Black Mamba: Part III

Black Mamba: Part III

Part I

Part II

 I suppose it's ironic that my chattiest character ended up having the least amount of dialogue...




Robin was cold but the night was good, so it didn’t really matter. Convincing Min had been one thing; convincing Min’s mum had been entirely another. The second vodka sunrise was going down just a treat and Robin knew that Bucky was absolutely pining for her.

As she sat on the edge of his ‘excavation site’ — which was really just a big fuck-off hole in the ground — she couldn’t remember feeling this good for a long time. Mini was lost in Stacey’s new-found attention, and it didn’t really seem to matter that Buck was acting like an idiot. Robin arched her back and cracked her spine. Buck always acted like a fucking idiot, so; whatever.

She was happy with how her makeup had turned out tonight. More than happy. And Mini looked damn good in the red v-neck top she had leant to her. Robin felt the cold dirt shift underneath her skirt and wished they were back at the fire — at their little detached party. But Bucky was intent on shovelling away at his hole, just like he had been for the last couple of days.

Robin watched from across the hole as Stacey held Min back, making sure she wouldn’t fall, sneaking glances at her cleavage, and appearing far more nervous than Robin had expected. The two of them were enviably cute. Much more so than Bucky and Robin, and she hated them for it.

It was hard to be on the outside. Robin wondered if she was already done. She was the same age as Min, but she’d done so much and she felt used up. She ached for that new feeling — that ‘just scratching the surface’ feeling — she resented how weathered she felt herself to be. Mini was a brand new, budding flower. Mini was gorgeous and completely unaware of it. Mini was enviable.

Robin was all talk and all sex. She always had been. And she hated that about herself.

Robin knew the things that boys liked.

Boys liked you to make a solid first move. Boys liked you to want them. Boys liked you to act as if their dick was the greatest thing you’d ever seen, even when they knew it wasn’t. And Robin was no fool — she knew girls wanted similar things, she had just never really been into girls. Robin liked boys and so she had learnt how to do the things that boys liked so that she could have boys.

Boys wanted to chase, but not so long or so far as to make them legitimately tired. Boys wanted to woo, but not so much as to max out the credit card or find themselves at a craft fair. Boys were willing to go as far as it took to get the pussy, but once they were done it was nap time and that was that.

Robin knew she was generalising, she knew she was lumping the male collective into an immense, unrealistic stereotype, but she liked Buck, and unfortunately there seemed to be nothing that wasn't stereotypical about the man-child that he was.

Robin sipped her vodka sunrise and surreptitiously watched Min and Stacey. She knew they must have kissed early. Of course they had. Min’s face was flushed and the pair of them had a different dynamic to earlier. Robin smiled to herself. She saw Stacey pull Min in close, on the other side of the hole and all she wanted was for Buck to hold her like that — to want her as if she was something special; something to be sought after and treasured and adored. She wanted him to give half a shit.

Robin looked down into the hole and saw Buck trip, drunkenly, on his own shovel. Just as she was about to stand up and yell at him for being clumsy, an ice cold wind rose up from the excavation hole.

Robin felt as light as a cloud. Something cleared in her mind. Her thoughts were. She dropped her drink.

Bucky?

But before she could actually say his name. She was not herself.

Her body felt long and curved and twisting.

She was not herself. She would never be herself again.