Post by Benny on Jun 7, 2017 20:21:09 GMT
She grabbed a couple of malternatives out of the fridge and pushed the door shut with her hip. It took a second attempt to complete the manoeuvre but the door eventually closed before Meredith could walk away. Tonight is part celebration, part commiseration for her; while The Jester recently lost in NKP against short time rival Kelly James, she will soon have the chance to spread her wings and compete for VORTEX in a tag team contest - with more tag team possibilities looming just over the horizon!
But her friend and roommate, Dickie Harter, is fresh off a title win in Portland Pro; he won the 2017 Tournament of Roses and beat Rose City Champion, Steven Kingsley in the final to win the belt as an added bonus. And she’s happy for his success, she really is.
She’s happy Dickie has his title. She’s happy her ex-girlfriend, Kimmi Keister has an FGA World Tag Team title shot coming up at All Star Showdown. She’s happy her friends Annie and Katie just got a title shot in NKP, and will soon have another in WCS. Or how Tommy, Jensen, and Mason all have had title shots in NKP before her - well they did win the feud against her!
“Here you go,” Meredith says, handing the Smirnoff Ice over to her friend before she slumps down next to him.
“Thanks,” Dickie graciously accepts the drink as he lets Meredith cuddle up to him; he may be on top of the world right now, but he knows that his friend has been feeling down lately. It’s not that The Jester’s career hasn’t had any success - it hasn’t yet - but they’re both sure that good things come to those who wait. But between Kimmi cheating on her with Emi that night in Europe, and her cell phone getting stolen a few weeks ago, things haven’t been going her way lately.
That’s why they have their spirit coolers, and some Judd Apatow movies lined up, and a night in together to help cheer her up. And because he loves that Popstar movie.
Dickie wraps his arm around Meredith’s shoulder as the pair of them sit on the sofa together. He starts up the movie - it’s time for Bridesmaids! - and they lay back, relaxing on this Wednesday night.
“Now, did you know Rhodes … the cop who’s played by Chris O’Dowd,” Dickie starts as Meredith feigns interest in his trivia, “was supposed to be American. But the makers of the film just loved his Irish accent so much they let him keep it.”
“Really?” Meredith replies, before taking another large mouthful of lemony goodness. She didn’t have the heart to tell Dickie she hates this movie.
“It’s true,” an oblivious Dickie continues. Meredith’s head is placed on his shoulder now, her hand drunkenly roaming across his chest. “But he’s not even my favorite part of this movie…” he keeps going as Meredith’s mind wanders; she knows one thing that always helps to cheer her up in times like this. But she’s barely had any since the break up with Kimmi. She’ll sleep with Dom Harter when he’s at home, but she feels like she’s fallen down the pecking order. There was that night with Hunter Werth back in April, and a night with Annie Dupree after their tag match last month. But that’s not enough.
That’s not now. That won’t help her get out of this funk; to get over the fact she’s only won one match in her eight months long career - and she didn’t even get the pinfall in that tag match! Or the fact that Kimmi is off galavanting around with God knows who - the cheater isn’t supposed to move on faster than the cheated! Or how the wrestling community views her as a joke. That may be the attire, or the gimmick though, she can’t be sure. And her judgment and decision making may be slightly impaired right now so who really knows? How about the fact that Dickie … this cute, funny guy who likes her … who debuted after her, has managed to win a title before her. Who won more matches in that tournament than she’s ever won … whose chest feels so smooth to touch … who’s been giving most of his attention to that Sammie girl … whose pants look a little tight right now…
Her hand wanders down his stomach towards his belt buckle, but he’s currently unheeding; his attention drawn by the ‘fascinating’ on screen antics of Kristen Wiig. Dickie takes another sip of his Smirnoff Ice and turns his head towards Meredith, smiling down at her as he does so.
Carpe Diem, is the rough translation of what she thinks to herself as Meredith tilts her head upwards, placing a tender, albeit drunken kiss across Dickie’s lips.
It’s a win/win in her mind; she’ll get to relieve the tension, and cheer herself up. And frankly she hasn’t seen Dickie bring any women home since they’ve lived together - it was a money saving effort to begin with, but they’ve grown closer. Obviously.
