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Jan. 20th, 2004 06:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
taratemimaSo, I joked about what if Tiffany Shepis (known for being Troma films cheesecake and one of Danny Elfman's ex-girlfriends) and Lisa Marie (Burton films cheesecake, host of Exposure and Tim Burton's ex-girlfriend) met each other.
PG-13, with lots of swearing and a kiss. While the people are real, it's all fiction.
So I get Lisa to go with me to get something from the store. We finished filming my little interview for one of Uncle Lloyd's projects. She gets some blended 100% fruit juice shit and I get diet soda. We talk about dogs. She is nostalgic for her Chihuahua Poppy, I tell her about Boris and Vlad. I'd cry if my babies died. She is just merely wistful, telling me of cute little things he used to do.
We talk about ex-boyfriends. Yes, she knew Tim dated Danny; Hollywood fucking eats itself, doesn't it? How could I not know that? The fucker liked to play mind games sometimes, telling me about his exes if he thought I wasn't paying enough attention to him. Like I'd get any when he was scoring. Scoring with Steve, maybe. Oh man. Now he's "Mr. Fonda." I felt like saying it out loud, but I can't say one mean thing in front of her.
She's happy for Helena and the baby, but I think she is bullshitting me. I ask her how could she be?
"It's just a matter of going ahead and living your life, waiting for the pain and confusion to end." Okay, David Carradine.
We change the subject and talk about kick-ass hair dyes. More like I talk, she listens, and smiles that odd smile, more like a curved smirk.
Maybe she isn't bullshitting me about being happy. She's just is. I don't get it. No, I can't take my eyes off her anymore than I can shut up. I'm looking at her dark hair, big eyes that could either be kind or looking through me, and her black corset and white tulle outfit. Fuck, her ex's fashion sense rubbed off her or something?
We pay for other stuff, and I go for it. "So, uh, you got any free time or anything? We could go to the movies or something. I mean, a girlfriend-uh, shit, like a date, but if you want a girl whose just a friend, I'm cool-"
She shrugs. "I may. I'll let you know after I check my schedule. I may decide on other things." Then she gives me that smirk, with this stare at me. If she were a guy, I'd say he wanted to fuck me. It couldn't be, and even if she did, how the fuck would I handle this sober?
Oh well, better than saying nothing and wondering. Problem was, I am still wondering and she is just walking back to the studio.
We turn a corner and she grabs me. She pushes her fingers through my hair (blonde, Tiff, today it is blonde) and pulls my mouth to hers. I push my mouth closer to hers, kissing her hard and fast, but she kisses harder and faster. Our teeth clash, our tongues slides against each other and into our
mouths. Our kiss ends with me nibbling on her bottom lip and opening my eyes.
She is still smirking. "I've decided," she says
Holy shit. Did she ever.
PG-13, with lots of swearing and a kiss. While the people are real, it's all fiction.
So I get Lisa to go with me to get something from the store. We finished filming my little interview for one of Uncle Lloyd's projects. She gets some blended 100% fruit juice shit and I get diet soda. We talk about dogs. She is nostalgic for her Chihuahua Poppy, I tell her about Boris and Vlad. I'd cry if my babies died. She is just merely wistful, telling me of cute little things he used to do.
We talk about ex-boyfriends. Yes, she knew Tim dated Danny; Hollywood fucking eats itself, doesn't it? How could I not know that? The fucker liked to play mind games sometimes, telling me about his exes if he thought I wasn't paying enough attention to him. Like I'd get any when he was scoring. Scoring with Steve, maybe. Oh man. Now he's "Mr. Fonda." I felt like saying it out loud, but I can't say one mean thing in front of her.
She's happy for Helena and the baby, but I think she is bullshitting me. I ask her how could she be?
"It's just a matter of going ahead and living your life, waiting for the pain and confusion to end." Okay, David Carradine.
We change the subject and talk about kick-ass hair dyes. More like I talk, she listens, and smiles that odd smile, more like a curved smirk.
Maybe she isn't bullshitting me about being happy. She's just is. I don't get it. No, I can't take my eyes off her anymore than I can shut up. I'm looking at her dark hair, big eyes that could either be kind or looking through me, and her black corset and white tulle outfit. Fuck, her ex's fashion sense rubbed off her or something?
We pay for other stuff, and I go for it. "So, uh, you got any free time or anything? We could go to the movies or something. I mean, a girlfriend-uh, shit, like a date, but if you want a girl whose just a friend, I'm cool-"
She shrugs. "I may. I'll let you know after I check my schedule. I may decide on other things." Then she gives me that smirk, with this stare at me. If she were a guy, I'd say he wanted to fuck me. It couldn't be, and even if she did, how the fuck would I handle this sober?
Oh well, better than saying nothing and wondering. Problem was, I am still wondering and she is just walking back to the studio.
We turn a corner and she grabs me. She pushes her fingers through my hair (blonde, Tiff, today it is blonde) and pulls my mouth to hers. I push my mouth closer to hers, kissing her hard and fast, but she kisses harder and faster. Our teeth clash, our tongues slides against each other and into our
mouths. Our kiss ends with me nibbling on her bottom lip and opening my eyes.
She is still smirking. "I've decided," she says
Holy shit. Did she ever.
