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    Broken Girls with Strange Frames (Ch. 8)

    Story written on July 26, 2005 by rachel_raj.
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    20 votes, average: 3.30 out of 520 votes, average: 3.30 out of 520 votes, average: 3.30 out of 520 votes, average: 3.30 out of 520 votes, average: 3.30 out of 5 (20 votes, average: 3.30 out of 5)
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    Number of Comments: 11
    Words: 5312
    Story Shortlink: https://lesfan.com/?p=55635
    Author Notes:

    Alice moves in.

     

    “I don’t think so.”

     

    He shrugged and said, “Okaaay.“

     

    “Ugh. God.”

     

    “Hey.” He leaned his head toward me and glanced over at Spencer and Bette to make sure they weren’t listening in. They weren’t; Spencer was explaining something with such animation that you could tell he wished he had a chart and a pointer. Kyle whispered, “You wanna know what I think?”

     

    “No.”

     

    “I think Bette here,” he gestured, “wants a live-in ***** toy.”

     

    “Oh, my God,” I said in an entirely serious tone. “You are so depraved.”

     

    “I’m not depraved,” he said, shaking his head vehemently. “I’m not, but… why else would she ask you to move in with her?”

     

    “She needed a personal assistant and I needed somewhere to live.”

     

    “Yeah, but except for the fact that you slept with her, you guys hardly know each other.”

     

    I bit my lip at the ‘slept with her’ part. “I’ll remind you that when you moved in with Spencer and me, we didn’t know you at all. You just responded to our ad.”

     

    “Yeah,” Kyle agreed, “and then I slept with Spencer.” He shook his head and looked at me as if to say, ‘Okay, what are you not getting here?’

     

    “She doesn’t want a live-in ***** toy.”

     

    “Yeah, but if she did, you’d go for it, right?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively and I frowned. The truth was, I didn’t know that I actually would. I was definitely attracted to Bette. Actually, I thought, cocking my head to the side and watching her as she bent over to pick up the box again, I was very attracted to Bette. And we got along so well.

     

    Maybe that was the whole problem. I was attracted to her, but I didn’t really want to sleep with her because, as ridiculous as it sounds, I would rather be friends with her. And I so did not want to be one of those people who just sleeps with her friends. Even though I had in the past; I was turning over a new leaf.

     

    I thought about voicing this idea to Kyle, but he seemed so engrossed in Fantasy Island that it seemed dumb to interrupt him.

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    Comments

    1. eeeeeeexcellent (mr burns voice) …how long is your entire story anyway? I’m loving the frequent posts, the only other story I read on a regular basis is updated once a WEEK! (dont get any ideas)

    2. Love the quick posts too. This story , and the telling of it, are “all kinds of awesome”. Alice narrating an episode of the show could be hilarious – that’s if any of the TLW writers could remember that she actually used to be funny!

    6. OMG are you sure your not Alice P from an alternate dimension where Alice P really exists, who has gained access to this universe and thought it would be cool to tell her story cause you have her down cold……

    7. This will never be classified as spam, if so it’s the first time I’d be happy for it. I can just imagine Bette holding that pen! I am out of words to describe this story other than awesome. Keep up the good work.

    9. I have a thought, and it might be crazy: this died-in-the-wool Tibetter is not ready for Tina to enter the story yet. Go figure!
      The Catherine Opie show is two months away – TDay, TDay!!! I’m loving this Alice and Bette story so much I don’t want to advance to the day they inevitably meet. Please, put Tina back in the closet! I love this story. It’s so unique, well-written, better than fine!

    10. “nd when I tried to take a break halfway through and see what she was up to, she was hunched over a ridiculous stack of papers with her glasses on and greeted me with, “I thought you were working.”

      I had this instant image of Ebenezer Scrooge browbeating Bob Crachit as hunches over his desk, trying to get heat from that lonely candlestick and the one coal ember dying in the stove across the room.
      Poor Alice. Never f**k your friends. Never work for them, either.
      Ha!

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