Lottery

thethemeis: Shiny Happy People

theauthoris: Aaron Twentythree

   After the pizza (of which we ate very little, what with the beer being so gassy and the fact that we'd already had six bottles each), my friend stopped admiring her bright red toenail polish and stared at me through her glazed, unfocused eyes. She made an Oh shape like she was about to stick a lollipop in her mouth or something much thicker and then her eyes lit up and she slurred, Let's pretend we've won the lottery. 

   What? I replied, finding it just as hard to blink as it was to catch her drift. 

   She repeated, Let's pretend like we've won the Lotto. 

   I paused. 

   What?

   I said, she said, jumping from her pert little arse onto her knees on my leather sofa, facing me and jiggling with all the excitement of a child jumping on a bed on Christmas morning, Let's pretend we've won the lottery. Let's act all crazy happy like we've just been given millions of pounds. 

   I hiccoughed. 

   How?

   Well, I don't know. I guess the first thing you do is realise, isn't it. There's like this slow build up where one of you reads the ticket and compares it to the numbers on the erm, on the (she clicked her fingers at the television)... the screen... and then after that everyone in the room just goes crazy don't they. 

   I thought for a moment. 

   Okay, I said. But you can do the realising. 

   Okay. 

*

   Oh... Oh my God... Aaron!

   What?

   I thought she might be having a heart attack or an orgasm or something. Either way, my first thought was that I hoped it wasn't my fault. 

   We've got the... We've hit the... OH MY FUCKING GOD AARON, WE'VE WON!

   I realised what she was doing. Oh!, I said. I hadn’t even realised she was serious.

   Look at it! Look at the fucking ticket! We've won the lottery Aaron I can't believe it we're rich oh my god I love you I love you oh my god...

   After I took the invisible ticket from her hands, she threw her arms around me with a force that nearly knocked my seventh beer from my hand. Though I was sluggish to pick up the roleplay, I was considering easing myself into it now. I patted her back and said, Oh my god! But I think it might have sounded awkward. It didn't matter to her anyway; she was still screaming OHMYGODWEWONICAN'TBELIEVEIT.

   Grabbing my hand, she pulled me up off the sofa and ran for the front door. I had no idea what she was doing now, but I was too drunk to fight it and she was having too much fun for me to stop her anyway. She burst through the front door and started running round in circles on my lawn, her breath following her in ribbons of steam as she screamed her celebratory screams into the cold dark night. Watching her spaz out in my front garden that night, you'd think she was a five year old trapped in an eighteen year old's body; but I knew she was just under two litres of beer trapped in a skinny little twenty-one year old's body, begging to be calmed down. She jumped in the air, she kicked the flowers that I never watered, she swung from the low-hanging branch of the tree that lent lazily from the pavement over my driveway. At first, I just laughed and watched her whooping and diving about on the lawn screaming WE'RE MILLIONAIRES, WE'RE MILLIONAIRES; but after half a minute or so the whole scene became infectious and I downed the rest of my beer so I could toss the bottle and join her over there.

   WE'RE MILLIONAIRES! I shouted, holding her hands and jumping around like a loon. WE'RE MILLIONAIRES!

   After a good twenty or so breathless minutes of dancing here and there, she pointed out that if we were really millionaires we'd be drinking champagne by now, and I agreed, so I dragged her down the street toward the off licence, and she trailed behind me giggling like a clown on crystal meth and trying to tell me my front door was left open. I need my shoes! she cackled, pulling back on my hand with no real intention of returning to my house, My feet will get dirty! It's not becoming of a lady to walk the streets in bare feet!

   Never mind them, I hollered back, breathing heavily with the strain and chuckling a dirty old drunk man chuckle, I'll lick them clean if I have to! She giggled at an even higher pitch though I think she probably didn't hear me, what with all the slurring and the breathing I was up to. We carried on half-jogging toward the shops.

   When we got to the off licence I chose two bottles of the most expensive champagne I could find and I also picked up some vodka and some peanuts and when I put it all on the counter the guy on the late night shift looked at the two of us like we were raving lunatics. He scanned the drinks slowly, eyeing us with those suspicious eyes the whole time, and I couldn't work out if it was because I was dribbling or my friend was giggling so incessantly that he was looking that way. Eventually, having perused all the racks of sweets around the counter and found nothing she wanted, my friend stumbled against the counter and looked up at his face like she wanted to suck his cock and she said, We've just won the lottery. 

   The man behind the counter turned on like a lightbulb. How much? he said. 

   Millions. 

   You are lucky lady, eh? he said, suddenly very interested in her glorious tits, pressed as they were against his till. 

   Hey, hey! I shouted, snapping my fingers at his face, Those are million pound tits now! Don't look at things you can't afford! 

   He totalled up the price and I almost gasped before I remembered we'd just won the lottery and then I paid with my credit card like I was spending loose change. My friend said But Aaron... and I said Don't worry babe, we've just won the lottery. She just giggled. 

   As we left, I pointed at my eyes and then at the man's eyes so he knew I had my eye on him and his titwatching ways. I think I pointed at his eyes anyway, my aim might have been off. 