The kiss is unabating; Meredith slides over, positioning herself across his lap as Dickie finally unclenches his jaw. A momentary break as Meredith reaches down to lift her shirt up and off over her head. She leans back in to kiss Dickie again - only to get stopped by a raised palm clasped over her mouth. And for the first time Meredith sees the panic in his eyes. “What is wrong, Dickie?” she murmurs in her sweet French accent.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa…” he trails for a second as he tries desperately to stop himself from glancing down at his friend’s partially exposed bosom. “...we can’t, uh, we-we-we can’t do this…”
“We can,” she whispers back in response, “it does not have to lead to anything…” Meredith leans in again, but again Dickie stops her.
“We can’t. I can’t…” Dickie states, wide-eyed and shaking his head.
“Why not?” her tone turns more assertive, “Do you not think I am beautiful?
You told me I was beautiful, Dickie…” Meredith practically purrs as she reaches back to unclasp her bra, allowing one of Victoria’s Secrets to drop onto Dickie’s lap. She grabs his hands and forces them onto her breasts, cupping them uneasily as Dickie fumbles, struggling to break free of her freakishly strong grip.
“You are, Merry,” he almost pleads, “you’re, uh, like the most beautiful girl I know…” he stresses the word; their eyes meet once again and Meredith can finally see the panic, and the urgency in his eyes. “...and that’s the problem.”
“Oh…” Meredith gasps as she lets go. Dickie’s hands drop down, and he immediately hands her back her bra as Meredith covers up her modesty. “...you are … gay?” she asks, and Dickie nods shyly. Her skin takes on a reddish hue as embarrassment consumes Meredith Lloris; she had just assumed Dickie was straight, she had just assumed he’d go along with this idea. And like it. She never assumed she’d be rejected in this manner.
“Yeah, I’m … gay,” Dickie admits as Meredith slides off his lap onto the sofa next to him. The pair sit there in silence for a few moments, neither able to think of what to say next. What do you say in this situation? Meredith grabs her shirt again and puts in back on as she pushes herself up off the sofa.
Fuck, fuck, fuck… Meredith curses herself out in her mind as she weighs the ramifications. Or, as well as she can in her current condition. She can feel the tears forming in her eyes as she sits there.
“I am sorry, Dickie,” she mumbles, barely audible, “please forgive me…” but she runs away before Dickie can respond, slamming her bedroom door behind her as she goes. Dickie Harter now sits alone in the living room of their shared apartment, verbalizing his thoughts for a moment as he says, “I swear to God she was a lesbian…” and he sighs. This night may weigh on both their minds for a while to come.
But her friend and roommate, Dickie Harter, is fresh off a title win in Portland Pro; he won the 2017 Tournament of Roses and beat Rose City Champion, Steven Kingsley in the final to win the belt as an added bonus. And she’s happy for his success, she really is.
She’s happy Dickie has his title. She’s happy her ex-girlfriend, Kimmi Keister has an FGA World Tag Team title shot coming up at All Star Showdown. She’s happy her friends Annie and Katie just got a title shot in NKP, and will soon have another in WCS. Or how Tommy, Jensen, and Mason all have had title shots in NKP before her - well they did win the feud against her!
“Here you go,” Meredith says, handing the Smirnoff Ice over to her friend before she slumps down next to him.
“Thanks,” Dickie graciously accepts the drink as he lets Meredith cuddle up to him; he may be on top of the world right now, but he knows that his friend has been feeling down lately. It’s not that The Jester’s career hasn’t had any success - it hasn’t yet - but they’re both sure that good things come to those who wait. But between Kimmi cheating on her with Emi that night in Europe, and her cell phone getting stolen a few weeks ago, things haven’t been going her way lately.
That’s why they have their spirit coolers, and some Judd Apatow movies lined up, and a night in together to help cheer her up. And because he loves that Popstar movie.
Dickie wraps his arm around Meredith’s shoulder as the pair of them sit on the sofa together. He starts up the movie - it’s time for Bridesmaids! - and they lay back, relaxing on this Wednesday night.
“Now, did you know Rhodes … the cop who’s played by Chris O’Dowd,” Dickie starts as Meredith feigns interest in his trivia, “was supposed to be American. But the makers of the film just loved his Irish accent so much they let him keep it.”
“Really?” Meredith replies, before taking another large mouthful of lemony goodness. She didn’t have the heart to tell Dickie she hates this movie.
