I'm Not a Whore, I'm Just a Leech

“Hey! You’re early!” Alicia cracks, placing her hands on her hips, a stern look dominating her face as Frank and I cross the threshold of her home, Frank half carrying me to the lounge.

“We are?” I slur.

Alicia cackles, arms flying to her sides. “No, I was just pulling your fingers.”

Frowning, I glance down at my hands. Start counting the fingers. “One… two… five… three…” I lose myself at twenty-seven and have to start again: “One… six… two… ten… eleven… fifteen…”

I scowl and repeat.

Frank moves to cover my hands with his, drawing my gaze up to his face. He is staring down at me. “Are you sure you’re alright, Cam?”

I giggle, reaching up a finger to stroke his cheek. “You’re very pretty,” I purr, pressing my lips to his throat.

“Alicia?” I hear Frank say, bass tones vibrating against my lips. I giggle again as he says, “I could use a couch for this.”

“Tickles,” I laugh, cupping his neck with my free hand and nuzzling my face further into his throat. “Again,” I mutter, something slimy slipping down my lips.

“Ew, Cam? No- you’re drooling. We don’t do that. Not here, not ever.”

“Pretty,” I lilt, tracing my lips up his jaw. “Tickly.”

“Couch, Alicia.” Through the haze, an emotion registers: panic. But I ignore it and suck on his earlobe as he heaves me to a densely-packed living room and throws me on a couch rather unceremoniously. I break out in hysterical tittering and reach my arms out to his blurring figure, looming darkly over me. “Again,” I command. He glares at me and picks me up from my lying position on the couch and sits me up before plopping himself on the couch beside me.

“Frankie, let’s do something fun!” I was whining, I was blatantly aware of that fact, yet I didn’t care. I leaned heavily on Frank and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down towards me. He tried to pry my arms off of him, until Alicia suddenly catches my attention.

“Alicia! Bitch, don’t go pouring yourself a drink without giving me one.” She looks up at me, her eyes widened more than normal. I walk over to the buffet table and she hands me a bottle with some form of alcohol in it and I start downing it. I can see out of the corner of my eye that Frank has jumped off of the couch and is heading towards me.

I turn to face him just as he makes his way over to me. “Can I help you?”

He tries to grab the drink from my hand, but I hold it above my head, which thinking back was probably a very moronic thing to do considering Frank is taller than me. He tries to grab the drink from my hand again but I jerk back trying to keep it out of his reach. I stumble and the liquid spills all over me.

I immediately stop what I’m doing and look down at my shirt in shock. Frank looks down and his widened at the site of my shirt. He quickly tried to cover me up by stepping closer to me, so the other guys can’t see.

Alicia quickly grabs my arm and spins me around. She looks me up and down quickly before wrapping her arm around my shoulder and leading me out of the room. “Oh, you poor thing! Let’s go get you cleaned up; you can take a quick shower to wash all the beer out of your hair and then you can borrow one of my shirts.” I look down and realized that none of the beer had gotten on my pants but my boots were surely ruined from all the beer that had dripped off my face and onto them. I look behind my shoulder and see Frank standing there and giving me a sympathetic look, and then turning around when he sees my eyes on him.

Alicia leads me down the winding hallway and finally stops at a yellow-painted doorway on the right-hand-side. “Here we are,” she says, and I can detect a lilt to her words. I just had time to wonder if she was drunk before she shoves me into the bathroom and tells me to wash up; she will be back with a shirt and towel.

I take my time under the tap, running the water to burning hot. I lean back and the droplets smack against my face. I sigh. “Tickles,” I murmur.

“Damn, Cam. You look so freaking hot when you’re showering.”

I squeak and grab the curtain, wrapping it around myself. “Alicia?” I ask in amazement. She’s sitting on the closed toilet seat, watching me with wide eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I brought you a towel.” She holds up the towel in her hands. It is dark blue with ducklings.

“Cute,” I venture.

Then giggle, because when you are drunk, everything is just so damn funny.

