Home

Electrikkiss.com is an affiliate of eBay

I woke up early one summer morning to the usual sound of my baby crying. After rubbing my eyes, I made my into the kitchen to mix up a bottle of formula and cereal for my son. Once to his bedroom, little PJ happily grabbed the bottle from my hands wide eyed and shoved the nipple into his tiny mouth. Then I began my usual morning routine of changing his soggy diaper.

“He is cuttie Mc Cuter-steen! He’s the cutest little cutie I’ve ever seen!” I sang in a high-pitched voice.

PJ laughed before continuing his feast of baby moosh. I picked him up in my arms and walked him into my bedroom, placing him on my bed next to me, while I glanced at the screen on my cell phone and checked for recent texts. There was only one, from Tangerae’.

It read, “Hey Asterisk, what time is Redbeard’s the funeral today?”

I replied, “It’s at two but my boss wouldn’t give me the day off. I’m scheduled until five. I’m hoping to be able to sneak out by four if it’s slow.”

“Okay. I can’t make it until four anyway. I can meet you there,” she responded a moment later.

“I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

After setting my phone down on the bed, I took PJ into the living room and put him in his play yard in front of the TV. Then I made my way into the kitchen and prepared a Caprese salad to take with me. I figured it was simple enough to make quickly and store in the work fridge. I sliced some tomatoes and layered them with mozzarella and Basil. Then I grabbed a bottle of olive oil and another of balsamic vinaigrette to place in the bag next to the salad, figuring I could dress it once I got to the funeral.

I walked into the bathroom to ready myself for work. Once I was finished I did the same for PJ and then headed out to drop him with the sitter before making my way to my usual shift.

Once I made it to my job at the hotel spa, I clocked in and checked the appointment books. There was a full wedding party scheduled and I was given the bride for an up-do. After setting up my hair station I walked into the waiting area and greeted her.

“Megan Foster,” I called.

A woman about my age, wearing the biggest freakin’ rock I had ever seen stood up. I was waiting for the weight of the damn thing to pull her down, but it didn’t.

ring

“Are you here to escort me to the hair girl?” she asked.

“No, my name is Asterisk and I’ll be doing your hair today.”

Megan stopped in her tracks, giving me a look of confusion which immediately turned to rage.

“I don’t know why YOU are doing my hair! Betty is supposed to do it! I had a consultation with her on Monday! She knows what I want! I was here for four hours to make sure that my hair was perfect!”

“I’m sorry ma’am. Betty doesn’t work on Fridays. I’m surprised they would have even booked you a consultation with her when they knew your wedding date was today,” I apologized. “I work Tuesday through Saturday and could have gotten you in with me any of those days had I of known.”

“Monday was the only day I could come! This is unbelievable!” she screamed at me. Other guests waiting in the lounge looked our way. “Call Betty and tell her to come in!”

“I understand how you feel. Please let me get you settled in the salon and I will go talk to my manager and see what we can do about it. I’m sure I will be able to get you at the very least, a discount for the confusion.”

Megan rolled her eyes but followed me into the salon anyway. Once she was seated I offered her something to drink and grabbed it on my way into the office.

20140703_111827

“Hey Carla,” I said to my manager once I had secured the office door behind me, “My client Megan Foster, the bride, is here and upset. She told me that she had a consultation with Betty on Monday and was expecting Betty to do her hair today. Is it possible to call her and see if she wants to come in?”

“That woman is something else. I told her specifically that Betty wouldn’t be working today. I tried to get her in for a consultation with you instead but she insisted on coming in on Monday. That whole wedding party has been nothing but problems. They want everything discounted or for free. Betty is gone for the weekend anyway, tell her it’s you or she can do it herself for all I care.”

“Oh, okay I guess I’ll just try to humor her then.”

“Good luck!” my boss shouted as I closed the office door.

I reentered the salon with Megan’s coffee and handed it to her. I watched as she took a sip.

“Oh my God! This coffee is horrible! Is it fresh? It tastes like it was brewed yesterday.”

“I’m sorry. It should be fresh from about twenty minutes ago. I can get you something else if you would like,” I offered.

