Farewell and Hello

Hi friends. Those of you who have stuck by me...well you are just plain amazing. Clearly I have done some major moves and now I am on to another (me being me...not Louise). What started as a fictional blog about a San Francisco lesbian named Louise turned semi-autobiographical as I brought her to Los Angeles. Now I am moving to New York and I think it is time to just be real. So if you liked Louise or you like me please continue to follow the adventures.  I have moved to lezandthecity.tumblr.com and will chronicle my true adventures there. Louise lives on inside me and I always aspire to be that rad. Thanks for your loyalty and love. I hope you like me as much as you like her! Also be sure to add the twitter (@LezAndTheCity) and find me on facebook, etc. Love you guys. Wish me luck in the big apple!

Author's Programing Note

Hello my lovely faithful and/or semi-faithful followers!  On this glorious sunny day I am coming to you from the Abbey in Weho (aka West Hollywood, CA) where I live along with our heroine Louise.  I must apologize for the gaps and now lengthy pause in the lezventures of our girl.  Long story short (not an interesting long story anyway) life got in the way, but now it is no longer (I don't have a life? It got cooler? We shall see).  ANYlezzy, you can expect many more regular posts and the like.  Thanks for sticking with me, and Louise!

Here's to a ridiculous and fabulous summer.  Look forward to a new update very very soon.

Yours,

Anna

What Happens at Dinah, Stays at Dinah. Part 1.

Dinah Shore.  Two of the sweetest words a young lesbian can hear.  Two of the sweetest words she can experience.  And until she has experienced the Dinah, it seems like a mythological creature that has to be impossible: completely too good to be true.  Palm Springs heat, resorts full of hot, wild, and willing lesbians, pool parties, party after party after party, celesbians galore, live concerts by the likes of Gaga and Katy Perry....yeah right.  Well I hate to pop your bubble but...no I don’t hate to pop it.  This is all true.  Delightfully, wonderfully, outrageously true.

And so the first weekend in April, early on a Friday morning, we smashed our luggage into the trunk of Kim’s ridiculous yellow Mustang convertible and piled in, with mugs of spiked coffee and mimosas respectively.  Leah swiftly jumped into shotgun position with a mischievous smile through her mirrored aviators, her tattooed arms quickly buckling the belt, arresting any argument.  Ruth, Cecilia, and I squished into the back seat, with me in the middle aka. bitch.  About three hours later, after some epic sing-alongs, we pulled up to the Hilton  (where all the main pool parties were to take place).  Walking up the palm tree lined path to the hotel, there were lesbians everywhere.  Every.  Where.  Leah practically strutted up, stopping to do a full U-turn to check out a group of scantily-clad chicks prancing past.  When she caught me watching her, she grinned and held out her arms, We’ve arrived.  

Music was already pumping; Rihanna’s voice causing the sidewalks to throb with heat and promise.  We eagerly checked into our poolside suite, which we entered after making our way through throngs (THRONGS) of women in bikinis and other various states of undress (i.e.. heart shape stickers on their tits and boy shorts (!)).  

In the slightly tacky suite we threw our stuff down on our beds, Ruth and Cecilia having offered earlier to share one because of the odd number.  I had raised an eyebrow at this since I still not forgotten the infamous, not-to-be-spoken-of, Christmas party hook-up of ’07, but they ignored me while making plans not to “vagblock” each other.  I donned my canary yellow Chloé bikini and Louboutin espadrilles, Cecilia was in ruffled Marc Jacobs, and Kim’s skinny body slid easily into the barely there knit Missoni.  Ruth was label free, as per usual, but I spotted Leah’s sleek black Gucci string bikini a mile away.  She toned it down to her style with long ripped jean shorts.  I couldn’t help but let a corner of my mouth curve in approval.

Kim turned on “Imma Hot Chick” by the New Boys at full volume and started gyrating, while Ruth laughed and started ridiculously shaking her ass. Leah pulled a bottle of Patron out of her Diesel bag shouting Shots shots shots shots shots like the LMFAO song.  C cleared her throat, calling us to order, and gave her standby toast Here’s to looking good and being bad!   We all made faces but then happily obliged, downing multiple tequila shots.

