Cream, Crime & Cupcakes

Chapter 4 Miranda

Chapter 4 Miranda

I tear around the corner on my bike and hit a beam in the road (where the hell did that come from?). I am being catapulted and end up in the middle of a pile of whipped cream. I am l*****g my way through the mash until I, to my joy, end up at a divine body. How lucky I am to find this body under this glorious white stuff. Keenly I lick my way to the top (it seems a bit inappropriate to immediately go down on a stranger). Mmmmmmmmmmm this body looks really hot and it tastes heavenly. To be honest I am really curious for ... While my hormones try to direct me downwards, I suddenly hear alarm bells ringing and, in disgust, I look into the face of the prick that had to steal away my parking space for no reason this afternoon. I do not know how to get away from him as fast as possible. How is it possible that such a jerk can have such a nice body? The butterflies in my stomach are gone in a heartbeat and vaguely I hear Catapult’s ‘Let your hair hang down’ blasting in the background.

What does Veronique want from me now, goes through my mind, while slowly it is dawning upon me that I am dreaming. The alarm bells are real, they are my doorbell, and the music is my mobile phone’s ring tone. Dizzily, I answer my phone and hear Veronique bellow in my ear: ‘Twerp, we are at your door, where are you?’ Tripping over my flip-flops, I hurry out of bed, bump my toe and, after a cry of pain, I limp to the door shouting into the phone: ’Sorry, I’m coming.’

Now I know which important thing I forgot. I forgot to set my alarm! Luckily, I had a shower only three hours before, my clothes are at the ready, as well as a bottle of breakfast fruit (I wouldn’t get anything else down this early). In the meantime, Veronique and Jessica are circling around me. ‘How is it possible that you oversleep while I couldn’t close my eyes at all?’ Veronique cries out indignantly. Still groggy because of the sudden disturbance of sleep, I falter back to the bathroom with my painful toe in order to wake myself with a splash of cold water. Not that it really helps, but some toothpaste and a comb through my untamed manes does help me feel a bit refreshed.

With a shock, I realise that I have a plane to catch and the adrenaline that rushes through my veins finally gets me into gear. I dress myself in a hurry, grab my suitcase, and check my papers again. I hurry to the kitchen, yes, I did turn off the gas, on to the bathroom, oh that’s right, I didn’t take a shower so of course the shower isn’t running, to the bedroom to check if the window is closed, back to the bathroom, was that tap closed or wasn’t it and then Jessica and Veronique intervene and drag me out of the house to the car, where Kim is already waiting for us.

I put my suitcase in the trunk of Kim’s spacey SUV and join Veronique in the backseat, while Jessica gets into the shotgun seat. ‘What took you so long?’ Kim grunts mopingly. ‘Now we have to hurry to be in time.’

The moment I want to apologise, Veronique starts shaking with laughter. ‘What’s the matter now?’ Jessica asks looking back. Veronique is only able to point in my direction. Now Jessica starts to laugh as well. I, still groggy, look behind me to see what’s going on. This brings out new laughter. Slowly, it dawns upon me that I am the object of this hilarity. I shrug and shake my head, while in the meantime these two ladies howl with laughter and I reach for my head to end up with my clean panties in my hand. Slowly, I begin to realise what’s going on. My panties had been lying ready on my top. In my hurry to get dressed, I had pulled them over my head together with my top where they got stuck. Sleepy headed as I was, I hadn't noticed I was still wearing my sleeping panties (luckily still reasonably clean after only three hours of sleep). Now I understand where this hilarity comes from. A little bit of extra sleep in the car is out of the question after this wardrobe malfunction.

Because I am wide awake now, I decide to tell about my wonderful dream which progressed into a nightmare. Although all four of us are more or less unwanted bachelorettes, we can, probably because we have to do without, completely swoon over a good-looking guy. Last year, a real hunk moved in diagonally across from Jessica's and we almost lick our lips each time he appears on his roof terrace. We resemble those office women in the cola commercial who gather by the window each time a stud shows up.

Well, we too yearn for our moments of pleasure and yes, fair is fair, a greater part of our oncoming holiday will probably be spent making comments on all the men passing by while we are on a terrace enjoying a tasty cocktail. I’m lucky that in this moment I don't know that this holiday will elapse quite differently from what we are imagining.

But before I give all the details of my dream, I first have to unveil my parking drama to my friends.

What I love about my friends is that I know in advance that they will fully sympathise with me and indeed, the moment I tell them how the prick shoots into ‘my’ parking space, my friends moan as loudly as I do and I sense their vicarious anger. After we have calmed down, I continue to tell them about my dream.

I make them enjoy my crazy ride on my bike, my tumble through the air and then tell them graphically: ‘Imagine you land in the middle of a mountain of delicious whipped cream and I don’t mean the canned one but the cream you whip yourself, the firm and sweet kind, and that you feel that inside that mountain of whipped cream there is something firm, muscular and meaty.’ Telling it now, I feel the shivers of pleasure racing through my body again, I feel my n*****s harden and how they long to be touched, but I caution myself to calm down. Next I tell them how, in my dream, I begin l*****g and how I enjoy the lovely taste of whipped cream. l*****g that firm body isn’t bad either. What I find particularly tantalising is the tension. The tension about what (kind of) delightful creature will emerge from under that whipped cream.

While telling this, I all at once notice how dreams seem so unrealistic when you are awake, for one moment you are riding your bike down the lane in warm sun rays (while it’s the heart of winter now) and the next you are lying n***d on an overgrown road-side on top of a man who is just as n***d. Fortunately, we do not have to think about logic now.

‘How big was he really?’ Veronique cries out, being the ‘naughtiest’ of the four of us and who doesn’t shun to say what’s what concerning s*x. Compared to her, I often feel timid, certainly when I remember that, even in my dreams, I am afraid to go for the best piece. Even in my dreams I let the chance to enjoy myself boundlessly pass by. How I would love to have the daring that Veronique possesses to take matters into my own hands (sniggering I laugh about this coincidental play of words). Even now I stagger with a fiery red head, that that question is not the most important one. Which, in turn, makes the other three laugh out loud sarcastically. And to be honest, they are right, of course. I was as curious as hell, so why did I have to be so decent in my dreams? When you finally have the chance to go on exploring without fear of STD’s ...

‘Just let her finish the story’, Jessica says, who notices that my thoughts tend to stray from the story again. With lots of details I tell about how wonderfully that body tasted. After what, to be exactly? A bit salty but spicy too, a bit earthly and tantalizing on the tongue, nice and warm. My mouth literally starts to water, when I remember that taste. Certainly when I remember how lovely that body felt in my dreams. Hard and yet soft simultaneously, how his n*****s hardened under my tongue, how the muscles on his chest and in his arms slightly began to tremble, how I felt his heart beating and how I felt his breathing interchange from shallow to deep, how his breath stroke my skin and again I get goose bumps when remembering it.

My peace of mind might benefit from the fact that I have arrived, both in my story as well as in my dream, at the disclosure of the face. I gladly notice that my friends think it is just as much an anti-c****x as I do when there is such a jerk behind such glorious muscles.

‘Was that prick a hunk in real life as well?’ Kim asks. ‘Come to think of it, I wouldn’t really know. He was gone so fast and I was so outraged about it that I can’t really remember what his body looked like’, I stammer.

Before more questions arrive, Kim cries out happily: ‘What luck, they just removed the road block.’ Before us we just see the car hauling those orange things away.

In the meantime, we are approaching Eindhoven. Luckily, it’s not so crowded on the road at night so we can make up for the lost time. Just as I want to say that we are making progress, the car starts to sway.