“Don’t bother.”

“What style did you have in mind? Do you have a picture?” I asked.

“I have a few in my camera from Monday, after Betty styled it,” she said, reaching into her giant Gucci bag. She pulled the camera out and put the pictures up on the screen. I looked carefully, the up-do seemed simple enough.

I plugged in my curling iron and let it heat up as I prepared her hair with a texturizing cream. Once the iron was hot and the hair was prepped I began in the back, curling individual locks of hair one at a time.

“Not that way! Betty held the iron differently than you are!” Megan scolded me.

“I’m sorry?” I asked a bit confused.

“She gripped the handle the other way! Do you even know what you are doing?”

“I have been in the industry over a decade and…”

“Whatever, just do it!” she ordered picking up her phone and dialing.

I did my best to curl her hair around the arm planted against her ear. I could tell by her shouting that there were other things she had planned that were going awry. Doing my best to tune her out, I continued on methodically. After about 45 minutes I had all of her long thick hair cured into tight locks. I grabbed a teasing comb and began to add some strength at the base of her hair to hold in the pins I would be placing.

Megan looked in the mirror just as she hung up her phone. Immediately she began running her fingers through her fresh curls. “What are you doing? This doesn’t look anything like the picture! Betty didn’t do this way!” she shouted at me.

“I’m just prepping your hair so it will hold all day. Betty was just doing a run through so she probably didn’t see the need. I want to make sure it lasts for your entire wedding. It won’t look like this when I am done.”

Megan continued on ripping through the curls anyway. She wasn’t listening, “I look like a little girl, like Shirley Temple!”

shirley

“Megan, you have to trust that I know what I am doing. I’m just setting the foundation. It will look exactly like your picture, I promise.”

Her face was growing increasingly red and her hands began trembling. I could see the massive diamond on her finger bouncing up and down on the arm rest. With each movement my envy was growing, I was a much nicer person than she would ever be and no man wanted to give me one of those things. I was really starting to hate that bitch and had begun imagining smacking her across her ugly smug face with my comb.

“How much longer is this going to take? I am having my nails done next and I don’t want to be late for that appointment,” she continued to complain.

“Don’t worry, you were booked plenty of time for both,” I assured her as she snatched another chunk of hair out of my hand, this time barely missing the hot iron I was holding.

Just as I was about to intentionally burn her hand with it, the salon door swung open and we were greeted by two women carrying a bottle of champagne and three glasses.

“Oh thank God!” Megan shouted noting their arrival.

“What’s the matter honey?” the older of the two asked.

“The girl who did my hair on Monday isn’t here today!”

“Calm down, I’m sure that….” the woman paused as she looked at my name tag, “Asterisk, here can handle it. This is a top notch resort, these girls all know what they are doing. They do weddings here every weekend. Don’t you?” she asked me.

I nodded.

I turned Megan away from the mirror and I worked fast to finish her style before she could turn back and resume any more of her bitching.

Her friend handed her a glass of Champagne and Megan tossed it back like it was shot at a college dorm party. Wasting no time, her friend quickly poured her another. I’m not sure which one of us was happier to see Megan finally start to relax.

Once I was finished, I turned her back to face herself in the mirror.

Megan glanced at her finished style for the first time before looking over to her friends for acceptance.

“It’s beautiful!” they said in unison.

“I love it!” Megan finally said. “But what about this stray hair?” she asked pointing to her head. I didn’t see anything but grabbed the hair spray anyway and pretended to fix the nonexistent problem.

“How’s that?” I asked after a moment of imaginary smoothing.

“Yes, it’s perfect! Actually it’s even better than Betty’s style!”

I wanted to knock her out of my chair but refrained. As I directed her over to the nail station, I mouthed a quick, “good luck” to my co-worker. She just shook her heard and giggled to herself.

I moved on to my next client.

Roughly an hour later I was finished. As i was cleaning up my station I noticed my co-worker was still struggling with Megan’s nails. I peaked my head over to snoop.

“You smeared some polish on my cuticle! Can you clean it up? No, not like that! Is there anyone else who can paint in this place? Can somebody else do this instead?”