After a proper in-room pre-game we left for the pool, where we stumbled into a wet t-shirt contest in progress.  Of course we immediately began nudging each other and pointing like overexcited teenage boys.  And then my jaw found its way to the floor.  There, in all of her wet, now transparent white shirt glory, was my boss, Margot.  Leah caught it at the same moment and turned to me, mouth also open and eyes wide.

Holy shit thats not your--

Yes.  Yes it is.  I replied, not taking my eyes off Margot as she shrieked and then let a equally soaked blonde pour rum down her throat.  Leah shook her head as if to clear it.  Kim, Ruth, and Cecilia had stopped dancing and stood, stunned into a freeze.  Kim provided the excellent commentary of Oh. My. God.  Margot tossed her short black hair and continued to bounce around the stage, her barely concealed breasts joining her in the party.  And then her cat-like topaz eyes fell on me in the crowd.  She grinned jauntily and kept dancing.  Leah chortled next to me.  Babe if you don’t hook that up...I just might have to.

To be continued.  Clearly.

Always,

Louise

Back in Black (and Gold)

I know I know I know.  It has been almost four long months.  I bet you never thought you would see me again.  That I had been lost in the abyss that is LA.  Happily, I can inform you that I am alive, if not a little the worse for wear.  I am back for keeps this time.  So much has happened a full recap would be excruciating.  So here it is in brief: the highlights:

JANUARY

After the episode with Margot my head was a mess.  I confessed all to Cecilia and Ruth while I was in Northern California for the holidays.   Where do I go from here?  Ruth was adamant that I talk to Margot, explain that it just wasn’t appropriate, and although I was very attracted to her, I just couldn’t go “there” because of work.  Cecilia was less black and white I could tell but she didn’t want to rock Ruth’s boat.  In any case, neither were very helpful.

I wanted Margot.  That was that.  But there was something I saw in her eyes that night, the eyes that initially drew me to her.  When she talked about “sleeping my way to the top” it didn’t seem like a joke.  There was something sinister in her eyes...even malicious.  I saw a darkness that could easily chew me up and spit me out, both physically and emotionally.  And career-wise.  Yet I knew I was already in too deep.  I couldn’t quit my job.  I couldn’t even quit Margot.

Originally I had planned on doing a San Francisco New Years with Ruth and C, except after a week up North I was suffocating.  So I convinced them to do a mini vacation.  We bumped my flight to LA up earlier and bought them last minute cheap seats, and hopped a flight, a heavily sedated Cat Called Wanda in tow (yes she finally made the move, I convinced the roomies!).  When we arrived at LAX New Year’s Eve morning it was about ten degrees warmer, and I was able to breathe ten times easier.

The girls checked into their penthouse at Chateau Marmont (I know right?  the beauty of Cecilia’s absentee parents is the guilty money they fling at her each holiday season).  What then followed was of course a ridiculous weekend with the girls as well as Kim, Leah, and even the usually M.I.A. Andi.

I finally returned to work after a long vacation.  Things where awkward with Margot.  I couldn’t look her in the eye...which probably was for the best.  She was utterly professional however, and pretended the whole thing had never happened.  However, I have once again been relegated to silent coffee fetcher and reader, much to Karen’s delight.  I have been keeping my head down and doing my work.  There is unfinished business here but I just can’t deal with it at the moment.  

FEBRUARY

For once in my life I got off work early.  Ruth was in town (minus Cecilia) for a work conference.  When I unlocked the door I was greeted by Kim (of course) who flung herself immediately into my arms, tears streaming down her cheeks, A Cat Called Wanda in her arms.  A muffled meow rang out in protest between our bodies.  Ruth was close behind her.

Oh jesus Louise I am so glad you are home early!  Andi left!  She just fucking left!  We are over!  Like WTF?  Kim blubbered.

Her face was red and blotchy; her light blue eyes huge, the whites tinged pink as she looked at me, glazed over in sadness.

What happened Kim?

She just said she was done!  She said she wasn’t happy.  I don’t fucking know.  She already moved her shit.  How will I even afford this place without her?  I am so fucking fucked!

Ok calm down.  We will figure out the money.  We will figure this out.  You were too good for the bitch anyway.  Here is what you need to do: go get in the bath.  I am bringing you booze.  Then come with us to Voyeur, and we are going to paint the town pink with Ruth.  Ok?

