"I leaned in and kissed her. Her breath was mine."


Samantha Dudley

jimenezAn English major at West Los Angeles College, Samantha was born and raised in Culver City, and has been writing creatively since she was 12. Deaf since birth, she has always used writing as a stress reliever and coping mechanism. A fan of Anton Chekhov, she takes this writing principal of Chekhov’s to heart: "Audacity and Originality: Flee from the Stereotype.”

Other Work:

Blueberry Lips

This coffee shop blows. It’s not even 11 p.m. and that dumb petite barista is already closing shop. She’s cleaning the tables and flipping the chairs on top of them. We get it, it’s Saturday and you’d rather be across the street. Thankfully for me, I’m on the patio street side and she hasn’t bothered to clean around me. Across the street is a darkly lit bar. The pink and purple neon sign reads “Open Sesame…Open ’til 2 a.m.” Maybe I should go have a drink. The coffee’s watered down. Stupid girl can’t do her job right.

My phone vibrated and it was a text from Adam. It read:
“I’m sorry I cut our Anniversary dinner early, my love. I’ll make it up to you when I come home after my shift.” I scratched the palm of my hand and rolled my eyes. I exhaled, then pounded the keys of my phone and replied, “No worries, you have work. I’ll find a way to entertain myself tonight. Love you.” I sent the text before I could delete the last part. I finished my cold coffee and stood up. I paid the bill but didn’t leave a tip on the table. She rushed me and quite frankly, she made me uneasy. I shot her a glance and politely said, “Have a great weekend.” “You too,” she replied.

I walked to my car and opened the passenger door. I threw my jacket inside and sat my purse on the passenger seat. But I didn’t feel like going home yet. I kept looking at the glimmering call of “Open Sesame.” I bit my lip as it dawned on me. It’s Saturday night, go have a drink. I leaned inside my car and ripped open the change drawer below the radio. I took my wedding ring off and dropped it in with the pennies and nickels. I closed up my car and walked across the street. I looked inside my purse as I stood in line, to find my ID. The bouncer made a point to repeat the name on every ID he read. “Grace Parker,” he said to me. I looked up and flashed an innocent smile. “That’s me.” “Well, your name is just as beautiful as you. Welcome to Open Sesame.” He unlatched the red velvet rope to let me in. I nodded my head to him and walked in. “Excuse me, you need to pay.” I heard someone scream. But instantly I heard the bouncer from behind me say. “She’s with the party, it’s all good.” The girl shook her head as she stamped my hand. I avoided eye contact with her as I spotted the bar.

As I walk on through the dance floor, I instantly feel a male hand grab my ass. A second later, another hand gently caresses my breast. I make a point to ignore it and continue to walk. I find a pair of empty stools and plant myself in the one that didn’t have a rip it. The blonde male bartender gave me a nod and asked, “What can I get you?” “Scotch on the rocks.” He nodded again and danced his way to the bar behind him to make the drink. I had just realized the bar was playing techno or rave music. I don’t understand it. He handed me my drink and said “fifteen.” I paid cash. He gave me a five-dollar bill as I scoped out the people and the vibe. “Have you been here before?” I smile, “Never.” He says, “I can tell. It’s fun. It’s just every last Saturday of the month is gay night.” “Oh,” I said as I evaluated the room once again. “Yeah,” he said as he locked eyes with me. “I didn’t realize,” I said seductively. This stirred something in him, and he poured more scotch in my glass. “Let me know if you need anything.” “Do I stick out like a sore thumb?” I asked him as I dropped my middle finger in the glass to play with an ice cube. “Just… a little.” “Tom!” Someone interrupted. “Keep moving!” the chubby man demanded. The bartender extended his hand to me and said “I’m Tom.” “Sally,” I said as I shook his hand. “Let me know if you need anything, Sally.” “I will.” I said. I picked up my drink and moved to a booth.

I found an empty grey plush booth and observed the crowd. The dance floor looked like a standing orgy. They fondled and kissed each other at certain breaks of a song. The tempo was fast and addicting if you were into that type of thing. They gave each other a butt slap or booty grab every so often. I tried not to stare, but who could look away; it looked like a dance scene from Brittany Spears’ “Slave for You” video. I shook my head at myself, calculating how much older I was compared to the freaks on the dance floor. “Why are you shaking your head?” I heard a voice say. I look around to see if it was just my imagination. A blonde girl with an ass stares my way with a smile. “Yeah, you,” she said as she came closer to me. “I was just thinking about Brittany Spears.” “Oh, I’d bang her.” I reached for my drink and hid my face. She’s hitting on me, how cute. “Is she your type?....Blonde?” she said as she met eyes with mine. “Yeah, she is. You should sit down,” I told her, and she did. “I’m Betty,” I lied. “Danielle.” “Hi Danielle.” She smiled. I shook hands with her. This girl looked so young. So damn innocent. “What do you do, Betty?” “Party,” I replied. I really don’t want to do small talk. “Cool, me too.” “Do you want another drink?” She nodded. Tom’s chubby manager gave us drinks. “Come here often?” I asked. “This is my third time.” “Nice.” “You?” she asked. She was following my lead with small talk. I nodded. “Did you come with anyone?” “No,” she replied. “You can sit closer. I don’t bite.” She giggled and slid close to me. “That’s better,” I whispered.