“Well, are you gonna get out and change?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

Now, under regular circumstances, I would question changing in front of an almost-strange girl. But again--alcohol does many wonders to the body and brain and whatever else it is that makes common sense so common...and...senseful?

So I hop on out of the shower and yank the towel from Alicia, eagerly drying myself off.

“You’re shivering,” Alicia notes, standing up.

“Cold,” I mutter. Another thing I have noticed about drunk people--their sentences either consist of one word, or many words jumbled together in an incomprehensive lame-ass excuse of a sentence. I seem to take after the first.

“Here.” Alicia takes the towel, wrapping it around my shoulders and rubbing my back with gentle strokes, then sliding her hand lower and rubbing gentle circles over my ass with the heel of her hand, then dancing her fingers lightly under the towel, smoothing her nails over my cheeks….

“All better,” I announce gleefully, throwing off the towel and bending to grab my panties off the sodden floor, not even watching (or for that matter, caring) where I stick things and in whose direction.

I have just finished pulling on my lower-body garments and bra when I stop, reaching for the beer-stained tee on the ground. “Shirt?” I inquire, looking at Alicia wonderingly.

Alicia moves toward me, a finger trailing down my jaw, shoulder, and resting on my heart. Slowly her fingers crawl into my bra, tracing the nipple and cupping the breast. “You see,” she says, “I realized when I came in here that I forgot to grab you a shirt, but you just looked so fucking hot, I kinda forgot to go grab you one. But you know...you don’t really need it.”

Before I can ask what she is smoking--because she is clearly past the “merely drunk” stage--she grips my shoulders roughly and shoves me back against the sink, compressing her lips onto mine with a passion.

I am shocked, standing stock-still as her lips tear away at mine, her tongue travelling the length of my lips, seeking entrance. When I deny it, she forces her way in, tongue grappling with mine.

I have been so caught up in resisting her tongued fury that I have not noticed her hands sliding over my half-wet bare skin until I feel her fingers fumble with the clasp of my bra.

When I attempt to shove her away--clearly, a useless attempt; stupid drunk jelly arms--she only shoves into me harder, leaning her body against mine while my lower back shoves painfully into the edge of the sink. Finally, her fingers manage to undo the clasp, and I feel my bra slap against my toes as it falls to the ground.

“Don’t resist,” Alicia mutters soothingly through our locked lips, and for a second, I get confused. That voice--at least the tone. Frank uses it quite so often, when we are making out.

If I had been sober, I never in my life would’ve mistaken hot, sexy Frank Iero with creepy, bi Alicia...whatever her last name was. But as it is, I am drop-dead wasted, and before I can realize what is happening, I am circling my arms around Alicia’s waist, hooking my thumbs in the waistband of her jeans, sliding my hands into the back of them, tightening my hold and kissing back just as passionately. I feel her smile and we turn into a sweaty, wet mess of tongue, skin, and aggressive groping.

(Even drunk, I know I’d have to apply some kind of soothing cream to my boobs when this night is over; Alicia’s constant groping and rummaging hands are having a worse effect on me than rugburn is.)

As my hands move down to her ass, my fingers squeezing tightly, I feel something...off.

On occasion, when Frank and I’s makeout session become obsessively heated, we would (admittedly) grop each other; have done it once or twice. And yeah, I have felt his ass-cheeks before, luckily with at least two layers between my skin and his.

So yeah, I know his butt is fine and well-structured and sturdy, and yeah, what my fingers are exploring now are most decidedly not Frank Iero’s ass.

I would know that ass anywhere, however creepy that sounds. To be fair, he’d know mine anywhere, too.

I slap my hands against Alicia’s chest; she clearly takes it the wrong way, but all is ironed out when I shove her so hard, she slams into the opposite wall.

I am shocked to realize that I am shirtless, braless, and half-way to pantless, and Alicia is standing in front of me in nothing but her barely-there lace thong.

I think she just wrapped a string around her ass once and finished with it.