“Hey Asterisk!” my co-worker shouted after she noticed me spying, “Can you come paint Megan’s nails for her? I’m horrible at painting, she thinks you would do a better job.”

Bitch!

My co-worker was a great painter, she was just sick of Megan’s shit and decided to dump her back onto me. Even though my paint job was not any better than the first, for whatever reason, Megan had decided it was and kept me waiting hand over (her own) foot throughout what should have been my lunch break. It was close to three o’clock when the wedding party finally left.

Hurriedly, I cleaned up my work area and put all the supplies away getting ready to hightail it out to my friends funeral.

Just as I was about to clock out it happened.

“Asterisk, I just booked you another appointment!” my boss warned.

I let out a sigh, “You know the funeral is today, you said I could leave early.”

“I know, you will be done by four. You are fast!” she tried to console me.

“It started at two!” I reminded her.

“You know I need two weeks advance notice to guarantee a day off!”

“He died!” I shouted.

“He’s not immediate family, company policy!” she reminded me.

My frustration was growing and I wanted to scream. Instead I stayed and did a hair cut on another difficult client. It was just after four when I finally finished up. For the second time that day I was making an attempt to clock out when I was bombarded by a glob of white lace. It was Megan and she was hysterical.

“Asterisk! My nail! It chipped! I need you to fix it right now! I noticed it as my fiancé was placing my wedding band on my finger during the ceremony! The photographer almost took a picture of it! He said he will re-do them if I can get it fixed right away, before the reception!”

I let out another long sigh. “Oh no! I’m so sorry!” I lied.  “Please sit down, I can fix it right now.”

Megan plopped down in a chair with three bridesmaids standing behind her. Each of them holding  a piece of her six-foot train in the air in an attempt to keep it from touching the ground. She extended her now duel diamond toting hand towards me and I proceeded to repair the nail. The lights from the ceiling caught the jewels and I was temporarily blinded by several flashes of light. I worked quickly all the while bitter that this cunt was given an obvious life of luxury. I laughed to myself thinking about the poor groom who actually decided to marry her, knowing full well he had a life of shit in front of him. I doubted he’d even get laid that night.

Once I was finished, I sprayed the nail with a rapid drying elixir.

“You should be good to go in about five minutes. I’m off for the day and late for a ceremony myself.” I looked up to her entourage, “I hope you can see yourselves out.”

They all nodded, except Megan who looked shocked. “You can’t just leave me here! What if it happens again? I need you to stay at least another hour!” she demanded.

“Sorry, I can’t,” I argued with a fake smile while I grabbed my non-designer bag.

Once I had escaped the boundaries of the salon I headed to the work fridge and removed my salad. Then I finally clocked out and I high tailed it out of there like a rabbit running from a rabbid lion without looking back.

Screaming_rabbid1

It was close to five o’clock when I finally made it out to my car. Before starting the engine I sent Tangerae’ a text telling her I was on my way.

Fifteen minutes later I made it to the memorial. There were probably close to 100 people still there, many of whom I didn’t recognize. Once I spotted Tangerae’, I waved and she came galloping in my direction with two beers in her hands.

“Here!” she said happily handing one to me.

“Thanks, I fucking need this after the day I have had,” I explained.

“I was wondering why you were so late!”

“I had the bride from hell! You won’t believe what…”

She cut me off, “Look at that guy over there!” she said pointing to a man who looked a decade younger than she was. “He must have been friends with Redbeard, do you know him? What’s his name?” she asked me.

“No, sorry. I don’t.”

“Damn! I want to find out! He’s hot! I need a reason to talk to him.”

“Tangerae’! We are at a funeral! You can’t pick up some random guy at a funeral!” I lectured.

“I know, but this isn’t really a funeral, it’s just a memorial.”

“A memorial is the funeral, this is the only thing the family has planned. It’s the same thing! We are here to mourn Redbeard!”

“We are here to celebrate Redbeard and I want to celebrate with that hunk between my thighs!”

“He’s like 12!” I lectured.

