WOOO-FUCKIN-HOOOO HI THERE LOVELY LADIES, GENTS, NONBINARY, TRANS, OTHER GENDER CATEGORY , WHATEVER IDK EVERYBODY WHO READS AND LOVES YOI JUST AS MUCH AS I DO ,

WELCOME TO THE 100TH PART SPECIAL

A/N: I apologize profusely for the terribly long wait. I love you all and I promise this hiatus is over! I've had some very serious writers block and emotional problems these past few months but I'm here. So much love for all my readersxx

Play Sex and Candy//Marcy Playground on Repeat

Finding perfect records is difficult.

Many in the old record shop were scratched and abused by previous owners of the electric age of hair bands, cocaine, and valley girls. Many had been chipped or scratched by party-goers or had beer spilt upon them during a party by some pair of drunken college kids making out on the turn table like the filthy animals they were.

Sara Crispino sighed deeply, holding a Tame Impala record cover in her hands she placed it back carefully. Her eyes drifted across the messy row of LPs and 45s. The culture and graphic art apparent over the fossils used once vigorously in the past left to rot in run-down thrift stores and cheap shops. Her eyes raised up to meet the eyes of the woman standing across from her on the aisle.

She had short, wavy scarlet hair with two bright yellow bobby-pins holding her hair in place at either side of her face. Her nails matched the hairband, and her fingers twirled a lollipop tucked inside her cherry glossed lips. With narrowed, icy blue eyes that matched her faux fur mini shrug, Sara blinked in surprised at the intensity of her gaze on her. She turned her eyes downward, and pretended to look for another album LP to discover and examine.

The softly playing 90's pop music was drowned out by Sala's racing mind, and the soft, wet sounds the other girl was making with the lollipop. She probably wants to fight me, was her immediate and most prominent thought, and then it was, She's a prostitute, and probably thinks I am too and wants me off her turf!

Either way Sala looked at it, she had the feeling she was about to get absolutely crushed in some cat fight that would go viral and Michele would be pissed.

Sara tried to make her way toward the exit slowly, hoping the girl's attention would be drawn on by something else. As she neared the door and the end of the aisle, her eyes fell upon the blue suede double-band platform sandals. It was the girl standing before her.

She already was planning to buy color correcting makeup so Michele wouldn't notice her black eye.

"Hey, you," She said, a thick Russian accent lacing her words. "Come home with me."

"Eh-Ehh?!" Sala cried out, taking a step back.

"You heard me. What is your name?"

"S-Sara, but I-I don't have money to pay you..."

"What? Pay me? Why would you—" The girl erupted into laughter, a full, luscious sound. Sara's eyes were wide. "You think I'm a hooker? I mean maybe I dress a little scandalously but I wouldn't go as far as to call myself a prostitute."

"I-I mean, kinda but—" Sara stumbled, her hand fisted over her heart as she searched for something to say.

"I'm not a hooker, but I'll tell you I'm more talented than any you'll ever encounter," The woman purred, closing the distance between them. Sara stumbled back, straight against the counter of the cashier.

"I-I don't even know you're name! You're a complete stranger!"

"Mila," she said, pulling her lollipop between her lips with a pop, and pressing her lips against Sara's. Her lips were warm and tasted like lemonade, contrary to their color. "Now will you come with me?"

Sara stuttered a few seconds, not sure exactly how the fuck she should respond as dazed as she was, when there was a small cough behind them. "Mila, do you want your Marcy Playground record you ordered or not?" The bored voice grumbled, and the sound of a magazine page flipping made Sara turn completely bright pink. Mila's eyes never moved from Sara's face and her hungry and victorious smirk never changed. Her fingers danced around between Sara's thighs, testing her boundaries then and there without slipping them under her skirt. She popped the lollipop into her mouth again, and sucked on it as if contemplating.

"You're killing the mood, Lee-Lee," Mila said, but she pulled out some bills out of her back pocket with her other hand and tossed them on the counter.

"Call me Seung-Gil or do not address me at all, Mila."

"Yeah, yeah, Lee-Lee, throw in a pack of Big Red gum too will ya?"

"Sure, if you stop picking up people in my store," There was the sound of another page flipping. "It's a bit annoying and hurts my profit because you fuck them before they buy anything."

