So, hello from heaven. Yes, that's where I am now. I am floating above the clouds because guess what? Oh wait, I'll tell you anyway. Santana Lopez, Pop and R&B sensation, and my soulmate, just kissed me. Live. During a better-than-the-origina- well, I wouldn't go that far, but the important thing is that she kissed me. Properly on the lips. In front of thousands of screaming (and now jealous) fangirls and boys.
I turn to Emily, and she has a smile on her face. Don't worry, we agreed that if either one of us snags a certain celebrity, it wouldn't be cheating. Hers was Emma Stone, for some reason. Although why anyone would pick Emma Stone over Santana Lopez to sleep with is beyond me.
"Happy?" She asks. My girlfriend Emily, not Emma Stone.
I nod excitedly. Hell yes I'm happy. Let's not forget our little backstage pass either. Oh yes, this is turning out to be the best birthday Eve ever.
The next 10 minutes is a total blur, Em thrusting the pass into my hands and waving goodbye. Me being ushered backstage to pick up where we left off. It takes a few twists and turns before I'm inside a room with a couple of comfy looking couches, a snack table and a plasma screen hung on the wall. I can't even stand still, knowing that within moment, Santana will come through the door I just walked through, and we'll meet. Then, she'll ask for my number, later, we'll go on dates. Of course after a year at the most, we get married and have genetically flawless children. Honestly, it's a foolproof plan. I've been constructing it for 4 years now.
I hear the door opening and there she is. The angel sent straight from heaven herself. She gives me this wonderfully gorgeous grin and yep, totally a once-over.
She recognizes me. Granted, it's been about 15 minutes, but during that short span of time, I'm sure she's seen a million different faces. I barely manage to find words, "Hi." She looks insanely, insanely hot. No lie, I could rip off all her clothes right now.
"You're over 18, right?"
I nod, she's 19, same age as me. Well, same age as I will be, come this time tomorrow.
"Awesome." She turns around, and even her back is hotter in person. She says something to her bodyguard and points briefly to me. He just curtly nods and promptly leaves the room, closing the door gently behind him. I notice it's not locked. Damn.
Then she turns back to me, that smile gracing her flawless features again. She motions for me to sit on the black leather couch in the center of the room, which looks like the most comfortable one anyway.
Santana sits next to me, elbow propped up on the back of the couch, smile never leaving her face. She grabs my right hand with her left and tangles our fingers together. Oh yeah, did I mention how she's left handed and I'm right handed? It's like we can't be more perfect for each other if we tried.
"I'm Brittany. Brittany Pierce," I tell her, still mesmerized by her features. From her thick locks of dark hair to her dark, mysterious brown eyes to her lips, and- well, you get the point.
"Do you like poems, Brittany?"
I do now. Poems are the best. I say this, and she laughs. It is the best sound ever. Undoubtedly. By a mile. Or ten.
"Ebrio de trementina y largos besos," Oh. Dear. God. It's Spanish. My eyes almost pop out of my head. Santana's fluent in both English and Spanish, everyone knows this, but she pretty much never speaks a word of it in any interviews. Now I know why. People would all fall in love with her. She's reciting poems in Spanish to me. It sounds like a dream, "estival, el velero de las rosas dirijo, torcido hacia la muerte del delgado día, cimentado en el sólido frenesí marino."
It's like with each word, she's moving closer and closer to me, her voice getting softer and softer. I can feel her hot breath against my ear, and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning. My eyes are closing involuntarily and my left hand is digging into the leather couch, almost painfully, I feel like I might rip it with the force of my fingers.
She continues, and I'm about a second away from tearing off her clothes, "pálido y amarrado a mi agua devorante, cruzo en el agrio olor del clima descubierto, aún vestido de gris y sonidos amargos, y una cimera triste de abandonada espuma."
I moan for real this time, and Santana seems pleased. She starts nibbling on my ear now, and my mind is racing a thousand miles a minute. "It's one of my favorites,Ebrio de Trementina," she whispers into my ear.
And just as I turn my head to kiss her again, there's a knock on the door. I don't know whether to be angry or relieved. Just as well. I need to regain my normal heart rate and my breathing to slow down.
Santana gets up off the couch to go see her bodyguard, and I miss her warmth instantly, I miss her breath on my ear, I miss her fingers intertwined with mine, I miss the scent of her shampoo. She's very quick though, and when she returns, Santana's holding a document of sorts, along with an expensive looking pen.