“No, he’s drinking a beer. He’s at least 21 Asterisk. Oh my God! Look! He has a turtle! That’s my way in!”

“Wait, what?”

Before I could even argue Tangerae’ was already walking in his direction. I had no choice but to follow.

“Oh my God! Is that your turtle? What’s his name? Can I hold him?” she asked while batting her eye lashes.

“His name is Fred. Sure you can hold him.”

Tangerae’ turned to me, “Isn’t he cute Asterisk? Do you want to hold him?”

I rolled my eyes, “No Tangerae’. Turtles carry salmonella!”

“Actually, that’s a myth,” Tangerae’s new man candy interrupted us. “Only water turtles are infectious.”

“You are so smart!” Tangerae’ giggled. “Whats your name?”

“I’m Josh.”

“Hi Josh. How did you know Redbeard?”

Their conversation was making me want to vomit. Instead of subjecting myself to anymore of it I marched my salad over to a picnic bench and unwrapped it then dressed it with the oil & vinegar I had brought with me. Fatigued having missed lunch, I piled a bunch onto a plate, sat down in front of it and stuffed my face.

Once I was finished, I opened up my bag and fished out a cigarette. I attempted to light it but my lighter was out of fluid and wouldn’t ignite. Feeling frustrated I looked around for my friend. That’s when it happened.

A giant furry hand reached out and lit it for me.

After taking a puff I looked up at his goofy face.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

“Eh, no problemo,” he said before running up to a group of his friends.

My attention was quickly diverted to the platter containing the rest of my salad. A group of people were picking up the sliced sections of tomato, basil and cheese and placing them on top of burgers.

“Oh, no! That’s a salad! It has vinegar and…” I stopped mid explanation after a tattooed middle-aged woman gave me the death stare.

Whatever, I had already eaten what I wanted from it, if they were going to ruin their burgers with vinegar and basil, that was their business. It wasn’t worth getting beat up for.

I walked over to an ice chest in hopes of another bottle of beer and found completely empty.

Damn it!

Just as I was feeling the disappointment of having no more liquor to consume, Tangerae’ joined me.

“Is there any more beer?” I asked her, hopefully.

“I don’t think so. This thing is pretty much wrapped up. I did get Josh’s number though!”

“Josh?”

“Fred, the turtle’s daddy!” she reminded me.

“Fred, the turtle? You mean his owner? The boy?”

“Man!” she corrected me. “Yes! he’s taking me out next Sunday!” she confessed excitedly.

“Great. Good for you.”

Just then I noticed the fuzzy hand guy who had lit my cigarette again. He was sitting on a bench and his hairy butt crack was showing.

Tangerae’ noticed him at the same time. “Why are you staring at that nerd? You are going to pick up a guy too, aren’t you?” she heckled me.

“Shut up, bitch,” I ordered.

Now I must confess, even though the guy was a goon there was something about him. Some kind of energy that I was picking up from him.

Redbeard’s sister approached us and divulged the grim details concerning the loss of our dear friend and her older brother.

“Redbeard’s roommate called me around seven o’clock on Tuesday morning. He said that Redbeard was on the ground in the bathroom and not moving. I got into my car and made it their apartment not ten minutes after the call. I don’t even remember the drive itself. Just walking in and seeing him there. ‘Redbeard! Redbeard!’ I screamed at him but he didn’t move. His eyes were wide open and staring at me but they were empty. I tried to shake him and still there was nothing. No movement.”

She began to tear up, “I was so scared, I kicked him in his ribs as hard as I could and he was stiff as a board. I just knew he was dead. There was a needle on the floor, his roommate was high as a kite and took off as I was calling 911. What a piece of shit! I blame him Asterisk! Redbeard had been sober for over a year! It was that piece of shit roommate who got him using again! He’s lucky he didn’t have the nerve to show up here today! If I ever see him again, I swear Ill kill him myself!”

I didn’t know what to say or how to console her and instead continued to stare blankly across the park at the gooney guy. Everything seemed in slow motion as I watched him jump up and down.  He did some kind of impression and scrunched up his face in a really awkward way, trying to make his friends laugh. It worked and I could see the bunch of them cracking up.