“It’s true,” an oblivious Dickie continues. Meredith’s head is placed on his shoulder now, her hand drunkenly roaming across his chest. “But he’s not even my favorite part of this movie…” he keeps going as Meredith’s mind wanders; she knows one thing that always helps to cheer her up in times like this. But she’s barely had any since the break up with Kimmi. She’ll sleep with Dom Harter when he’s at home, but she feels like she’s fallen down the pecking order. There was that night with Hunter Werth back in April, and a night with Annie Dupree after their tag match last month. But that’s not enough.
That’s not now. That won’t help her get out of this funk; to get over the fact she’s only won one match in her eight months long career - and she didn’t even get the pinfall in that tag match! Or the fact that Kimmi is off galavanting around with God knows who - the cheater isn’t supposed to move on faster than the cheated! Or how the wrestling community views her as a joke. That may be the attire, or the gimmick though, she can’t be sure. And her judgment and decision making may be slightly impaired right now so who really knows? How about the fact that Dickie … this cute, funny guy who likes her … who debuted after her, has managed to win a title before her. Who won more matches in that tournament than she’s ever won … whose chest feels so smooth to touch … who’s been giving most of his attention to that Sammie girl … whose pants look a little tight right now…
Her hand wanders down his stomach towards his belt buckle, but he’s currently unheeding; his attention drawn by the ‘fascinating’ on screen antics of Kristen Wiig. Dickie takes another sip of his Smirnoff Ice and turns his head towards Meredith, smiling down at her as he does so.
Carpe Diem, is the rough translation of what she thinks to herself as Meredith tilts her head upwards, placing a tender, albeit drunken kiss across Dickie’s lips.
It’s a win/win in her mind; she’ll get to relieve the tension, and cheer herself up. And frankly she hasn’t seen Dickie bring any women home since they’ve lived together - it was a money saving effort to begin with, but they’ve grown closer. Obviously.
The kiss is unabating; Meredith slides over, positioning herself across his lap as Dickie finally unclenches his jaw. A momentary break as Meredith reaches down to lift her shirt up and off over her head. She leans back in to kiss Dickie again - only to get stopped by a raised palm clasped over her mouth. And for the first time Meredith sees the panic in his eyes. “What is wrong, Dickie?” she murmurs in her sweet French accent.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa…” he trails for a second as he tries desperately to stop himself from glancing down at his friend’s partially exposed bosom. “...we can’t, uh, we-we-we can’t do this…”
“We can,” she whispers back in response, “it does not have to lead to anything…” Meredith leans in again, but again Dickie stops her.
“We can’t. I can’t…” Dickie states, wide-eyed and shaking his head.
“Why not?” her tone turns more assertive, “Do you not think I am beautiful?
You told me I was beautiful, Dickie…” Meredith practically purrs as she reaches back to unclasp her bra, allowing one of Victoria’s Secrets to drop onto Dickie’s lap. She grabs his hands and forces them onto her breasts, cupping them uneasily as Dickie fumbles, struggling to break free of her freakishly strong grip.
“You are, Merry,” he almost pleads, “you’re, uh, like the most beautiful girl I know…” he stresses the word; their eyes meet once again and Meredith can finally see the panic, and the urgency in his eyes. “...and that’s the problem.”
“Oh…” Meredith gasps as she lets go. Dickie’s hands drop down, and he immediately hands her back her bra as Meredith covers up her modesty. “...you are … gay?” she asks, and Dickie nods shyly. Her skin takes on a reddish hue as embarrassment consumes Meredith Lloris; she had just assumed Dickie was straight, she had just assumed he’d go along with this idea. And like it. She never assumed she’d be rejected in this manner.
“Yeah, I’m … gay,” Dickie admits as Meredith slides off his lap onto the sofa next to him. The pair sit there in silence for a few moments, neither able to think of what to say next. What do you say in this situation? Meredith grabs her shirt again and puts in back on as she pushes herself up off the sofa.
Fuck, fuck, fuck… Meredith curses herself out in her mind as she weighs the ramifications. Or, as well as she can in her current condition. She can feel the tears forming in her eyes as she sits there.
“I am sorry, Dickie,” she mumbles, barely audible, “please forgive me…” but she runs away before Dickie can respond, slamming her bedroom door behind her as she goes. Dickie Harter now sits alone in the living room of their shared apartment, verbalizing his thoughts for a moment as he says, “I swear to God she was a lesbian…” and he sighs. This night may weigh on both their minds for a while to come.