   We opened the first bottle of champagne on the walk home, which we took very slowly now that we were all tired from the jog in the opposite direction. I swigged greedily from the bottle, suppressing my burps because I was in the presence of a lady millionaire. My friend walked kicking her feet out in front of her and spreading her toes which each step, to get another look at her nail polish. It was all she could do to stay upright while she walked with such little coordination, but she managed it even when I passed her the bottle for her to drink from. 

   My front door was open just like she'd said, and when she hissed Oh no, oh no we left the door open... I just told her not to worry. 

   We're millionaires now, I said. We can replace anything that was taken. 

   Nothing had been taken though, and after we closed the front door behind us we collapsed on the sofa next to each other, dropping the empty bottle to the floor and sighing drunk sighs, filling the room with champagne beer breath. Ooh! my friend said, jumping up and turning on the stereo, turning Gaydar all the way up. Let's dance! She said, beginning to sway her hips and closing her eyes as she twisted open another bottle of champagne. I just laughed and watched her.

   Trying my hardest not to get a stiffy. 

   I turned the TV on so I didn’t have to watch her hips gyrate and her tits bounce from side to side and her hair glide through the air as she lost her intoxicated self in the music. After flicking from channel to channel hoping to find some pornography or gore, I stumbled across one of those late night roulette shows where they spin the wheel live on air and all you have to do is call in and pick a number to win big. Since I’d already won big once that night, I thought it’d be a good idea to win more, so I picked up my phone and dialled in. I bet on twenty-three, but it didn’t come in.

   When my friend saw what I was doing she stopped dancing to the ear-splitting techno beats and joined me on the sofa. At some point which I’d missed, she’d removed her top and a very thin layer of sweat made her skin sparkle as she pressed herself against me on the sofa in just her light pink lacy bra and blue jeans. It’s not until you’re drunk and you’ve won tens of millions of pounds and you’re about to bet it all away that you notice just how much you want to fuck your friends in the face. Anyway, she started calling out numbers too and before we knew it we’d blown eighty pounds on the wheel, and that’s not counting the phone line charges at two pounds a minute. I didn’t mind, it just frustrated me that we never won a single penny back. They must be rigged, those things.

   When she got bored, my friend stood up and started dancing again. She still had the full champagne bottle in her hand and it weighed her tiny arm down, and watching her I realised just how tiny her frame is. She’s as skinny as I’ve ever seen a girl, and short too; with her full breasts and round arse, it was a surprise that I’d never noticed before that she’s pretty much exactly what I go for. I guess it’s because she’d never been dancing half naked in front of me before, all drunk and vulnerable. I’d always been put off by her large-ish nose and that terrible choice of fringe that almost covers her eyes, but now those things were nothing to me. They went out the window the moment she started pouring the champagne over her face and letting it drip down her chest, saturating her bra within seconds.

   So after that, I was dancing next to her in just my underpants, my hard on pretty much out there for all to see. Who gives a fuck? I thought. I’m a millionaire. After swigging heavily from the bottle, I poured some over my own head before starting to unbutton my friend’s short shorts.

*

   By the time I entered her for the first time, we'd already had one or two orgasms each, each of us owing to the other's tongue. I'd already sucked her toes and watched her touch herself; she'd already bitten my earlobes and whispered things she'd never say to her mother. Now, she was scratching lines down my back hard while I lay on top of her, pushing so deep into her that she gasped with each new thrust. Slowly, I would pull nearly all the way out before sliding all the way in, being pulled in even harder by those smooth legs she had wrapped around me, tensing until I could feel her heels digging into my buttocks. I grabbed the open bottle from the bedside table and with her eyes closed she raised her mouth toward the sky, ready for me to pour vodka in. As I remained pumping slowly at her crotch, I let the vodka glug glug glug all over her face and hair until the pillow was soaked and she ducked her head out of the way of the bottle, giggling and telling me to stop. After I put the bottle down, she grabbed my hair and pulled my head toward hers. She kissed me with force, shoving her tongue into my mouth and wiggling it around frantically like we might have just minutes to live. When she let go, she gazed into my eyes for a few seconds. Stop making love to me, she slurred, And just fuck me. Millionaire. 

   So I did. I grabbed her wrists and pinned her down by them, and I pounded myself against her with all the strength my drunk and exhausted body could gather. Again and again, my body slapped against hers with that constant pap, pap, pap sound that is repulsive to anyone but those involved; and again and again, she groaned with pleasure or maybe pain until she was screaming and writhing and shaking her head from side to side, flicking her hair and covering us both in the vodka it was still sopping with. After that, she pushed me off her and got on all fours.

   We did it for a long while like that, me pounding her from behind and pulling her hair hard so that her head had to stay upright and her back arched, and no matter how hard I thought I was going she wanted it harder, until we both came with knee-weakening intensity and we had to stop because we felt nauseous from all the champagne and beer and vodka and pizza and peanuts swilling around in our bellies. 

   Laying there afterward, her wet head resting on my chest sticking to all the sweat and champagne, she stroked her foot up and down my leg. Her eyes were closed, and she breathed that deep breathing that is so telling of someone who is on the brink of falling asleep. I can't believe we won, she mumbled, as she slipped into the abyss. 

   That night, I went to sleep the shiniest happiest man alive. That night, I went to sleep a millionaire sex god who had the finest piece of pussy out of anyone he knew. The next morning, I woke up a hungover idiot with a shit job, rent to pay, an astronomical credit card bill, and an excruciating worry about the night that I fucked my friend without a condom.