Sexual Content (Part 2)

(Cheyenne, 1988)

{I know this sucks but Cheyenne pressured me into writing. Ha, just kidding. After i wrote the story posted below, i made a deal with her that if she wrote a tom story for me, i'd try and write another Nikki story. So, this is what i did for her. I hope her Tom story is much better. I don't know why the couch isn't there, actually. And does Nikki Sixx even drink beer at home? I know he's a fan of Jack Daniels and such, but i'm not sure about beer. Well, i do. Just not at home, you know what i'm saying? Anyway, i assume there wouldn't be a couch because Nikki had obviously done something with it. And Cheyenne's only feeling so cruddy because of her "Stressful" job and other factors that i didn't go into detail about because i don't necessarily know what they are. Sorry for such a long explanation, i know i can rant. But, these explanations sort of help, don't they?}

With so much going on outside, i didn't notice what had happened inside. In fact, it wasn't until Mr. Halpern's car drove up and Nikki scurried back into the house, that i noticed our living room couch was gone. That's also when i noticed Nikki was still in his slippers.

"What happened to the sofa?" I asked.

"Nothing," Nikki answered, then he peered out the window to watch Mr. Halpern examine his swing set. "Loser," he said, smirking.

Kayla headed for the front door as she said, "I'll call you later, Chey. I'm going home." She closed the wood door behind her and left.

"Nikki, the couch that used to be in the living room is gone. Did you know that?"

"Of course i know," he scoffed. Then he said, "What time is it?"

"It's almost six."

"Good," said Nikki, then he slapped his slippers over to the fridge, opened it, and pulled a six-pack out of the space where vegetables are supposed to be. I sighed. He said, "Not you, too, Chey. Not today."

I sighed again and went to our bedroom.

My ears buzzed as i walked down the hall, past the gaping space in the living room, past Gizmo who was cowering beneath a recliner.

Inside, i lay down on my bed and stared up at the ceiling. I felt like i had a dictionary sitting on my chest. The Oxford English, unabridged. I took a deep breath, tried to relax, but i felt like my life was suffocating me.

Reaching my hand to my face, i felt the bump on the ridge of my nose, ran my fingertip across my straight teeth, traced my cheekbones. Picking up the ends of my long straight hair, i checked for split ends.