Forty-five minutes of bleak conversation passed by. They were filled with lies on my part. But it seemed to reel her in even more. I intertwined my fingers with hers as another head-pounding song played. She slid her fingers alongside my jeans then lightly grazed my chest. She was holding my necklace charm in her fingers. “I like this.” Adam had just given it to me as a present. “Maybe I’ll let you wear it,” I said. “Is the night pleasing enough for you?” she asked, still holding my charm “It’s a start to a pleasing night,” I replied. “What does a pleasurable night look like?” she said as she let go of my necklace. “Do you want me to show you what a pleasurable night looks like?” I asked as I rubbed her inner thigh. The naïve girl stared at me, but then began to think too much. I could sense it in her face. I needed to buy her another drink. I waved for the cocktail waitress to come over. “Two shots,” I ordered. The girl became excited again that I was paying for drinks. “Yes, show me what a pleasurable night looks like.” We made a silent toast and pounded the shots of vodka. I began to search for the nearest exit as she grabbed my face and said, “How old are you, Betty?” “Do you wanna know my age, or do you want to go somewhere and fuck?” I replied. The poor girl’s eyes beamed with shock and intrigue. “Yeah,” she replied slowly. “Yes, what?” I said, giving her a hard time. I wanted to hear her say it. She cleared her throat. “Let’s go somewhere.” I got up and pulled her to the back exit. She led me to her white VW. “Do you want me to drive?” I suggested. “No, no. We’ll go to my place,” she said as she fiddled around her purse for her keys. “Here,” I say as I extend my hand out. “I got it,” she said as she flung her keys around. I pulled her in and gave her a long kiss. She smiled and motioned for me to get in the car. I immediately blast the radio up, to avoid conversation, naturally. She fed into this notion and sang off key to a song. The girl was tipsy. I continued to play with her hair and kiss her shoulder every once in a while to still show interest. All the while, I took note of where she lived and how to get back to the coffee shop. We parked not too far away from the club, maybe seven blocks. She turned off the car as we sat in her driveway. She turned toward me, and she looked so tempting. The lights of the house were off except for her porch light. Her eye shadow picked up the light when she blinked. She stared at me. She’s ready for me. But I made her wait. She attempted to pull me in for a kiss. But I told her, “Wait.” “Wait?” she asked. “Till we are in the house.” “Why wait?” she whined. “I like seeing you squirm,” I replied.

This literally sent her in a frenzy, and in 2.5 seconds we were inside her house. She slammed the door shut and began to kiss me. She moved me against the front door. I locked it. I cupped her face with my hands and began to slowly tongue kiss her. She moaned, and I stopped. She looked at me as if I did something wrong. I leaned in and unzipped her jeans. I peeled them off her, but kept her underwear on. I placed the palm of my hand over her privates. I didn’t play with her. I just teased her. She turned her body around and forced me to wrap my arms around her stomach as we walked to a room. Her room was clean, too clean if you ask me. “Should I worry about making noise?” I asked. She grinned and said, “I live alone.” I couldn’t help but bite my lip in joy. She jumped on the bed and began to touch her breast through her shirt. She asked, “Get on the bed?” I walked to the edge of the bed, then stood on my knees inches from her bare feet. “Take it off,” she said as she began to play with herself. “Take what off?” I teased. In a whisper she replied, “Your top.” Her hips started to pivot, and she had a rhythm going. I obeyed and took off my blouse. All that remained was my bra and necklace. With her free hand she pulled me on top of her and started to unzip my jeans. She moved her fingers quickly and started to arouse me. I smiled as I started to feel stimulation. “Do you like the way it feels?” she said. I couldn’t help but nod. “Why do you get to take control?” I asked. “Kiss me,” she demanded. “Why?” I pleaded. “It makes me feel good.” I leaned in and kissed her. Her breath was mine. She started to moan uncontrollably. It was such a turn on. We continued to kiss until she freed both of her hands to unclasp my bra. She giggled as she kept eye contact with me. She threw my bra. I was now topless and she, bottomless. Her blonde hair sat perfectly as she rested her head on the pillow. “Can I take control now?” I said. She wrapped her legs around me and said, “Tell me what to do Betty?” I moved my hair to one side of my neck. I let it fall carelessly. I giggled as I remembered I was Betty, not Sally. “Play with yourself,” I said. No argument there. I took her left free hand and led her to touch my shoulders and breast. I leaned in to kiss her. I held her free hand by the wrist. I moved my body forward to excite her. As I continued to kiss her I took my right hand and set it next to her cheek. I gave her one more kiss. Then, I slowly drew my hand to her throat and started to squeeze. She started to scream. She panicked quickly.

