The Head Nod Ch. 02

1.

Abby rang the doorbell and waited nervously.

Am I at the right house? she thought.

She could hear voices and music in the background. But it was Saturday night, after all, and that had been the case at nearly every house between here and her car.

The front door opened, and she was greeted by a tall, tanned dudebro who had shaggy hair, but a clean-shaven face. His shirt was only half-buttoned, showing off a long flat, hairless torso. He wasn't wearing any shoes.

"Heh. Hey," the dudebro said. His arms were long and took up the entire doorway.

"Um... hi," Abby said. "I'm looking for..." She froze. She was a guest of a guest and realized that she didn't know the name of the host. For all she knew, this was him.

Does this guy know who Brooklynn is?

"My name is Abby...?"

The dudebro stopped her. "It's her," he said over his shoulder.

A woman's voice belted out from behind him. "'From the East to the West, they scream and shout!" Abby's eyes lit up as Brooklynn emerged with a drink in her hand, shouting a cheer from their high school days. "'Ask them what they talkin' about!'"

"Whatchu talkin' 'bout!'"

"Willis!"

"Whatchu talkin' 'bout!"

"Willis!"

"Whatchu talkin' 'bout!"

"Willis! Willis!" Abby finished. The two women screamed and embraced each other, rocking wildly from side to side.

"It's so good to see you!" Abby squeed.

"I know, it's been like, forever, right?" Brooklynn said. "Let me look at you." She pulled back from their embrace and twirled Abby like a music box ballerina. She nodded approvingly. "Still Abby after all these years."

"Gosh, thanks," Abby said. "You look great, of course. Have you been eating nothing but kale and avocadoes out here?"

"Avocados are actually not that great for you," Brooklynn said. "Pretty fatty."

"Hey, Brooks," the dudebro interjected, a grin creeping onto his face. "You gonna introduce us?" His voice was flat with a west coast drawl. He stared at Abby's chest when he spoke about her, as though her tits were pronouns. His eyes looked as though he'd been in the middle of a nap.

"Abby, Mark. Mark, Abby."

"Nice to meet you," Abby said with her customary spunkiness, crossing her arms.

"Christ, Dude," Brooklynn said to Mark. She elbowed him lightly in the stomach, breaking his gaze.

"Wha-h-hut?" Mark said, chuckling.

She turned back to Abby. "C'mon. Let's mingle." She looked up at Mark's face. He stepped away from the doorway to allow the ladies to pass. Brooklynn hooked Abby's arm and led her through the house, up to the roof to join the rest of the party.

2.

A DJ played music but nobody danced. The guests were more or less just... hanging out. It was all very low-key. Indeed, Mark was not out of place in his almost-outfit. Everyone seemed to sport a similar look, down to the shagginess, as though the party had caught them all by surprise and it had been easier to simply stick around. Brooklynn herself wore only a flowy sundress, showing more skin than not. She was loose and fluid, moving through the crowd like smoke and taking Abby along for the ride.

They returned to a waiting section of people.

"Alright, alright, alright," Brooklynn announced. "Class, this is my friend. Abby."

"Hiii, Aaa-by," they all said in unison.

"Abby, this is Morgan, Trevor, Lourdes, and Yuri." She pointed to each person as she named them. Abby waved and said hello to each new face.

"Are you also from Iowa?" Yuri asked.

"Ohio," Abby corrected.

"He knows that," Brooklynn said. "He's just being an asshole." She waved at Yuri, making out to hit him. He squealed, slap-box-play-fighting in return, with Lourdes cheering them both on. Abby was taken aback and she moved out of the way. So much was suddenly happening.

A mellow voice broke through the noise. "It's nice to meet you, Abby," Trevor said.

"Oh... uh, you too," she said, taking his hand. Trevor wore a polo shirt, tucked in, and was the only one in the group sipping his drink from a proper bar glass. He was also the only Black guy Abby had seen at the party so far.

"What brings you to L.A.?" he asked.

Brooklynn pulled Yuri's cap over his eyes, thereby winning their bout. "Abby's going to be joining us at Mercer," she said.

"Go Kiwis!" they all cheered. All except Abby.

"She starts Monday," Brooklynn finished.

"Are you a teacher, Abby?" Morgan asked.

"I don't know about that," Abby said with a nervous laugh. The group followed suit.

"Abby's going to be taking over 12th grade English," Brooklynn said.

"Ohhhhh," the others said.

That was one way of putting it. Though in no way did Abby feel prepared to "take over" anything.

"Do not worry," Lourdes said. "They are seniors. They are mostly potty-trained."