I gasp, bringing my fingers up to my lips in horror. What the fuck just…

“What’s wrong, babe?” murmurs Alicia seductively. “Why’d you pull away? Needed air?”

“You kissed me,” I say, amazed and mortified and feeling like a big ball of cow shit all in one.

“You kissed back.” Alicia is pressed back up against me again, her buoyant boobs choking my face what with her extra height advantage. She leans down and takes one of my nipples between her lips, sucking, bobbing up and down as a hand fingers with the inside of my panties and the other runs gently up my side. “I think we’re done with intermission…”

Just as her teeth are grabbing on to my lower lip do I snap back to my complete senses. I bring a hand up to slap her as hard as I can across the face just as her hand slides up my stomach and cups my left breast.

Alicia yells out in horror and pain, and I just have time to dive for the shower curtain again as the footsteps down the hall turns to booms of thunder and the door bursts open, revealing a disheveled and horrified Mikey and Frank.

“What the fuck--” Frank says, stepping into the room. He stops mid-sentence, looking between the two of us. I can’t help myself; maybe it is the alcohol that is making me so emotional, or because I am so close to my cycle--but I burst into tears.

Frank immediately comes over to hug me or comfort me in some way, but stops when he sees that I have no clothes on my upper body. Alicia has wrapped herself in the towel before Frank walked into the room; it probably didn’t matter what Mikey saw. I’m assuming he’s seen it all already.

“Your girlfriend, Mikey, just basically raped me!” I yell out. There are still tears on my face but they have turned into tears of anger and I start furiously wiping them away with one hand.

“You were kissing me back! Don’t lie and make me like some kind of villain!” she yells, glaring at me furiously. Suddenly I feel completely sober, probably from the shock of the situation.

“You’re the one who took advantage of someone that was completely shit-faced! And for the record, I’m not a lesbian; you just reminded me of someone else.” There is no way in hell that I will let it slip, who she reminded me of. The relation doesn’t even make sense to me anymore. How I could connect a guy that I’m basically friends with benefits with to someone I barely know is beyond me.

Mikey steps in at this point. He has clearly heard enough out of both of us. “Look Alicia, that’s it. I’m done. You’ve been acting completely strange lately and I knew something wasn’t right, I knew. I should’ve dumped you weeks ago, but I didn’t and I wish I had.” Mikey storms out of the room and I hear the front door slam. Alicia looks at me with tears in her eyes.

“This is all your fault, you stupid bitch!” Alicia runs out of the bathroom after sending me one last glare. To be honest, the reaction isn’t that bad considering my line of work, but this situation is quite different so that makes it all the worse.

After she runs out of the bathroom I realize that she had no clothes on whatsoever; I hope she had a good hold on that towel so she didn’t give the guys anything to look at. I look down at myself and see that I’m not wearing a shirt at all and Alicia didn’t bring one for me to wear. Not that I want to wear her clothes anyway. Sighing, I reach down for my beer stained shirt and hold it in front of my face, glaring at the shirt like it has offended me in some way, before preparing myself to put it on. I am about to pull it over my head when a hand grabs my arm.

I look over my shoulder at Frank and see that he is not wearing a shirt; just his sweater. I look him up and down before raising a brow at him. He sees my look and thrusts the shirt into the hand that isn’t holding the shower curtain around my upper body. He quickly walks out of the room, shutting the door swiftly behind him. I take this as my cue to put his shirt on and quickly do so. The fabric is thin and the air passes through easily, making me get goosebumps. I open the door of the bathroom and walk straight into Frank who is standing outside like a body guard.

Frank looks down at me then he blinks. He blins again, his mouth falling open slightly. “What?” I ask, self-consciously touching my cheeks. “Have I got something on my face?” Frank clears his throat and shakes his head. His eyes leave my figure, but flicker back again. “Stop staring at me like I’m an alien,” I complain.

Frank complies, turning to walk back into the living room before facing me once again. “It looks good on you.”