Kim sniffed and nodded.  I took her hand, leading her down the hall to the first bathroom, where I turned on the hot water in huge claw-foot tub while pouring in a generous amount of bubbles.

Get in.  I’ll be back.  I went to the bathroom and grabbed a bottle of Stoli out of the freezer, and three glasses of rocks.  Ruth followed me, smiling slightly.

What are you all happy about?

Oh I got promoted today.  But it means I have to move.  To LA.

I set down the glasses abruptly.  No shit!   

And it looks like you are going to need someone to take up the slack in rent...

NO SHIT!  Ok and you know this means Cecilia is going to be down here in a heartbeat.

Exactly.  Okay 5 second celebration and then let’s go take care of Kim.

We jumped up and down screaming silently, holding hands like little girls and then stopped, took deep breaths, and returned to the bathroom.  Ruth took a seat on the toilet and I leaned on the edge of the sink.  Kim was in bubbles up to her chin, sniffling still, but the hysterical tears had stopped.  I poured her a generous vodka, and smaller ones for myself and Ruth.

Where’s Leah?  I asked, never knowing where the enigmatic roommate had gone.

She went home to New York last week (ahh makes sense!) but she is back.  I don’t know where she is though.

Does she know about you and Andi?

Kim sniffled (oops!) No.  It just happened this morning.  I woke up and....and...she was already packed!  Kim burst into another round of sobs and I pointed to her glass of vodka which she obligingly drank from deeply.

The front door banged open.  Speak of the devil.  Leah’s heavy motorcycle boots pounded the wood floors as she made her way down the hall to the open bathroom.  She peeked her head around the corner, a hand over her eyes.  

Coast clear?

Clear.  I told her.  She uncovered her eyes and took in the vodka, me and Ruth, and bubble covered tear-stained Kim.

What the fuck is going on?

Andi....Andi....dumped meeeeeee!  Kim wailed and then took another gulp of booze.

What?  Damn.  Heavy.  Leah came over and and sat on the edge of the tub, grabbing the vodka bottle from the floor and taking a swig.  She choked slightly and pulled out her  Marlborough reds.  Mind?  I shook my head and stuck out my hand for one.

I want one too.  Kim warbled, pulling a prune-y hand out of the bubbles.  

You don’t smoke.  I said surprised.  

I fucking do now.  Leah?  Leah shrugged and handed her one.  We all lit up and let out sighs.

Women, man.  Muttered Leah.  Succinct and wise, that one.

We are going to Voyeur tonight, interested?

Yeah why not.  I was going to drive to Vegas but I’m over it.  Hotter chicks here anyway, Vegas is a bunch of amateurs.  This elicited a giggle from Kim.  Which was a good sign, even if it was a slightly tipsy giggle.

Voyeur was another whirl of epic breasts, strong drinks, dancing, and we managed to get Kim to bring home a girl that can only be described as a tall drink of champagne.

MARCH

The green month found Ruth fully ensconced in our apartment, and Cecilia in a ridiculous condo in WeHo, lazily job hunting, much preferring to girl hunt.

SO much more to come.  Promise.  Better deets in the future, and a full recap of Dinah Shore weekend....

Always, 

Louise

Champagne Wishes and Career Dreams

A triangle of light blue sky piercing grey clouds with a white burst. Steel ocean and thick foam; rocks cutting through at points like aggressive barnacle covered whales. Moss covered cliffs meeting the sea in a kiss of spray. Waves rolling in an impossible rhythm, shouting with a muted fury, a thundering roar of the gods. Humans, just specks on fragile fiberglass boards, braving this, attempting to conquer this.

I flew back to Northern California in all of her rugged glory, for the holidays to spend time with the twins, who were home from school at UC Berkeley, and my mother. Ruth and Cecilia came from San Francisco to join us by the beach as per usual. Ruth’s family, conservative, old-school Asian American Christians, disowned her back when she was a rebellious and angry baby dyke and Cecilia’s parents, divorced, never seem to live or be anywhere closer than ridiculous European locations. Both girls grabbed me in a tight hug when we reunited in Monterey and Cecilia whispered Welcome home! in my ear. I didn’t say it out loud but I no longer felt this was home.

