his eye, and before he looks away, he sees her panties, yellow and lacy.
‘Fuck me here. This would be perfect.’
Out comes another giggle.
He doesn’t say anything, just closes the door gently and walks around to the driver’s side.
He steps in, pulls the door shut and gets the belt on. Alice is looking him – no – pouting at him, her lips, soft no doubt, curled up in staged sadness. Her eyes are different too. Hurt. Watery.
He watches her, feeling his frown coming on, then her face shifts into a giggle and she leans forward to open the glovebox compartment.
‘What does a sexy, sexy man have in here?’
He starts the car as her face curls into a frown.
In a moment she’ll give up looking and focus her gaze back on him, looking at his face, unhooking her dress.
In a moment she’ll be away from her own party and back home. Safe and sound.
I don’t know where this really came from. And it’s not entirely erotica, but my mind lead me down here. Just a little story, a moment in time, in my mind and in the life of the spirited Alice.
Sometimes that’s the best ones, the stories that come vividly. Alice was indeed alive when I wrote this. I hope she has a smashing life after she wakes up.