I stood up, hugged Redbeard’s sister goodbye and promised to meet her for lunch very soon. Taqngerae’ and I walked back to our cars together.

I picked my son up from the sitter and drove us back home. After feeding him dinner I gave him a bath and put him to bed for the night. Once he was asleep, I poured myself a glass of merlot and sat out on my back porch sipping it and smoking a cigarette.

The moon was bright and I could see bunches of white clouds. I zoned out into them as memories of the years I spent with Redbeard flooded through my head. Even though we were just friends when he had died, we had dated on and off for many years. He had been my first love and my closest friend and I was devastated.

Once I had put out my cigarette, I went back inside and logged onto my computer. I went onto Redbeard’s Myspace page and cried over his last blog post. It was a poem dedicated to his wife who had passed a year prior. I looked through his most recent photo album and smiled at some of his last photographs. Then I went onto his wall and discovered message after message from friends in the last few days since his passing.

That’s when I saw it.

A letter of condolences to Redbeard’s family was left from the gooney guy.

I clicked on his picture and was directed to the goon’s page. His name was Morthos. Suddenly I felt it again, that same intense energy from earlier. Overwhelmed, I clinked on the instant message link and began typing.

“Hi, I’m that girl whose cigarette you lit at the memorial earlier.”

My heart began to pound as I waited. For some reason I was nervous, yet still hopeful that he would message me back.

I didn’t have to wait long.

Only seconds had passed before he responded, “Hello. I remember you.”

“How did you know Redbeard?” I enquired.

“We worked together. He kinda’ took me under his wing. Pretty crazy isn’t it? I had laughed with him Monday night at work, then I went in on Tuesday morning and he didn’t show up. I didn’t find out what had happened until later that night. Our boss took the entire staff into a meeting to tell us…I mean, he was here Monday and then gone Tuesday, just like that.”

“He was supposed to come over to my house on Monday night, but didn’t,” I confessed.

“Why not?”

“He was supposed to come by for some drinks but didn’t have a ride. I told him I could pick him up but he would have to crash on the couch because I wasn’t going to drive after, especially because I have a baby. I keep wondering what would have happened if I had convinced him to just stay. He was so insistent that he had to be home by ten that night. I guess the drugs must have been why, I had no idea he was using.”

“Neither did I. It must have been a one time relapse. Statistics actually show a lot of people die that way. They clean up and then for whatever reason, go back, and take a huge amount not realizing that they have to rebuild their tolerances.”

“I have heard that. I lost another friend to the same thing a few years back,” I admitted. “Though I keep thinking it was intentional, suicide. He hasn’t been the same since his wife died. Maybe he wanted to come see me to say goodbye.”

“It’s a sad thing. No matter how you look at it.”

I sat in silence for a few minutes reading over our conversation. The energy I was feeling towards this guy intensified.

“Hey Morthos,” I sent.

“Ya?”

“Do you want to get together sometime, maybe share some stories.”

“That would be fun.”

“Where do you live?” I asked.

“Between Boulder and Crenshaw. You?”

“Shut up! Me too! What street? I’m on Grand,” my fingers speedily typed.

“No way! I’m on Silver Court. Two minutes away, tops!”

“How about now? I just opened a bottle of wine.”

All of a sudden the conversation stopped. My heart pounded away even harder than it had when I first messaged him. Immediately I become engulfed with embarrassment and regret. I was too forward, I bet he thought I was a freak. We barely met and already I had invited him into my house. He knew I had a baby, I hadn’t dated in over a year, pretty much since the pregnancy had begun. Maybe women with babies freaked him out.

Then just as I was about to turn off my computer and call Tangerae’ to tell her what stupid thing I had done he messaged me back.

“Sorry, had a phone call. Ya, I can come by. What’s your address?”

HOLY SHIT.

I typed it out and I waited. Ten minutes later there was a knock on my door. Placing my eye in the peep-hole, I saw Morthos standing there. Nervously I opened.

“Hey!” he said with a goofy smile and a small wave.