Why do these women always scream? Don't they understand they are wasting their breath? My hands are around their throat, and my nails are digging into their neck. It baffles me really; where are your survival skills? This one’s a slapper, she's trying to scratch and slap me. Toss you're arms about; it will only tire you, my dear. Oh, this is embarrassing. I forgot her name. To think we were making out just moments ago. She asked for a pleasurable night when she took me home from the bar. Little did she know I find death pleasurable. What the hell is her name? Bella? I know I met Tom the bartender. But what’s her name again? Oh, she's gasping now. Here comes the convulsions, this—now this is my favorite part—the eyes lose their control, they bat, they lose sight literally and figuratively as to what they need to do, open, shut, squint, open. This one seems to be a wide-eyed death. Danielle! That’s her name. Yes. Her arms weaken as she realizes she has lost the fight. Her legs have stopped shuffling, and it's done. Her lips are blue. I let out a squeal of excitement. I hop off the freshly dead corpse and find my bra. “Where did she throw it?” I ask myself. Ah, it was under the bed. I find my red pumps. Wipe my feet before I place my delicate feet in them. I button my blouse. I look at the mirror and give my hair a nice toss, with a wink. I take one last look at the body as I grab my purse. I couldn’t help myself. I was on my way out the door, but I had to see her face one last time. I walked over and stared at her. Then I kissed her blueberry lips goodbye.

“Grace?” I heard Adam call. “Gracie?” He said again. He turned on the bedroom light. But I refused to open my eyes yet. I slightly opened one eye, and the alarm clock read 5 a.m. I began to stretch and hum. “Hi, baby,” Adam said. I opened my eyes and found him sitting at my side. He began to rub my back. I lifted my head to give him a kiss. “Baby,” I said. “Happy Belated Anniversary,” he sang. “Thank you!” I yawned. I sat up and faced him. “Here’s some coffee.” “You are really trying to get some,” I said as I took it. “It’s my mission,” he said with a laugh, as he touched my new necklace. “Men,” I said as I shook my head. “It looks beautiful on you,” je commented. “I love it,” I replied. “What did you do last night after I left?” “Went to a coffee shop, came home, watched some T.V. Nothing too crazy.” He nodded his head and looked at the nightstand. “Where’s your ring, baby?” He asked. “It’s in the car. I spilled coffee on it, and it got sticky, and I left it in there on accident.” He stood up. “I’m going to take a quick shower. You need to wake up,” he said as he kissed my neck. “I will,” I said as I held onto my plastic cup of coffee. “You can always join me if you want,” he said, pointing to the bathroom. “We’ll see,” I replied. He started to take off his shoes, and then said,“I almost forgot. I got you something.” He handed me a bag and continued, “Your favorite.” I set my coffee on the side table and took the white bag from his hands. I opened the bag and started to grin. “Oh, you shouldn’t have,” I thought to myself. I looked up at him and pulled out the gift. “Blueberry Muffin,” I said. “See, I listen. You said you always liked blueberry muffins not because of the way they taste but because of the bleeding color the blueberries make,” he said as he walked to the bathroom. Steam escaped the muffin as I tore it in half. The hues of blue marked inside the muffin gave me a rush of intoxicating pleasure. “I love when lips look this color,” I confessed. “What’s that?” Adam yelled as he stepped into the shower. “Nothing, sweetie, I was just saying thank you.” I got off the bed to put my hair in a ponytail. I found a fresh blueberry in the white bag. I plucked it out and strolled myself in front of the mirror. I crushed the single blueberry between my pointer finger and thumb. I quickly raised those fingers to my mouth and smeared the blueberry liquid across my lips. I applied the juice evenly and sucked on my stained fingers. I withdrew my hands from my face and pulled my hair up. I took off my clothing so I could join Adam in the shower. But I just stood there staring at the mirror. I stared at my blueberry lips with thrill and satisfaction. I bit my lip, then slowly smiled as I remembered Danielle’s stone-cold face and succulent blueberry lips.

Editor: LinckeN@WLAC.edu | West Los Angeles College | 9000 Overland Ave, Culver City CA 90230 | www.wlac.edu
Production Mngr: Michelle Long-Coffee | Web Design: Clarissa Castellanos