Christmas was quiet and stormy; Mother Nature having decided to wash the earth clean getting a head start on a fresh beginning for 2010. We had a lovely family dinner on the covered balcony, heat lamps blazing and an ocean mist swirling. I was entirely distracted the entire time, replaying a different dinner in my mind. Dinner with Margot Whitney.

She arrived at my door promptly at 8PM. Kim answered the door and for once couldn’t say much. Tripping over herself she ran down the hall to my room. She found me sitting on the edge of my new wrought iron Italian campaign canopy recently purchased from Anthropolgie, staring at the Fendi booties I resurrected from the Paris trip.

As Kim burst in she giggled Ms. Whitney here to see you!

I laughed and grabbed my turquoise alligator clutch, heels tapping as I followed her out of the room. Margot was waiting for me in the living room. Of course she looked incredible, dressed in a black Prada tux-style jacket, her long legs clad in Rock & Republic brushstroke skinny jeans, startling eyes rimmed in smokey liner. Leah was stretched out on the couch, a cigarette behind her ear, unabashedly checking out Margot. Navy eyes followed me as I crossed the room, and Leah winked, the left corner of her mouth curving up and her dimple deepening with pleasure at my blush.

I said awkward goodbyes to the roommates and followed Margot’s perfect ass out the door, down the winding stairs to her 1956 black Porsche Spyder (yes my jaw dropped). I slid into the leather seat, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly through my mouth. The butterflies were wreaking havoc on my stomach. We sped off, Sam Sparro’s Black & Gold filling the silence.

I don’t really do small talk. I don’t believe in it...I don’t really believe in wasting time. Margot finally said.

I agree. I replied, relieved she had said something and turned on at the same time by her incredibly easy bluntness. She looked at me out of the corner of her eye, that bright topaz tiger eye, and grinned.

Arriving at the London in West Hollywood, valets immediately opened our doors, greeting Ms. Whitney who shook their hands, tipping each of the bumbling men generously. As we made our way through the sleek and chic white lobby to Gordon Ramsay’s restaurant, this continued--everyone knew who she was.

We were immediately escorted to a private room, which was elegant and at the same time opulent in its gilt, mirrored, and marbled decor. A bottle of Veuve was waiting, chilling in a silver bucket.

Margot dismissed the host with a casual flick of her head and we were left alone. She popped the champagne herself and gave me another one of her penetrating gazes.

To Louise Laurent, and her complete lack of fear.

I gulped down a sip from the crystal glass, unable to look away.

So you are a writer Louise. You are here to make it happen, live the dream, etc etc. Correct?

Correct.

Well I want to help make this dream come true. I have no idea about your talent but you have something almost better: balls. The way you interrupted today was...unusual. Do you have anything I can read?

I worried for a moment when I pulled out my samples I had been keeping on hand I would have to literally dust them off from all the time they had been just sitting in my bag. Luckily I didn’t have to suffer this. I passed my work to Margot.

Excellent. I will read it tonight. Now tell me about you. I am fascinated to know more.

And so we wined. We dined. We went through the entire Chef’s tasting menu but time seemed to stand still. Margot was interesting and dynamic and funny and sexy and completely intoxicating.

After dinner Margot grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the restaurant to the elevator. Tipsy from the champagne and wine I stumbled slightly behind but didn’t question where we were going. She hit the button for the roof and grinned at me mischievously. I wish I could say that confined to the small space of the elevator I said something charming or clever, or that I became a sexual beast and shoved her against the wall, kissing her with wild abandon. But I didn’t. Instead I stared at her, drinking her in, quietly watching the way her black eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks each time she blinked.

The elevator made a bing and once again Margot grabbed my hand, pulling me onto the deserted rooftop deck. If I was speechless before, now I became positively mute. I stood still, watching her walk with an easy and sexy swinging pace past a glittering aqua pool, roaring fire, and white cabanas. Panoramic views of LA surrounded her as she leaned on the glass, the only thing separating her from a steep free fall to the city below. Arms spread, gripping the glass, she turned to smile at me over her shoulder. This was a smile that literally just dripped sex. I felt mesmerized, as though she was the charmer and I was the cobra, as I was pulled--rather than walking--to her. When I finally closed the gap, which seemed an endless and slow journey, her topaz eyes pierced me. Margot took my hand and an electric current arced through our bodies.

