Claire was stirred abruptly out of her dream by the sounds of a siren outside. She had fallen asleep on her friend’s queen size bed after returning from the 69 Club in downtown Atlanta with her home girl. She didn’t remember most of the night but knew a good time was had by all by the trail of clothes leading from the front door to the edge of the bed. On the couch one of their other friends was still sleeping, curled up to another scantily clad college girl. Her Clark Atlanta University tanktop and worn denim daisy dukes laying on top the coffee table; her partner also in a blissful state of undress-dark mocha blended with vanilla cream. Hanging on the wall behind them was a colorful display of fireworks dancing across the National Mall-one can imagine POTUS Obama tearing up the center stage, in front the Lincoln Memorial with Katy Perry and his lead lady FLOTUS Michelle. Roaring the celebratory evening away; yes we can, in the land of the rainbow-loving the one we are with; if only for the moment. Freedom to love in the Land of Liberty. In Goddess we Trust.
Claire gracefully and unashamedly danced over to the kitchen, not bothering to dress-pouring herself some ice coffee from the fridge. This humidity’s a bitch, she thought to herself. No wonder they call it Hotlanta. At least clothing is optional here. She was in fucking paradise. She felt comfortable walking around in the nude at her own place, even in the kitchen. The sudden coolness from the open refrigerator sent chills up her body as it teased her bare essentials. Barefoot Chardonnay and Cabernet Sauvignon bottles stood on the granite bar with four crystal wine glasses. There was also a case of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale next to it. Some leftover Cajun Chicken and french fries caught her hungry eyes as her stomach growled at her like a ferocious lion within a cage. She was spent from a terrific evening that she couldn’t even recall. A lone receipt lay on the counter from Le Bilboquet for $214.69 plus $96.00 for drinks. One doesn’t have to be a blonde genius to figure out a good time was had by the daisy train team. Go girl power.
She couldn’t help but think of Toni and her culinary skills acquired at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. On her 19th birthday Toni surprised her with a romantic candlelight dinner, serving her favorite-Mussels a la Mariniere and Creme Brulee for dessert. She had served her in a very revealing french maid outfit; to her the kitchen was her second bedroom. The art of cooking was not unlike the art of sex. Hence the culinary arts to Toni was an orgasmic experience-love had to be in the mix or else it was just bland. She could bring any guest of her delicious spread to climax within the first succulent taste.
A lavender futon would be heaven right next to the island, Claire would hint at Toni. Maybe Claire was jealous at Toni’s second love interest-her fluid movements around the kitchen a hypnotic dance; casting a spell on her. She was as addicted to her culinary delights as her sex-craving her fix every hour or convulsing into withdrawals.
July 4th in Hotlanta was going to be raging tonight. She’d see to that. Time to make some fireworks with someone else and get Toni out of my mind, musing to herself. Are you ready for love playing in the background over the speakers as she poured a little cream into her black coffee. Strong and dark-maybe she needs to taste some of the local specialty and add some spice to her life. Lord knows she was in deep with the situation in Raleigh, but running from her past problems and relationships was going to have to stop sometime. What the hell are you doing? She could hear her late mother say, you are better than that. Deep down she knew her body was not meant for abuse, emotional and otherwise. She had an addiction to satistfy that a Snickers could not do. Maybe a bong hit will calm me down-what’s that quote, get high and unwind. Her stress levels were off the charts and she needed to get control over herself, not under or on top of someone else.