"Hey, sign this for me?" She hands me the document and holds out the pen for me to take while mouthing something I can't decipher to a member of her entourage.
I frown and look down at the piece of paper before me. It looks all very complicated and official, like a contract. But then Santana lifts my chin up with her fingers so that I'm looking directly into her eyes.
"Sign this, and I'm all yours for the night."
Any apprehension in my head evaporates with that. Honestly, I would gladly sell my soul for a night with this girl. Whatever this is, it's worth it. I quickly sign my name on the dotted line, and after what seemed like forever, I'm alone again with Santana.
I don't waste any time, and the second our lips touch, I whimper. Her kiss tastes like midnight, dark, deep and so seductive, I become lost within it. Her tongue learning every secret of my mouth, probing deeper and deeper with each stroke, urging mine to do the same.
It's captivating, tempestuous. Given and taken in silence, with only the hard rasp of our breathing disturbing the air around us as she kisses me with such heated intensity only surpassed, maybe, by my own.
My hands roam all over her body, feeling, remembering as much of it as this stolen moment would allow me.
I keep kissing her, even as I feel I might pass out, because I never, ever, ever want to stop. My body strains to get closer, the atmosphere around us almost cackling with energy that I don't want to fight.
She breaks the kiss first, and I'm about to complain when her lips move down to my neck and whatever words I had die a quick death in my throat. She's sucking delicately at the soft skin there as I fight to get oxygen into my lungs. My hands grip at her shirt, but my coordination is not at its best right now, and it's practically impossible for me to get it off of her, being so extraordinarily distracted.
Luckily, she does it for me while I pull her up for another mind shattering kiss. I'm rapidly losing my head in all things Santana. The building sensations sweeping through me, buzzing through my mind, my senses all pining after her and her alone. Her bra quickly ends up on the floor, as does mine after my shirt magically disappears.
Breaking the kiss again, she slowly moves her tongue in circles down my neck. She moves downward and kneels on the floor even. When I feel her lips around my left breast, I nearly come undone. My hand instinctively move to her hair, grasping it between my fingers as she clamps her teeth around my nipple. A deep moan escapes my throat as her tongue lave all around my breasts. Tingles rumble throughout my body from the sensation that's engulfing my senses.
I don't want to pull her up again, so I get on my knees on the floor with her, so we're at the same level again. My hands move down her body, to her shoulder blades, to her toned stomach, to-
I instantly jump back.
There's no way...
Is that a...
It takes a couple of moments to catch my breath again, but when I do, I see Santana very clearly.
Oh my God. That is definitely not a vagina in her pants.
I just stand there wordlessly, looking Santana up and down. Then up. Then down again. Because I did not see that one coming.
How is this even possible? I feel like I'm in some kind of sick, twisted fantasy of some horny teenager on the internet.
Santana sighs, picking up her discarded garments from the floor, "Yeah, that was my first reaction, too."
My skin is still tingling, and even though my head is turned off, my body seems to say otherwise. My lips kinda want on hers again. My hands miss the warm skin of hers beneath them. Somehow, some way she'd gotten me addicted to her touch, her kiss.
"Leave if you want, but that contract you signed will send you to jail if you tell a single soul about this."
I wasn't intending to anyway. Who'd even believe me?
I don't know what's possessing me to do this, but I don't leave. I do the opposite and take a step closer. Then another, and another. Til I'm standing right in front of where Santana's sitting.
She looks up at me with curiosity in her eyes.
"What are you doing?" She questions, breathless.
"Honestly, I don't know." That's the last thing I say before I close the gap between us again.
Because what would you do. What would you do if the most flawless girl in the entire universe has...well, that. I've spent countless nights just dreaming and fantasizing about Santana. My brain stops working when she talks to me. My heart stops when she kisses me. I'm spellbound when she touches me, anywhere.
I am as good as dead and gone. Delirious. Infatuated. Insanely so that every single cell in my body is yearning after her touch. It sounds insanely nuts, I know. But God, there's just no other way to describe it.
So I kiss her. After the initial shock, when she finally kisses me back, it's the most wonderful feeling in the world. The room is silent but for our breathless whimpers.
When she breaks the kiss, I freeze, my hands instinctively grabs her tighter. I don't want to stop kissing her. Not now, not ever.
"Forget air, I'll breathe you instead." Is the only thing she whispers between our lips, and I don't think I can grin any wider or feel any happier than I do now, before she leans back in and kisses me again. I stand corrected.