I don’t know how to reply. A hint of pink rises in Frank’s cheeks but I can’t recall if it was there before or not. I simply shrug it off, taking it as a compliment without thinking too much about it.

“Thanks,” I reply, slowly gazing up at the ceiling. Why is Frank being so nice to me all of a sudden this week? Maybe we have established a friendship now, but it is unlike the both of us. Maybe Frank isn’t as much of a dick as I originally assumed, but I was just anticipating the next tantrum he threw unexpectedly. I try not to dwell on it for too long.
__________________________________________________________________________

“Hey,” I say suddenly, reaching up to tug on Frank’s sleeve. He stares down at me; raises an eyebrow in question. “Can you give me a ride home? I’m a little bit wasted.”

He smirks. “I thought you were completely shitfaced?”

I grin goofily and slip my hand into his. I hear him shudder in a breath, but don’t really take it in, to calculate and interpret as I usually would, because, well...I’m drunk.

Grinning gleefully, I tug on his hand and skip down the hall to Alicia’s front door. Just as my hand is resting on the knob to throw it open, he pulls back a bit, brows furrowing. I giggle, leaning into him. “What?” I question.

“I forgot something,” he says hastily, extracating his fingers from mine. I pout and try to snag his hand again, but he dances it away. He is smiling wistfully--or at least, I am rather certain his expression is wistful--but he does not take my hand again. “I’ll be right back,” he promises, and turn to dash down the hall.

I sigh and call after him, “I’m shitfaced and hot! Meet you outside!”

I fling the door open and run out into the cool night, the frigid breeze welcome on my clammy forehead and arms. I am about to bolt down the stairs and rub up stupidly against one of the cars parked in the drive because I am so very hot and that car looks heavenly cool, but then I am met by a wall of resistance that I later identify as a human being such as myself as the both of us go crashing to the wooden porch.

I am laughing and rolling on the ground because of it. “Whee!” I squeal, flinging my arms in the air.

“Ow,” Mikey contradicts, rising to his feet and yanking me up with him.

“Whee!” I repeated again.

Mikey gives me a weird look. “You are one shitfaced girl,” he announces.

I giggle, poking him in the chest- damn, that’s where all that resistance was. “I know,” I say loftily. I look up at Mikey and see that he does not seem as gleeful as I do; maybe he has nargles in his garden and one got in his ear or something. Or maybe his mouth. I can’t imagine they taste too good.

“Hey,” I say softly trying to keep his attention trained on me. “I’m really sorry about what happened. It’s my fault, if Frank hadn’t brought me none of this would have happened.” I frown up at him, trying my best not to look to upset. The alcohol makes me want to burst into the tears.

He looks down at me before smiling slightly, “I’m glad he did, I got to meet a beautiful girl on the same night I dumped my own bitch of a girlfriend. Really, it’s a win-win. Plus, who knew how many times she’s cheated on me before? And with other girls. I mean, most guys think girl-on-girl action is like, the thing, but walking in on your girlfriend doing it…” He shook his head hopelessly. “What a way to find out your girl’s a cheating wench.”

I nod understandingly before bursting into tears. I am very emotional when drunk, I’ve noticed. “It’s still my fault! Maybe if I wasn’t so stupid and had pushed her away at the very beginning none of this would’ve happened!” He quickly wraps an arm around me pulling me into his chest; he’s a great deal taller than me so I find I have nowhere to put my arms. I latch my hands onto his sweater and pull him slightly closer, burying my head into his chest. A giggle bubbles up in my throat and soon I pull away and am just standing there giggling.

“I’m so silly! Crying over nothing at all!” I smile goofily at him before stopping and staring at the ground deep in thought. “Man, I really need to lay off the drink…”

Suddenly, I hear Mikey chuckle and see him shake his head in amusement. He looks at me for a while then abruptly voices a thought that pulls me out of my reverie. “So, what’s going on between you and Frank anyway?”

I stare at him for a second before responding dryly, “Nothing, we’re just friends. I mean, you must know that he’s a player.”

