Unfortunate Friends 4: Secret Lives
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Ruth Robinson
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25
Chapter 1
CARRIE
I always felt different growing up.
I never felt like I really fit in anywhere.
When other little girls my age were inside playing with Barbie dolls, I was out in the sandbox with the boys, giggling over nudie photos stolen from their dads’ Playboy magazines.
When other girls were whispering and giggling about their crushes on the new boy in class, I was more interested in the shiny new snake we had gotten that year as a class pet.
When other girls were experimenting with makeup and going on cringeworthy first dates, worrying about their first kisses, I was…alone.
I used to blame my folks for treating me like the de facto babysitter, but the truth was…I was just a weird kid.
Or so I thought.
You see, when my school friends were going dreamy eyed over boys, I didn’t realize that I was having those same feelings too, because it was a girl who was my first crush.
At night, when I would roll onto my stomach and rub that special place that made me feel really good, it was always a story about kissing a girl that I told myself.
But that wasn’t a normal thing to do…was it?
Nobody had ever really talked about being gay when I was a kid.
And if it was mentioned, it was almost always in connection with a guy.
I’d never even heard the word lesbian until I was trawling the internet unsupervised one night and came across some very enlightening videos.
Even though I didn’t think my folks—or siblings—would make a big deal out of it, I never had the courage to tell any of them what I was beginning to suspect about myself.
So, when a guy did finally ask me out to my senior prom, I said yes.
And when he asked if I wanted to go back to the hotel that everyone was staying in afterward, I said yes.
And even when he produced a key to a room along with a sheepish grin and a confession of having bought a pack of condoms “just in case”…I said yes.
Typical teenage kicks and all that jazz.
But now I’m an adult.
Now, I am in charge of my life.
Now…I am hesitating on the somewhat severe-looking concrete steps that lead to the very first gay club I am, possibly…maybe?…going to enter.
All around me, the milling, excited buzz of other clubgoers swirls.
A kind-looking man, with beautifully smooth dark-brown skin, an invitingly wide, gleaming smile, and perfectly made-up eyes, stops next to me and gently touches my elbow.
“Hey, honey, your first time?”
“What gave it away?” I joke, trying to muster a smile.
He cackles, slipping his hand into mine and squeezing it gently.
“Having second thoughts?”
“And third and fourth… Does it get easier?” I search his almost black irises for some kind of answer.
“Oh, honey! You sometimes just have to rip the band-aid off and jump straight in. It might not be for you, but that’s okay! At least you tried it. Are you here alone?”
He starts to lead me up the steps, waving and blowing a kiss at the bouncer as I nod.
He pats the back of my hand reassuringly.
“Stick with me and I’ll make sure you have a good time.”
***
My new friend—and self-proclaimed mentor—is an actual Nigerian prince.
And Adebayo loves to tell the story.
“No shit! Some little village in the middle of Nigeria has me, a raging queen, as their prince! They would be so disappointed to see me out on the town wearing my jaunty little tiara!”
He’s gorgeous; all long, slender limbs draped in sensual materials, topped with the sharp lines of an incredibly handsome face emphasized with perfect makeup and the smoothest shaved head I’ve ever touched.
I envy the way he carries himself, the way he seems totally at home in his own skin.
And if I could wear a dress like him, I might be tempted to wear one every now and then!
Adebayo—or Adie as everyone knows him—is the heart and soul of the disco.
He doesn’t let me sit still for more than a couple of minutes.
He’s either dragging me onto the dance floor, to the bar, or doing a lap to meet people.
I’ve met more LGBTQ+ people in one walk around the club than I think I’ve probably met in my whole life!
I finally excuse myself to the bathroom.
I’m feeling buzzed, not only from the couple of strangely named cocktails I’ve had, but from finally starting to feel like there might be somewhere I belong.
Looking at myself in the long mirror that stretches over the top of the hand basins, I barely recognize myself; my skin is flushed, and my usually perfectly kept pompadour haircut is looking a little worse for wear.
But my eyes… My eyes finally look alive.
“Sorry, excuse me.”
A soft giggle comes from the sink next to me as someone gently bumps into my arm.
“I think I should maybe rethink wearing such high heels when I go out!”
“Yeah, that’s why I stick to Doc Martens,” I start, but the rest of my words melt away when I look at the woman next to me.
She is maybe an inch or two taller than me in her heels and has long, curly hair that cascades over her shoulders and brushes against the top of the gentle swell of her ass.
Her lips are the palest pink against her tanned skin, her smile freer than any I think I’ve ever given.
But it’s her eyes that captivate me.
They are large, slightly upturned at the edges, and the most vivid shade of green I’ve ever seen on an actual human being.
“Well, I think if I’m going to come back here again, I’ll need to do the same!”
She turns toward me as she dries her hands on a paper towel, offering me a dry one with another blinding smile.
“I’m Riri.”
“Carrie,” I reply, accepting the paper towel with a shy smile.
“So, is this one of your usual haunts?” she asks.
“The bathroom? No.”
I grin, delighted when she giggles again—the noise is like twinkling fairy lights and braying unicorns.
I’m fucking smitten already.
We walk out of the bathroom, still talking—yes, I actually manage to keep a conversation going with this woman.
Adie gives me a double thumbs up when he sees.
I flash him a small grin in return as Riri slips her hand into mine.
“Oh! I love this song! We have to dance!”
***
The rest of the night flies past with me wrapped up in Riri.
She is funny and sweet, an amazing dancer, and knows how to make me relax and enjoy myself.
Before I know it, the bar is calling for last orders.
“Well, I guess that’s my cue to go!” Riri pouts as she walks over to collect her bag and coat from the cloakroom. “I’ve had an amazing time with you tonight, Carrie.”
Feeling brave, I take her hands and pull her closer.
Her lips are soft—softer than the couple of men I’ve kissed over the years while still pretending to be straight.
She sighs, her mouth opening slightly, giving me access.
She tastes of the fruity cocktails she’s been drinking all night and just…her.
My hands move from hers up her arms, down her back, finding her waist and pulling her closer still.
I feel her wind her own arms around my shoulders, her fingers creeping up into the short hairs on the back of my head, her nails scratching a little on my scalp, making goosebumps run down my spine.
A jolt of excitement warms me as our breasts rub together, and I can feel the hard outline of her nipples grazing against mine even through the thin cotton shirt I am wearing and the shiny satin dress she has on.
All too soon, she pulls back, pressing a couple of chaste pecks against my lips with a groan.
“Well, you were an unexpected bonus to my night,” she says.
“Can I get your number?” I blurt out, my cheeks heating up as she gives me a sultry smile.
“If it’s meant to be, we’ll meet again.”
She presses her lips to my forehead, and I think I hear her sigh.
With a coy flutter of her fingers, she’s gone.
I stand, unsure what to do with myself now.
“Hon-ey!” Adie slips his arms around my shoulders, pulling me back into his embrace. “She was very sexy. Good going for your first little foray! You seeing her again?”
“No.” I pout a little. “She didn’t give me her number. Said some shit about fate.”
“Ah, well!” He shrugs, moving to my side and linking our arms together. “Her loss, girly. You can have my number instead.”
He grins, and I can’t help but feel lifted out of my blue mood, meeting his toothy grin with one of my own.
Well, my first trip into Wonderland ends in a magnificent kiss and what looks like it could become a good friendship.
Not too shabby, Carrie!
