Pucker up!
November 2, 1981
It’s an angry kiss- not the kind you’d expect from someone Alice’s size or demeanor. She’s tired of the talking, the arguing, the sound of two voices one-upping each other as if they’re climbing a ladder on which each rung is another point, another raise in pitch and volume. She turns away for a moment, wishing she would just shut the fuck up, but she never does. And perhaps it’s the fact that she makes valid points and Alice does not that really peeves her. Perhaps it’s the fact that Alice’s temper has colored her red, and made her hasty that makes her do it, simply because she doesn’t know what the hell else to do.
So she grabs her face, one hand slipping to the back of her neck, to shut her up with the force of her lips on Millicent’s, and the powerful feeling of her finger digging into the skin of the nape of her neck- and despite the fact that she’s a whole head shorter than the other woman. She’s on her toes, and for a moment she starts to enjoy the taste of frustration on Millicent’s lips; it’s salty, and it burns, but it can’t last forever.
When she pulls away, she wipes the lipstick from her mouth with the back of her hand and sighs. Perhaps it was the wrong thing to do, or perhaps it wasn’t. But she never speaks of it again.