“Yeah, we’re all waiting for his saving grace that will make him stop sleeping around and settle with one girl. It doesn’t look like that day will come anytime soon.”

“Frank? Settling down? That thought is laughable. You know,” I turn to look at Mikey, “his man whoring is only going to get worse when you guys become rich and famous.”

Mikey laughs slightly, stuffing his hands into his jean pockets. He turns his head to face me, staring at me intently. “Hey, do you want me to drive you home? You’ve had a long night and are probably very tired.”

I smile at him, before running a hand through my hair. “No thanks, I’m waiting for Frank. He said he just forgot something.”

“You know you’re not really helping your case of nothing going on between you two.”

I laugh before shoving him down the steps lightly. “Go home, your night has been worse than mine.”

He waves slightly before jumping into a car and leaving.

“If you wanted someone to tell you you were beautiful,” says a voice from behind me, and I jump as they continue, “you didn’t have to look further than me.”

I turn to find Frank leaning in the doorway, which I had left ajar, a plastic bag from ‘Wal-Mart’ thrown over his shoulder.

My eyes narrow and I walk up to him, stabbing him in the chest as I had done Mikey, only more violently. “Were you spying on us? Asshole!” I declare.

His eyes widened. “Calm down, Leech. I only came near the end.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. What’s in the bag?”

He looks at it as if just realizing its presence. “Nothing,” he says, looking back at me with a startled expression on his face.

“Liar.”

Frank smirks. “I know. Ready to go.”

“I was ready to go when I realized I was about to get raped.” I skip down the stairs, tripping and nearly smashing my face into the post at the bottom of the stairs as I went.

Frank winced. “Careful,” he warned, then added, “and can we not discuss the near-rape experience? Please?”

“For once, I’m more than happy to oblige. In fact, I’m so tuckered out, I may just pass out in your vehicle--right after I throw up in the backseat.”

Just as I’m about to jump into the passenger seat of his car Frank says something that startles me. “By the way, thanks for doing that for Mikey; I haven’t see him laugh or smile that much in a couple months.”

I stop moving and look over at Frank just as he gets into the car. And I shake my head and jump in after him.
______________________________________________________________________

Frank insists on walking me up to my door when we finally pull into the drive. Just as I am reaching for the handle, just about ready to collapse in bed and pass out for fifty days, Frank says, “Wait. You plan on going inside and sleeping without giving me a goodnight kiss? Hurts, Cam. It really hurts.”

I sigh impatiently and turn to cup my hand around his neck. Leaning up on my tiptoes, I tug his face down and kiss his cheek.

Well, that was what I’d planned on doing. Frank seems to enjoy soiling my plans because he turns his head and the last second and catches my lips with his. I resist at first then just go with it. He wraps his arms around my waist and I hook my pointer fingers in his belt loops, yanking him snugly against my chest. I put my hands under his shirt and trace the lines on his stomach, and he lets out a small moan against my lips. I bite his lip hard asking for entrance, he opens his mouth and I shove my tongue in, so it’s clashing with his. We start fighting for dominance, he unfortunately wins (which is surprising considering I’ve kissed a lot more people than he has; I decide this happens because of the alcohol.) His hands start to trail lower, and I jerk away, suddenly reminded of Alicia and I shudder.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” I shake my head, and turn to face my front door. I reach down to my side to grab my keys from my bag, and my hand waves through thin air. I look around my porch to see if I had dropped it in my run in with Frank.

“Hey, do you know if I left my bag in your car? I didn’t have it at the party, so I probably left it in your car after the gig.” I turn to him and gesture towards his car.

He glances at his car then looks back at me, raising an eyebrow at me. “You didn’t have a bag when we left the gig. I would have remembered a bag getting in the way.”

I tilt my head in confusion, “Getting in the way of what?” He shoots me a look that clearly says, ‘You’re very stupid.’ It finally dawns on me that what he was referring to is our heated make out session in his car before the party.

