"Taste the poetry yet?" Dana asked Delilah. It was her third shot of vodka and they were both starting to doubt that Shakespeare vodka tasted like poetry, though it looked like they were going to keep doing shots until they found the poetry at the bottom of the bottle.
Delilah giggled for a good minute. She was Rob's little sister, Rob being Dana's almost-boyfriend and the host of the loud and obnoxious party downstairs, and Dana's savior this evening. It seemed like every last guy there was out to cop a feel and chug brews until they puked all over the Morgans' couch. Besides, Rob was blasting AC/DC and Run-DMC on the stereo and Dana hated that stuff.
All in all, the best part of the party so far had been when Delilah plopped down next to Dana, shook her hand and said, "Hi, I'm Delilah. Want to go somewhere with 99 percent fewer dickheads?" because Dana didn't want to hold Rob's head when he threw up those twelve beers he'd had.
So now they were in Delilah's girly bedroom listening to the radio. They liked all the same bands like Madonna and Morrissey and The Cure, though Delilah was much more about europop than Dana. Plus, Delilah and Dana both adored Little House on the Prairie, a set of which was sitting on the middle shelf of Delilah's bookshelf.
"Like, it still tastes like hairspray," Delilah mourned, putting the bottle down and throwing herself back against the blue-and-white floral bedspread next to Dana. She was so pretty. Prettier and taller than Dana, who hated her freckles and red hair when it was compared to the tall, dark good looks of little Miss Morgan. Hell, Delilah was prettier than Missy, and Dana always thought Missy was the prettiest girl in the room. "And, oh my God! We're, like, totally out of cranberry juice!"
"So?" Dana asked.
"Like, so? So I need, like, a chaser!" Delilah whimpered. "My mouth tastes like hairspray and ass. Icky, icky, icky! We have to make it better!"
She was pouting all the way through her drama queening, and Dana started giggling. Everything was SO funnier when you were drunk; Bill was right. Even if he was a complete dickweed with an ugly mullet.
So Dana pursed her lips, trying to think hard. "We could find you something sweet?" she suggested.
A big goofy grin spread over Delilah's face. "Good idea!" she said with a squeal. "I totally know where to find it, too."
With that, she rolled over on top of Dana and kissed her on the lips with tongue. After a moment of being really wicked surprised, Dana opened her mouth and kissed back, because after all, she was sweeter than vodka. And it was easier than going downstairs to find another sort of chaser, wasn't it?
Delilah didn't taste bad. Kind of like cough syrup and vodka mixed together, and Dana had had enough vodka to feel very relaxed about this. Rob's little sister was just experimenting with her, and as long as she didn't think about what Mom and Dad and the Pope would say, Dana was good with tongue-kissing a girl this once. After all, Delilah was gnarly bodacious with the longest legs ever and soft soft skin that smelled like Love's Baby Soft and she knew just where to pet Dana's hair and neck. And Berlin! Berlin was playing 'Take My Breath Away' on the radio and that song always made Dana want to make out lots and kiss back harder, plus Delilah was a good kisser who knew how to kiss with tongue, which her big brother didn't.
After the song was over, Delilah rolled back over and started giggling even harder, bouncing on the bed a little so that Dana could see her breasts jiggle some.
"Mmm," she said. "You taste pretty. Like cherry lip-gloss."
Dana's mouth was very dry. She'd just kissed a girl. Really kissed a girl. Making out kissing. She was so drunk and so going to hell. But the vodka didn't taste like poetry yet and maybe there would be a Pet Shop Boys song next and Dana scrambled over to the side of the bed and picked up the bottle again.
"It's my turn to do another shot," she announced with a naughty and sheepish smile, holding up the bottle. "And I'm gonna need a chaser, too..."