“Hi,” I said back, shyly forgetting to move out of the doorway.

When it hit me that I was still standing there I let out a nervous giggle and moved to let him inside.

“Have a seat, let me get you a glass of wine.”

As Morthos sat down I walked into the kitchen and grabbed the glasses and wine bottle. I placed both down on my coffee table and sat next to my nerd.

My body was trembling as he began to talk and I could tell his was as well. Eventually the tension broke as both of us shared stories of our departed friend. Some were sad and others hilarious. Before I knew it several hours had gone by and it was well past midnight.

Morthos saw me glance at the clock, “It’s getting late, I should probably go.”

“Oh, do you have to be up early tomorrow?” I inquired.

“No, I’m working a late shift actually, did you want me to stay?”

We locked eyes and before I even knew what was happening his lips were pressed up against mine. The moment I felt his soft warm tongue in my mouth I literally melted inside and could feel my own wetness between my thighs. Morthos took his hand and gently placed it on the back of my neck and ever so gently wrapped his fingers in my hair before slowly guiding my body down onto the couch.

The sexual energy was magnetic.

We continued kissing for several minutes.

When I had all I could take, I pushed him off of me and stood up.

Morthos looked a little scared, “What’s the matter, did I do something wrong? Is everything okay? I didn’t mean to be too forward.”

I placed my fingers to my lips and shushed him. Then I gave him a devious smile and grabbed him by his wrist, pulling him into my bedroom. Once inside, I gently pushed him onto my bed and pulled my dress up over my head, discarding it onto the floor. Wearing nothing but a black push up bra, thong panties and a pair of heels I straddled my nerd. Reaching down I unbuttoned his pants before pulling them off of him completely. Once they were removed, I reached for his boxers and he stopped me.

I wasn’t giving up that easy and decided to change direction. I slipped off my bra and then planted another hot kiss onto his mouth while pressing my almost bare crotch onto his hard, fabric covered erection and slowly began gyrating. Once he had started to moan, I reached back for his boxers a second time.

This time he slapped my hand before taking it away and securing it above my head.

20140703_222252

“What?” I whispered.

“Not yet.”

He placed his other hand onto my hip, strongly forcing my wet panty clad pussy onto his also still concealed man part. As the friction continued so did my anticipation and before I could stop it, I came all over myself soaking both my panties and his boxers.

“Did you just get off?” he asked.

20140703_222138

My face turned bright red in embarrassment and I dropped dead weight on top of him shielding my eyes with my hands.

“Don’t be embarrassed! That was great. I didn’t know I could do that to a girl!”

“Oh my God! I thought we were going to…”

“No way. We just met,” he schooled me.

“Well, ya I know, but..”

“Next time,” he interrupted.

“Oh.”

I rolled off of him and in turn he rolled back on top of me, kissed my forehead and then got up reaching for his pants.

“I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promised.

“But you don’t have my number,” I reminded him.

“Message it to me.”

I watched him as he left, holding my dress in front of me concealing my body. The next morning, I messaged him my number as he had told me to do, not expecting a reply. However, a few minutes after, he sent me a text wishing me good morning.  We chatted throughout the day and I invited him over for dinner the following night.

I didn’t know it yet but I was about to embark in some of the most incredible and magical sex I’d ever experience.

But of course, that’s another story!

Neener Neener!

 

——————————————————————————————————————————————————–

 

Buy my damn book here!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

20 thoughts on “Cock Rocks Memorial

  1. It’s a well known fact no good story ever began with two people eating a salad, but you managed to do it at a frikkin funeral. That day you were not so much on a slippery slope as you were over the edge of a cliff. You worked hard enough to get laid but ended with a self serve slush puppy. Too bad. Really, too bad! Where were you back in the day when I was buying lobster dinners and being sent home with JO instructions. You know, put your left hand in and shake it all about… Do the herky jerky twist it all about. I’m enjoying your stories, you’re first class.

  2. I love my 25-year old nerdboytoy. Tons of fun and he loves his 43-year old cougar. Checking to see if you’ve written more about him. 🙂

What do YOU have to say about this? Comment here!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s