"Do you all teach at Mercer as well?" Abby asked.

"Sí. Español," Lourdes said.

"Film Studies," Trevor said. "Department chair."

"Maths," Morgan said, emphasizing the "s," eager for Abby to ask why.

Yuri stuck his chest out and dropped to one knee. "Drrrrama!" he declared, twisting the end of his mustache. They all applauded accordingly.

"Let's get you a drink," Morgan said. "Shots?" she asked the group.

"Shots?" Yuri said, shrugging.

"Shots," Brooklynn said, nodding.

Abby held up her hand. "Oh, no thank you. I'm not much of a drinker. Not the hard stuff, anyway."

They all looked at each other, then burst out laughing. All except Abby.

"You really aren't a teacher, are you?" Morgan said.

Morgan and Brooklynn gathered shots, while Trevor procured a glass of wine for Abby. With everyone armed, they raised their drinks to the newest member of the Mercer family.

"To Abby," Lourdes said.

"Good luck on Monday," Morgan said.

"And good luck with the Twins," Yuri added under his breath.

"The what?" Abby asked.

"Nothing," Brooklynn said. "Welcome to Mercer."

"Go Kiwis!" they said.

"...Kiwis," Abby trailed.

Over the next hour, the group conversed, laughing loudly at several points. When the conversation threatened to spiral into bitching about students or parents, Brooklynn declared a moratorium on all "shop talk." They broke off into various pairing as the topics shifted.

Abby didn't say much. To her, they were all so quick. Every comment was a chance to top the last. To be wittier than the other person. They talked about politics and religion and sex with such openness in mixed company, never running short on opinions.

Morgan explained the statistical probability of surviving a zombie attack.

"It's not a matter of if," she said. "But when!"

Lourdes and Yuri dished about the men they were both seeing. Both in finance. Both named Rick.

Trevor tried to convince Brooklynn of the underlying racism of the Rocky film franchise.

"But what about the one with the Russian?" she asked.

"You mean the one where an even whiter boxer beats the Black guy to death?" Trevor asked.

Nobody once mentioned the weather. Or the Browns.

I'm definitely not home anymore , Abby thought.

At one point, Brooklynn grabbed Abby's hand. "C'mon," she told her. "We'll be right back," she said to the rest, who were wrapped up in their own lectures and gossip.

Brooklynn led Abby by the hand through the crowds once more. This time, she pulled her into a bedroom downstairs, shutting the door behind them.

3.

Back at the Willis School for Girls, Abby and Brooklynn had been a notorious pair. Teammates, lab partners, running buddies, co-stars. Best friends. They'd been drawn by their mutual love of black-and-white sitcoms and all things apple-cinnamon, and by their awkwardness and their shared ability to hide just how painfully weird they were. They both grew up as "the only child." And both had mothers who were always so "concerned" that their daughters didn't know how pretty they could be "if only Abby would lose five pounds," or "if Brooklynn would just trim those wild curls of hers."

But it had been almost ten years since they'd seen each other, having lost touch after Brooklynn headed out West for college without looking back. Then, out of the blue, Brooklynn contacted Abby with news of a job opening at Mercer, where Brooklynn was the school's guidance counselor. For Abby, who'd been in recovery mode for so long, the call had come right on time. She laughed to herself now, thinking about how easily Brooklynn had gotten her to come to California. This time.

"Your friends seem nice," Abby said.

"Yeah, they're a fun bunch," Brooklynn said. "You having a good time?"

"I am," Abby said, almost too cheerfully.

Brooklynn reached into her pocket and pulled out a green plastic tube. She popped it open and slid a thick joint into her palm.

"Brooklynn," Abby hissed. "Is that pot? You can't smoke pot at these people's house."

"Tell me about it," Brooklynn said. "Greedy bunch of motherfuckers around here." She pulled out a lighter.

"Goodness," Abby groaned. She looked around. This room definitely belonged to a guy. There were dumbbells scattered on the floor. And sneakers. Big sneakers. There was an open gym bag on the messy bed. Abby retrieved a towel from inside it and bunched it at the bottom of the bedroom door. Then she headed to the window and opened it as wide as it would go.

Brooklynn watched attentively as Abby scurried about, preparing the room.

"Teamwork," Brooklynn said, placing the joint between her lips. She sparked it and took a couple of long hits, blowing a thick cloud of smoke out the window.

"What do you think about Trevor?" Brooklynn asked.

"Trevor? He's nice, I guess," Abby said. "What do you mean?"

Brooklynn gave her a sly smile. "I think he's into you," she said.