She lightly ran her hand up my arm leaving goosebumps in its wake. Her hand, strong and sure, continued its journey to my shoulder where she tugged down the thin strap of my flimsy top, while looking at me and smiling a very small, very coy, smile. Continuing on, Margot’s hand grasped the back of my neck and pulled my face to hers. While her other hand climbed my buttons, slowly releasing them from their confines she bit my bottom lip.

This is wrong... I said on a sigh into her mouth.

I know. Doesn’t that make it feel even better?

Her hands tangled themselves into my hair and she pushed me against the glass barrier, the LA city lights twinkling brighter than stars all around me. My shirt, now completely unbuttoned, fluttered in the cool breeze and her hands snuck expertly inside; one hand on the small of my back pushed me against her tall length of body, while she bent her head to lay her lips on my neck.

Wait... I tried again more firmly Wait. I can’t sleep with you...you’re my boss.

Haven’t you ever heard of sleeping your way to the top? She smiled but there was an edge of darkness in her bottomless eyes, pupils dilated with arousal.

I can’t...I don’t want to do it this way. I just...I have to go.

And I ran. My heels clicked as I quickly escaped, rapidly buttoning my shirt and jumping into the elevator. I took a deep breath as I punched the lobby button several times. When the doors reopened I sprang out and hustled out the front door where a valet quickly hailed me a cab. I jumped in sighing with relief. The old driver asked with a heavy accent if I minded if he smoked. We both rolled down our windows and lit up, and I let out a gust of breath on a plume of smoke, letting the cold air hit my face hard.  I pondered the Northern California waves, and their violent and repeated crashing against the cliffs...

So work might be a little awkward when I get back from my holiday break.

Always,

Louise

Sweet Dreams are Made of Shes

I met her while I was at work.

Despite always arriving on time, kissing some major ass, and keeping several copies of my screenplay in my Chloé bag (just in case), my job as assistant to the assistant consists mainly of fetching Coffee Bean and Spago’s to go. I have not so much as lifted a pen to paper the past month.

Los Angeles decided to become freakishly cold and one morning I rushed to work, my nose cold and cheeks pink after the ride. As I was taking off my leather jacket and sitting down at my miniature desk--which I seem to be sharing with someone’s Maltese puppy--the actual assistant, Karen, hurried over. Side note: Karen is thirty-something and takes her job very seriously. She wears only black, probably a remnant of her days working backstage during high school theater productions. Heavy black eyeliner, red lipstick applied liberally, and a generous spritzing of Bath and Body Works Vanilla Noir are all hallmarks of the look. Karen is faux-easy going, still prefers cassette tapes to “compact discs,” knows all of the Hollywood gossip but is a part of none of it, and has a picture of her pet parrot, Gregory, on her desk. As I was plopping down in my red swivel chair Karen swooped in and grabbed my arm--not a totally shocking move as she is oddly touchy-feely.

I need you to sit in on a meeting today. I need you to not draw attention to yourself. I need you to bring the Coffee Bean order. I need you to take notes. I need you to absolutely not speak unless you are spoken to. Can we do this?

Yes we can. I said, keeping the sarcasm internal, and looking her solemnly in the eye. I was also doing a little dance in my mind. Finally. Something!

That is how I found myself a few hours later handing out non-fat soy lattes and green tea ice blended things. I took Karen’s rules to heart and kept my head down, trying to be as discrete as possible. Then I handed over a ridiculous holiday raspberry hot chocolate and the hottest hand (yes hand!) took a firm hold of the paper cup. My head slowly raised to look at her face and suddenly I was drowning in these cat-like topaz eyes, fringed by long black lashes. She arched an eyebrow at me and I coughed and scurried away.

Here is the thing. I have been playing it cool as a cucumber the last few months, juggling girls, phasing them out after a night or two, and generally being in charge of celebrations. Despite the level of attractiveness, and amount of fish in the sea, no one has left me tongue tied. Not like her. The butterflies were flying around my tummy with wild abandon.

After taking my seat, slightly behind Karen, I thought it would be safe to look up again. Wrong. She was looking back at me, sitting straight across the table. Then I did something I have not done since...I don’t even know when: I blushed. The blood rushed to my head and all of a sudden I was in a slow motion movie sequence. Zero 7 played something sexy and slow as she licked a little bit of whip cream off her lip. My heart thundered in my chest and then stopped beating for an eternity. Her eyes held mine and I tried to blink breaking the penetrating gaze. God those eyes. They screamed sex and desire and passion and artistry and torture; her warrior eyes assaulted me.