"Sure, sure, anything you say, Lee-Lee." She grabbed a plastic bag from the counter with one hand, and with her other evil little hand, she grabbed Sara's wrist and dragged her away. "Keep the change!"

She pushed open the door, the bell ringing loudly as Seung-Gil called, "I really fucking hate you!" after them.

Sara ran after the girl, her long legs carrying them down the street, weaving through the crowd as she laughed loudly like a crazy person. Sara cried out in disbelief, "I didn't even say I'd go with you!"

"You didn't say no either!"

Exasperated, Sara didn't resist until they reached the apartment complex where Mila apparently lived. She looked up at the dull, imposing building. "You're not gonna like, sell me into human trafficking are you?"

Mila laughed again. "No, no, not until I try the product out first," Mila winked. "Besides, that would be a very French thing for me to do."

Sara's brows drew together as she contemplated going upstairs with this girl. Looking back and forth between the two, she finally chose. "Aww, hell, Michele is gonna kick my ass."

Mila grinned, pulling her lollipop from her mouth and tossed it to the side. Dragging her up the stairs of destiny (enter ironic giggling of Luca-chan), and Sara had an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach that this little encounter would be a lot more than just some random thing.

!!!

The apartment was one room, but not necessarily small. A living space and kitchen were adjacent, with a bar and high chairs separating the two. She had an all glass table over a furry blue rug and a sunflower covered couch pressed against the large windows at the farthest wall. To the left past it was a four-step staircase and raised floor, where a giant mattress laid on the floor, unmade and messy. Farther back into the little cubbyhole was a giant record player with albums stacked up next to it and what looked like a closet as well.

Mila rubbed the back of her neck, smiling sheepishly. "It's a bit of a mess."

"Well, that's okay, mines way worse." Sara smiled warmly.

Mila went up the stairs and into the closet, and when she returned her shrug was off and she had turned on the album of Marcy Playground. Sara shifted her weight uncomfortably, unsure of how to act. She had only ever hooked up with strangers drunk, and only ever boys at that.

Mila sauntered to the couch, and threw herself against it. Her eyes were heavy lidded and devious as she leaned back, spreading her legs and throwing her arms up over the side. Her rubber white bando and rubber blue bell bottomed jeans glinted in the waning light. She looked like a guy waiting on a lap dance.

Maybe that was what she wanted?

Sara blushed for thinking like that, and blushed again after realizing she was there to have sex with this other person, this other woman.*

"Dance for me," Mila's sultry voice sliced through the air, and Sara jolted back to life.

"Why?" Sara asked.

"You look like a dancer: smooth, sculpted legs, grace, and sex appeal.

Sara nodded meekly, and started to move awkwardly to the music.

Mila watched carefully, a brow slightly raised as she moved to the rhythm. After a bit, she finally found the beat, charmingly swaying her hips as she spun slowly. Her lips turned up into a small smile, sex and want oozing from her. She ran her hands down her body as she spun around, facing away from Mila as she grinded against the air and dropped slowly to the ground. She turned, pressing one fish-netted knee against the carpet, before crawling silently to Mila, whose eyes were wide.

Sara straddled Mila's lap and placed Mila's hands on her hips, like she had seen in a movie once, and grinded herself against Mila.

"Now where did all this come from?" Mila asked, captivated by Sara's features.

Suddenly Sara's confidence drained away and was replaced with utter embarrassment. "I don't know, I, uhm, I'm sorry." She pushed back, but Mila held her firmly in place.

"No, it's pretty damn hot."

"It is?"

"Hell yes, it is." Mila giggled, and the grabbed a nice solid handful of Sara's ass. She stood, and easily carried her up the stairs and threw her back on the bed. She removed her heels, and unbuttoned her pants, sliding them off to reveal yellow lingerie. She pulled her bando up over her head, exposing her rosy pink nipples to the cold air.

She walked to the edge of the bed, where Sara stared unashamedly. Mila grabbed her feet, and pulled off her black booties, and set them down.

A thought occurred to Sara. "Why me?"

Mila tucked her hands under her knees and pulled her forward to straddle her as she fell to her knees on the bed. "What do you mean, why you?" She slipped her fingers into the waist band of the black skirt she wore, and pulled it down and off.