"Please. That stuff clearly works fast," Abby said, pointing to the joint.

Inhale...

"Don't tell me you didn't noticed, Abby."

...Exhale.

"He was totally flirting with you," she continued.

"I'm sure he was," Abby said.

Brooklynn lowered her voice to sound like a man. "'If you need anything, Abby, uh... feel free to stop by my classroom. I'll be happy to, uh... be of assistance.'"

"Shut-up," Abby said, slapping Brooklynn's leg.

"You should go for it," Brooklyn said.

"I don't think so," Abby said.

"What? Cuz he's Black?"

Abby raised her eyebrows. "Brooklynn!" she said in a stage whisper. "C'mon."

Abby failed to mention the mysterious mover who'd shown up at her door in the middle of the night, who'd fucked her into the best sleep she'd had in months, but who'd vanished by the time she awoke in the morning. She'd been convinced at first that it had all been a dream. But there'd been the wet sheets, her pjs still balled up poolside, and the light soreness, like the day after an especially deep massage. Just thinking about how Clay had so expertly gone down on her the night before...

"Well," Abby said. "Trevor wouldn't be the first Black guy to ever... approach me."

"You know what it is, don't you?" Brooklynn said. "It's that badonk you got back there."

Abby gasped and turned bright red. "Brooklynn!"

She was reminded of her encounter at the coffee shop.

"I'm serious. Black guys can't resist a nice round boo-tay," Brooklynn said. She gave Abby a wink and took another hit.

Inhale...

"Oh, and how would you know that, pray tell?" Abby asked.

"Because I actually got out of Shaker Heights, that's how," Brooklynn said.

...Exhale.

They sat in silence for a while, both looking out the window, longingly, as though planning an escape.

"Thanks, Brooklynn," Abby said. "You know. For everything."

Brooklynn turned to Abby, leaned in, and brushed a strand of hair out of Abby's eyes. She grabbed hold of Abby's face and gave her a peck on her lips, light, but full-lipped. Then she released her grip and took another hit.

Inhale...

She held the joint out to Abby, a trail of smoke dancing atop its cherry.

Abby shot her a look of disbelief, "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

...Exhale.

"Hey," Brooklynn said, smoke trickling from her mouth as she spoke. "I didn't bring you all this way to be good."

4.

Abby had only gotten high once before. With Brooklynn, in fact. But what they smoked out here in California was something different entirely ("What do you mean you have a 'prescription'?" Abby had asked.). The two women cracked each other up with bad jokes and half-told stories. Brooklynn finished most of the joint herself, with help from a reluctant Abby. When she was done, she carefully spit on the tip of the roach, coating it completely, before discarding it out the window.

Brooklynn checked her phone. They'd been gone for over half an hour.

"Oh shit, those fools have been texting me," Brooklynn said, her voice thicker than before. "We should head back up."

"Where's the bathroom?" Abby asked, squinting hard.

Brooklynn nodded her head to a door at the back of the bedroom.

"You head on up," Abby said "I've got to..." She snapped her fingers, looking for the words. She gave up and simply pointed to the bathroom door.

"Gotcha," Brooklynn said.

This made them both snort with laughter.

Abby shuffled off, blowing an audible kiss in Brooklynn's direction.

Once in the bathroom, Abby closed the door and kept the lights off. She turned on the faucet and splashed her face with cold water, blinking repeatedly. She switched off the water and dabbed her face dry with the nearest towel.

The bedroom door opened. Followed by a man's voice. It was muffled, but she assumed it belonged to the owner of the bedroom. She was sure it still smelled like pot in there. They were busted, for sure.

Omigosh, omigosh, omigosh , Abby thought.

She held her ear to the bathroom door. She still couldn't make out what the man was saying, but after he spoke, Abby heard Brooklynn's voice. She was laughing. Then, so was he. At that, Abby relaxed. Whatever Brooklynn was saying, it seemed she had things under control. Naturally.

Still Brooklynn after all these years.

Both the man's and Brooklynn's voices fell increasingly lower, until it became difficult for Abby to distinguish between them and the other party guests scattered throughout the house. Finally, deciding that she had waited long enough, Abby convinced herself that the room was empty and that this guy, and maybe Brooklynn, too, had gone back to the party. Abby carefully opened the bathroom door.

Right away, she saw why she hadn't heard any more talking.

Brooklynn sat atop a dresser with her legs wrapped around Mark, the dudebro who'd greeted Abby at the front door. He was stripped down to his cargo shorts, Brooklynn holding onto his naked arms and his back, his tall frame holding her body in place. They were kissing hard and wildly, sucking and biting on each other's lips, necks, and chins, breathing in grunts and growls.