I guess everyone else arrived for the meeting: a smattering of suits and writers. I didn’t really register anything until she broke my gaze and then shocked me further by calling the meeting to order in an authoritative and throaty voice. Obviously I should have known--she was in charge. And therefore, that made her Margot Whitney, creator of the series and head writer. Holy shit.

The meeting began and the suits and writers argued back and forth over minute details. I forced myself to focus on the task at hand and take notes, rather than staring at Margot’s incredibly luscious mouth as it formed words. They began to argue over one character “Clara,” and where they wanted to go with her storyline.

She’s boring. She is totally boring. We have heavy hitters vying for these parts. This isn’t the fucking Disney channel!

What if she gets pregnant?

That has been so done! So done!

Eating disorder? Drugs? Bisexuality?

Warmer warmer...

For some reason I forgot that I was an outsider. I forgot Karen’s rules, and all of sudden it was creative word vomit everywhere. From my second row seat I put in:

What if she leaves her boyfriend--say a hot player type--for a chick? And not just any chick but a full on dyke. That stuff is really now, you know? It would be shocking. And you get say a Blake Lively type or some other pretty little starlet looking for an edge. People would eat it up...

I trailed off looking around the room at surprised faces. A little bald man glared.

Who the fuck is she?

Karen, wide-eyed and practically shaking tried to move her chair further in front of me. Sorry Dale, that is no one, just my assistant, she didn’t mean to interrupt, maybe we should take a quick ten? I really don’t--

Shut up Dale. Everyone turned and looked at Margot. I stared at my laptop and where I had stopped taking notes when I busted into the meeting. Waiting.

It is fucking brilliant. Daring. Interesting. Bold. Different. What’s your name?

Louise. Laurent.

Thank you Louise.

Since I am not an utter moron, I managed to keep my mouth shut the remainder of the meeting. When it was over I quickly tried to escape, fearing for both my job and my life, either by Karen’s hand, Dale’s, or both. I had just made it to the door when one of those sexy hands grabbed my elbow. Walk with me Louise. Margot steered me down the long hallway into a massive glassed in office looking out on the city. She shut the door behind her, and then sat at a long sleek desk, gesturing for me to take one of the leather seats opposite her.

You’re new aren’t you?

I choked back a nervous laugh Yeah.

New is good. It is fresh. We need fresh here. I am tired of all the inhibitions. You don’t have any do you Louise?

Actually...well...very few.

I knew it. I want to pick your brain, if I may. Dinner tonight?

It took me about fifteen seconds to register what she was asking.

Absolutely.

Perfection. Have Karen email me your information. I’ll pick you up at nine.

Leaving her office in a daze, I wandered back down the long hallway wondering what exactly had just taken place. I returned to my desk where Karen was waiting for me, tapping a clunky heel.

You are so lucky this time Louise. SO lucky. Don’t ever ever EVER do that again! DId you completely forget the rules? What the hell?

Unable to help it, I smiled.

Karen, could you please email Margot my contact information? Thanks.

SO to be continued...

Always,

Louise

Ex Marks the Spot

I am going to go out on a big limb here and say something that I never thought would come out of my fingertips. San Francisco was one of the best cities in the world, in my humble opinion. But these days...it can’t hold a candle to LA, at least in terms of the lesbian scene. There. I said it. My heart will always be in San Francisco but Los Angeles is completely taking another little piece of my heart (now, baby).

That was the reflection portion of this program. And now. Wow. Drama big time. Because I broke all of the rules of singleland.

It has been about a month and a half since the move and I am already becoming a permanent fixture at every single lesbian event possible. I may or may not be back up to my old tricks that I had temporarily sworn off in SF when it started to all catch up with me. In reporting home to Ruth and Cecilia I have left out some minor details because basically...I really am not in the mood to be lectured. Kim is happy to have a partner in crime since Andi is such a homebody and Leah is somewhat of an enigma. Plus Kim is a perfect wingman, which is good for me. Honestly, it is as though I have had one of those makeovers you see in films. I got a Melrose haircut at Rudolph’s, I spent almost all my savings on flimsy tops, killer shoes, and ridiculous lingerie, and when I step out at night I feel...powerful.

