entry #15 - sweet young Cherry ain't sweet no more

                                    

                                          
⚠️ mentions of drugs and sex ⚠️
October 5, 1992
Victoria, you were born 
the same day as Mata Hari
do the elusive femme fatale 
& sleep with a different man everyday !
فيكتوريا
Today has been a slightly less hectic day than the last few ones. I actually managed to make it to the university this morning, I delivered my only due paper and, very surprisingly, I got a decent grade. Chrissie was so proud of me that she offered me lunch at the campus, and held me tight against her DD cups. Later in the afternoon, we caught up with her beloved. Chris and Matt fucking Cameron showed by in front of our University, on top of Matt's fancy but ugly Harley-Davidson, and we went for a ride altogether. I made Matt eat my dust and smell my exhausts as I overspeeded him for a solid hour, much to my backpack Chrissie's terror ... and Chris's, since he thought I was going to kill his girlfriend. But I didn't, and I'm proud. 
Then we all headed to a pub, and had dinner together. Matt rode along with me on my way back home, while Chrissie and Chris stayed around to do the lovebirds for the rest of the evening. I did the Soundgarden groupie for all of the afternoon, and some of the night, but in a very friendly way. I love Matt like I'd love a brother, he's a very nice guy and he's no creep. I don't wish to see him naked, and he doesn't even flirt with me or with just about any other girl because he has a steady girlfriend and he's loyal to a fault. One thing I've learned from my permanence in Seattle, is that the drummer is generally the nicest member of any band. Drummers generally love the bikes just like they love their drums, for some reason unexplained. They have nice bods. And they generally are the ones with the steady girlfriends by the side of the stage. Um... red flag incoming.
I've gathered some more information about crush over the last few days, because it seemed legit, and Kim told me he had a steady girlfriend until, maybe, a year ago. Then they split up, and he disappeared. Then he reappeared, mingled with Chrissie for a while, until he drove her insane ... and she dumped him. Besides that, nothing is known about the private life of the elusive man who serves drumming duties in Phellus in Chains.
A solid week into talking to Sean, my nerves are still intact and I feel good as I've never felt before. My favourite moment of the day, these days, is getting back home from a long day, having a post-shower beer and a cigarette, and talking nonsense to him through the phone until I fall asleep. Making mental plans for when we'll finally catch up again. I wanna make him eat my dust and smell my exhausts like I did with Cameron. But I also want him to overspeed me and give me a solid middle finger up. I want to kiss him like we kissed that night at the party. And I also low-key wanna get into his ugly checkered boxers, at some point. 
He keeps asking me to join him where he is, and I keep tuning him down by telling him that I'm busy. I've done the vague, and I haven't told him that the girls and I have planned a road trip to catch up with Phellus in Chains later this week. In two days from now, actually. I want to see the look on his face, as he sees me popping out of the backstage when his hopes on the matters had lessened to zero. The look he's gonna pull off at the sight of me will be my selected, infallible judgment parameter to see if he's worth investing any more of my attention and my feelings into. 
I don't romanticise Sean, I don't even wish to romanticise him in the short term. I know he's a rocker dude, and I know he may only be into this linking thing with me for the fun of it. For the thrill and for the ego boost, 'cause it's pretty blatant that he's less interested in fucking me than I'm interested in fucking him. He has easy access pussy wherever he goes, bet he takes profit of it from time to time because, reasonably, he's a man like another one, aggravated by the fact that he plays in a rock band. But I find it pretty sweet that he keeps hitting me up and chasing me while doing his Fentanyl ... instead of getting blown by the first chick of fortune. But it doesn't mean that it's going to stay like that for any longer than a few weeks. It doesn't mean that I've somehow pinned him down. It would be ridiculous to even think about it... I mean, we haven't even fucked. He's probably just trying to keep in touch with me 'cause I'm just as weird as him. And I have tits, so we may as well smash at some point.