Sara just lay back and watched her remove her clothes. "There was another pretty girl in there, and a guy. You could've hit on them before they left. Why me?"

Mila paused at unlacing her yellow corset top. "Hmm," She bit her lip, and thought for a moment. "Honestly, you caught my eye at first mostly because you wore yellow."

"That's very you, I can tell you love baby blue and yellow." Sara smiled, reaching up her thumb and brushing it over the bobby pins holding back her hair.

"Yep, that's my aesthetic, honestly. Also white and dark red lipstick, but still." She smiled, finishing and pulling the corset off Sara.

Mila leaned forward, pressing her lips against Sara's. The softness of her lips surprised Sara again, and the taste of lemonade accompanied by a cinnamon flavor and her tongue as it slipped out to brush against her lips. Tentatively, Sara responded, parting her lips and allowing their tongues to meet as her hands slowly reached up to hold onto Mila's waist. As one hand slid down to tweak her nipple, the other tightened around a handful of Sara's hair. Pulling back, Mila's lips trailed down Sara's exposed neck, catching up with her other hand. Her lips wrapped around a nipple as she sucked gently, swirling her tongue, and then releasing it. She glanced up through her lashes to catch Sara's starving eyes and parted lips.

Sara's head was spinning as Mila attacked her nipples, nibbling and pulling and sucking until Sara cried out quietly. Mila's assault then travelled further south, her hot mouth leaving trailing spit and burning arousal in its wake.

"F-Fuck me," Sara gasped, throwing her head back.

"Trust me, I fully intend on tasting you and the fruits of your youth," Mila teased, and Sara laugh got caught in her throat as Mila's mouth found her rips. Her skin had always been especially sensitive, and ticklish as well, and she had never felt so explored by a lover's lips, never felt so turned out without being fueled by intoxication and calloused fingers. This love was more intimate, a strange breed of intensity.

Different from the rushed, punishing love of a man.

Mila's fingers caressed her hips, fingering at the hems of her panties, waiting for some form of consent. Sara nodded, meeting Mila's eyes.

"I wanna sit on your face." Sara blurted. Her cheeks became red, her violate eyes batted in confusion at the unpermitted words that came from her lips. Her fingers rose to her mouth, and she touched her bottom lip tentatively, as if to confirm she said it.

It had been her voice after all.

"How bold of you," Mila giggled a bit, before shrugging. "I would love to be suffocated by your thighs."

Sara's cheeks flamed as she nodded once. They moved into position, slowly and awkwardly at first, but once Sara's knees were on either side of Mila's head, she hesitated before lowering her hips and letting her lips work.

Mila was very talented. Her magical tongue rolled against the impatient Sara. Mila held her hips steady as Sara bucked and twitched, gasping for air. Catching every sound and movement, Mila observed soundlessly, her own pleasure being in watching the astounding reactions she plucked from the girl above her.

"Oh my god, it feels so good," Sara mewled, pressing her fingers on her tongue as she shuddered. She closed her lips around her finger and sucked on it, her other hand pressed on the bed clutching the sheets. She pulled her finger from her mouth, a line of drool followed it.

"Fuck me with your tongue, Mila, make me come." She begged, putting her weight onto her hands as she grinded herself into Mila's mouth. Sara wasn't sure where exactly this was coming from, but she couldn't care less and most likely wouldn't feel embarrassed until after they finished.

The burning pleasure in her body slowly spread. At first, it pulsated within her groin alone. Now, it vibrated through her legs and hands as she cried out over and over again. She knew it was almost over when there was a new, surprising burst of pleasure as Mila began to slide her fingers in and out of Sara.

"Shit, I think I'm about to—..." A string of inaudible curses left Sara's lips as there was a powerful release of energy that vibrated her entirety, and she collapsed to the side.

Mila rolled onto her stomach, the juices on her face glistening as she licked her lips and dragged Sara into her arms. They laid quietly, and Mila patiently waited for the aftershock to subside before she spoke. "Soooo~..." She said expectantly, nuzzling into Sara's hair.

Sara turned her head as if trying to face her. "So?" She questioned.

"How was it?"

Sara scoffed. "You know, if I could package and sell that I would."

"Well, you can't spell 'disappointment' without 'men.'"