And so it was with these delusions of power, sex, and glory, that I walked into major trouble last week. We went to APO at Rockwell, a more mellow cocktail party for the lezzies in Hollywood. I got checked off the guest list, with Kim nipping at my Chanel encased heels (yes I know, die), and Leah aloof as over, all smokey eyes and spiky mohawk.

RULE #1: If you are single DO NOT try to make friends with a couple of your same sexual persuasion. (Broken, check)

After mingling around and saying our hellos I got pulled away from Kim and into a conversation with a very attractive couple. Everything I said was apparently hilarious, and next thing I knew they were buying me shots of something fruity and delicious and deadly. The blonde of the couple, a tall femme with killer legs, seemed particularly interested in everything I had to say, and insisted that we must hang out sometime soon. She did seem to be coming on a little strong but the more champagne I had the less I really cared.

RULE #2: Don’t get pulled in. Don’t let your guard down. Don’t get drunk and forget the rules. (Broken, check.)

The music was great, the drinks were flowing, and Leah was even cracking a smile (which should seriously be illegal--way too hot). I had two new best friends and I didn’t want the party to stop.

RULE #3: DO NOT invite the couple over. You just met them you moron! (Broken, check.)

I invited them back to our place. We piled in Kim’s car, and I was squeezed in the back next to Blondie. Her hand was on my thigh. Shit. I awkwardly tried to move away only to be pressed up against the Brunette girlfriend. Shit and shit, but no it is okay I was drunk drunk drunkkkkkkk.

We got back to the apartment and Kim poured screwdrivers for everyone. Andi even came out and downed one, although she didn’t look totally pleased about the late night partying. Leah put on some of her angry dyke music, and I went to the kitchen for a refill. Blondie followed me.

RULE #4: Don’t encourage it even a little bit. Don’t encourage it at all. (Broken, check.)

You’re really cute Louise.

Oh. Thanks ______.

Yeah. this is kinda bad isn’t it?

What is? What is bad?

Blondie smiled, catching her lower lip with her white teeth, looking up at me from under heavy lids. Oldest trick in the book man. Oldest trick. I laughed nervously, but my guard was still down. I was drunk I didn’t give a shit.

RULE #5: Don’t go there. Just DON’T go there. Don’t go to the bathroom! (Broken, check.)

I have to go to the bathroom. I told her and semi-stumbled away. She was following me slowly, I could feel her. I could feel her eyes on my ass. She wasn’t being even slightly discrete. The party had moved to the living room and Brunette was laid out on the couch semi-conscious. Kim and Leah were doing lines of coke (where the hell did that come from?) and Andi had seemingly disappeared back to her room. It was all blurry and surreal as I walked down the hall. I could hear her heels clicking behind me. I pushed open the bathroom door and her hands were on my waist all of a sudden and she shoved me onto the marble counter, and her tongue was in my mouth and my brain was shouting STOP and my body was in complete disagreement.

It all happened extremely fast. The door flew open. There was Brunette. FUCK ME!!! Screamed my brain. Blondie let go of me and raced after her, tears already running down her face: I can explain...

I sat on the counter frozen. Shit shit shit. I grabbed my drink and downed the rest of it in a quick clean swallow. Then I jumped down and walked into the living room. Leah and Kim sat on the floor confused. They looked up at me.

What the hell just happened? Kim exclaimed her blue eyes wide, pupils dilated from the drugs.

Dude, Louise do you know who you have fucked with? You have to learn to keep it in your pants.

Did they leave?

Yeah. Want a bump?

Yeah. Yeah, I do.

I sat down on the floor next to them, shoved some white powder in my right nostril, and coughed, staring at the ceiling. Leah rubbed my back and Kim squeezed my hand. Thank god for the solidarity of my roommates. I had already screwed myself and a decent portion of the LA lesbian population--the last thing I needed was to lose the few friends I had.

And so I have entered into drama I never meant to enter into. I am officially a part of the LA scene and not necessarily in a good way. I need to go back to following certain rules of engagement. I like trouble. I don’t like drama. But I will be out again at the next party, causing something I am sure.

Always,

Louise