61 Frames Per Second by John Constantine Today in Nerve's videogame blog: Golden Axe dresses down to its skivvies. Plus: Spore takes on evolution, reaches a stalemate, and takes evolution out for a beer.
So Dave brought Simone over. She was very pretty and nervous and had consumed a Jim Beam sample on the airplane. I plied us each with champagne. We were stuttering and standing in a triangle, sort of wavering like a triple-mirage. I
said, "I can't believe you're here. What was it like not talking all the way
here?"
"Oh, David tried to get me to talk right there in the airport," Simone giggled. "He said, 'Lisa will never know.' I wouldn't do it though."
"I knew it! I knew he'd try to break the rules, and I knew you wouldn't let him!"
They started to tell me about getting pulled over for doing 105 in a 65 mph zone, but I couldn't follow, I was in a dream. Then the other guests arrived (I had thrown a last-minute party in Simone's honor). Simone played a tape. It was "I Wanna Kiss You All Over." She told everyone it was her song to me. Then "I'm In Love With Your Girlfriend" came on, and Simone said to Dave: "This is my song to you." No one knew what to say. She was unstoppable: inappropriate, adorable and deadly.
At one minute to midnight, the three of us froze and looked at the clock. When the two hands met, we ascended the stairs to my bedroom without a word. I don't remember how it happened, who started kissing whom, how we got into bed. After a dozen or so minutes of complex making out, there was a knock on my door. It was my friend the thirty-two-year-old virgin cartographer. He came in and stared at the maps on my walls for a really long time. That got me to thinking about my other guests — one of whom was Cat, a well-dressed, very witty woman I'd been attracted to for a long time but never had sex with because we were friends and it seemed like it might make things messy. She also had a crush on Dave. I thought maybe she was lonely downstairs, maybe she knew what was going on and felt left out. I decided to go kiss her, and left Dave and
Simone with the cartographer. Cat was surprised but yielding. She kissed quick and playful, like a bubbly drink. Feeling like a good hostess, I went back upstairs. The cartographer was gone. Soon I was grinding my hip bone into Simone's clitoris and thinking about that scene in Judith Krantz's Princess Daisy where the long-nailed lady seduces Ham's wife on the yacht. I was giving Dave a hand job at the same time, trying to coordinate his pants with her sighs and my own thrill at three or four hands doing fluttery things to me. I suddenly got a longing for all of Dave, and after he and I made Simone come, we had simple sex (missionary!) while she propped herself up on one elbow, smiling. We fell asleep with me curled up against Dave and Simone curled up against me.
The next day Simone and I traded panties and we went out for Chinese food and karaoke. Then we bought chocolate-covered raisins and Smartfood cheddar popcorn (mix them together for the most decadent salt and sugar mix you ever tasted) and rented scary movies. After the first one, Dave said he wanted to be alone with me for a minute. He took me into my office and said, "Pretend you just met me." I pressed him against the wall and kissed him and he said, "Oh my god." He said, "Shut off the light." I did. He said, "Get down on the ground." I did. He turned the light on and walked out. I lay there like a fool, quivering with desire. Back in the living room, I heard Dave saying to Simone, "Who do you like kissing more? It's her, isn't it? I saw how you kissed her."
"Dave," I said, "stop bothering Simone. Let's go to the intellectual cafe." The intellectual cafe is just some coffee house in Dover, but it's funny and somewhat touching when small-town people get together and talk about Sartre, Jews and military maneuvers loud enough for people at the next table to hear. I like to go and do the same.
Dave wanted to change Simone's hairstyle first. He parted her hair in the center and braided it, then tied it with a red ribbon. He pulled two strands down on either side of her face. She was between his legs; I was on the couch with them, my knees drawn up to my chin, watching them. Simone looking at me with big eyes, Dave's hands on her head, touching her ears, her neck. My own ears and neck tingled. I felt a breeze picking up my hair, even though we were indoors.
We came home from the intellectual cafe and did it again. Then I came into my office to type this. I can just imagine what my boyfriend is doing to Simone in the bedroom right now. Well, better him than me — I'm tuckered out!
said, "I can't believe you're here. What was it like not talking all the way
here?"
Simone with the cartographer. Cat was surprised but yielding. She kissed quick and playful, like a bubbly drink. Feeling like a good hostess, I went back upstairs. The cartographer was gone. Soon I was grinding my hip bone into Simone's clitoris and thinking about that scene in Judith Krantz's Princess Daisy where the long-nailed lady seduces Ham's wife on the yacht. I was giving Dave a hand job at the same time, trying to coordinate his pants with her sighs and my own thrill at three or four hands doing fluttery things to me. I suddenly got a longing for all of Dave, and after he and I made Simone come, we had simple sex (missionary!) while she propped herself up on one elbow, smiling. We fell asleep with me curled up against Dave and Simone curled up against me.