“What do you need your bag for anyway?” Now it’s my turn to give him a look that says ‘You’re very stupid.’

“I had my keys in there.”

“So, call your sister or brother.” He says it like it should be the most obvious thing in the world. I glare at him.

“You don’t think I thought of that! I’m not stupid! Besides, my phone is in my bag.” I run a hand through my hair in exasperation. I look up suddenly, “Let me use your phone.”

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I don’t have mine either. I don’t bring it to gigs.” We stare at eachother for the next few minutes.

“Just ring the doorbell.”

“I’m not ringing the doorbell! My parents are home, and I’d rather not get in shit for coming home drunk as fuck.”

“That’s understandable I suppose.”

I nod my head in response. “Can I crash at your place tonight?”

“Why?”

“Do you want to stand here all night until someone gets up in the morning? Which won’t be for a while by the way, my family sleeps in on the weekend.”

“When you put it that way…”

“That’s what I thought.” I quickly hop off my porch and walk over to his car and slip into the passenger side.
______________________________________________________________________

Frank quietly opens the door to his house and I slip off my boots while he slips off his ratty converse. I walk forward slightly and trip over something in the dark, I feel a hand slip into mine to lead me throughout the house. Even with the guidance I trip over my own feet. “Sorry,” I whisper out before wrapping my arms around the one that had been previously holding my hand.

“It’s fine, I have a hard time making my way around here in the dark myself.” I nod, not realising he obviously can’t see the action. We make our way up a flight of stairs and turn a corner, then stop. Frank opens a door, to what I’m assuming is his room. A light flickers on and we both step into the room, and Frank closes the door behind us.

Once my eyes adjust to the harsh light I see that the room is cleaner than I expected it to be (aren’t they always?). There are multiple band posters on the wall, a multitude of guitar equipment in one corner of the room by the window, and in the corner farthest from the window a bed is tucked up against the wall. There are some stray water bottles littering the floor along with some clothes; there is also a TV with a game console plugged in on the wall across from the bed.

“I like your posters,” I comment lightly before turning to face Frank.

“Thanks. I’ll be right back, alright? I’m going to get some blankets and pillows.”

I nod. “Oh, wait. Do you have a pair of sweatpants I can borrow?”

He nods and walks over to a closet before getting two pairs. He throws one at me and keeps one for himself then walks out of the room.

I quickly change and toss my jeans onto the floor. Frank walks back into the room and starts laying blankets on the floor and making a makeshift bed. I notice that he changed into his sweats and had taken his sweater off. He stands up when he is done and starts picking up his loose clothes from the floor, throwing them into a hamper. I quickly lie down on the bed he made on the floor and close my eyes, making myself comfortable.

“What are you doing?” I open my eyes and see that Frank is standing beside me staring down at my figure.

“Trying to go to sleep…”

“You are not sleeping on the floor; nice try. Move it.”

I roll my eyes and roll over so I’m facing the other direction. I hear Frank sigh and then I am being lifted and thrown onto a bed. The light is flicked off and then I hear Frank lie down on the floor.

“Did you just pick me up?”

“Yes, I did. Now shut up and go to sleep,” he whispers.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor, this is your room.”

“Look Cam, I’m not getting into it with you tonight.”

I move myself closer to the wall and maneuver under the comforter on the bed. I am silent for a few minutes and hear Frank tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable. I’m pretty sure I even hear him punch his pillow a couple time.

“Frank,” I call out softly into the dark.

“Yes, Cam?”

“You know, there’s enough room on the bed for the both of us.”

“I’m not seeing your point.”

“Just get in the bed, you dumbass.”

I hear him stand up and then the bed shifts, and I feel Frank lie down under the covers with me.

Oh shit. What did I just get myself into?

I find myself moving closer to his warmth and snuggling into his chest anyway.

Notes

I know I said that the next chapter would be Chapter Six.Five, but I started writing it and it escalated into Chapter Seven.

This chapter is 5065 words.

I hope you guys don't hate me for updating so late.

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