Abby ducked back into the bathroom. But she didn't close the door.

Not completely.

Abby watched Mark's hands creep all over Brooklynn. Her arms, her shoulders, her waist, her legs. All the parts he could reach. And when he was done with those, he crept underneath her dress, which was already hiked up. Brooklynn's panties peaked through as Mark's fingers spread across her bottom, pulling her whole body closer into his.

As he pulled her in, rubbing his groin against her own, her moaning increased. She took out her pleasure on Mark's mouth, until he yelped suddenly, and loudly, causing Abby to flinch from her vantage point. Mark pushed off of Brooklynn and stomped around the room, holding his bottom lip.

"Got-dammit!" he spat. There was violence in his face. He checked for blood and stared at Brooklynn sitting atop the dresser, smiling back at him.

As he lunged for Brooklynn, snarling with a stiff hand ("You stupid bit..."), she wound back and whacked him hard, open-hand across his face. Mark stumbled to a knee. The surprise of it even sent Abby spinning, the sound of skin on skin filling the room.

Before Mark could respond, Brooklynn got to her feet and slapped him again, in the same spot, harder, this time knocking him fully to the floor.

Abby threw her hand to her mouth to suppress a gasp. Brooklynn was not a large woman. Smaller than Abby, in fact. Definitely smaller than Mark, who himself was tall and fit. Had he successfully taken a swing at Brooklynn, it's safe to assume he would have done some damage.

But you'd never know that now, with Mark on the floor holding his hot face, Brooklynn standing over him, in her sundress, shaking the sting out of her fingers.

Then her mouth turned up to a sharp, grin. Her thick laugh spilled from between her teeth.

"C'mon, now" she said. "You can do it."

Mark staggered to his feet.

"That's it," Brooklynn said. "Stand up straight. Arms at your side."

Mark obliged, dropping his long arms. Even from the bathroom, through a crack in the door, Abby could see the handprints Brooklynn had left on his face.

"Continue," Brooklynn said.

Mark unfastened his belt, unzipped his shorts, and let them fall to the floor. He tugged on the waistband of his knit boxers, raising his eyebrows, questioning.

Brooklynn nodded Yes.

And Mark pulled down his boxers.

A soft Mm snuck past Abby's lips. Despite the look of distress on Mark's face, he appeared to be nearly erect.

Brooklynn appeared at once pleased. Then just as fast, all warmth fell from her face.

"Go," she said.

On cue, Mark lifted his cock into his hand. He massaged its shaft and rubbed the head. He seized it by its base and pulled forward. Back and forth.

"Faster," Brooklynn said.

Until it was full and hard enough to stand straight on its own.

"Faster."

Mark obliged. Pumping and panting. Tightening. Muscles and veins cut grooves into his chest and neck and his broad swimmer's shoulders.

"Faster."

And the faster and harder he beat himself, the more defined he became, until his entire body had transformed into an erection threatening to explode.

"Stop," Brooklynn said.

Mark froze. Cock in hand. Held his breath. And waited.

Brooklynn stood watching him, forcing him to wear the silence.

Slowly...

Brooklynn pulled her sundress over her waist, her panties now in full sight.

Slowly...

Brooklynn pulled the dress up higher. Past her chest. Her small breasts were wrapped in a black, strapless bra.

Slowly...

Brooklynn removed the dress completely. She shook out her curls and tossed the dress to the side. She ran her hands all over her lean body and adjusted her under garments.

"Fuck," Mark cried out desperately. He jerk off again as though he had no control, aiming his erection at Brooklynn.

"Hey!" Brooklynn snapped. "What did I say?"

Mark halted once again. It was clearly getting more difficult each time.

From behind the bathroom door, Abby couldn't turn away. And she couldn't help but feel turned on. Maybe her encounter with Clay had left her... curious.

Maybe it was the command that Brooklynn demonstrated, not just over Mark, but over the whole situation. Over her own body, and Abby's too.

Maybe it was the pot.

But when Brooklynn ordered Mark to stop, Abby wanted nothing more than to start.

She sat on the edge of the bathtub. She looked around as though she weren't alone (as though someone were watching her) and hiked up her own dress. She reached between her legs and rubbed her fingers over the front of her panties.

She watched intently as Brooklynn stepped closer to a waiting Mark, still holding his cock, visibly trembling. She was nearly on top of him now, as close as she could be without actually touching him. And she made a clear effort not to touch him. Mark's body shuddered at the closeness. With his free hand, he reached out for her, but she swatted him away.