Part I
BY: Cin
SUMMARY: What would have happened if Micky had a secret admirer in “99 LB. Weakling”?
She was only aware of one thing.
<If that blond bimbo opens her mouth one more time, I’ll strangle her with my bare hands!> she murderously thought, casting a nasty glare at the bored-looking girl who sat on Micky’s other side.
Cady honestly didn’t understand Micky’s attraction to the other girl at all; she’d puzzled over it for weeks now but was no closer to an answer than she’d been when she started. Normally he dated girls who were not only pretty but who liked to have a good time, who had a well-developed sense of humor, and who could carry on a decent conversation.
Brenda had none of the above qualities.
When Micky had suggested swimming, she turned him down, not just because she didn’t want to get her hair wet but also because she was afraid the salt water would ruin her new bikini. Davy started a rousing game of volleyball with some other friends of theirs, but Brenda didn’t want to participate because she hated getting sweaty, a fact she stated with a pointed look at Cady, who’d been the first to jump up and volunteer to play. And when Brenda wasn’t talking about fashion and makeup, she was staring at the muscled hunk showing off for a small group of swoony-looking girls gathered at the other end of the beach, while all the time Micky was gazing at her with such adoration that it made Cady’s heart ache with envy.
<It’s not fair!> she petulantly thought, throwing herself down on her blanket stomach-first, and rested her chin on her forearms, trying to sneak glances at Micky out of the corner of her eye without him noticing.
He wore red swim trunks, still damp from his most recent—albeit brief—foray into the water, and droplets still clung to his lean, tanned chest and arms, his hair softly curling against his forehead and neck as it slowly dried in the light summer breeze. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and his giggles wafted through the air as he finished the punch line to the joke he’d been telling Brenda, but the girl didn’t so much as crack a smile.
Cady thrust her hot face into her arms, growing more miserable by the minute. <Stop it!> she abruptly ordered herself. <Why torture yourself? You and Micky…it’s never gonna happen…not as long as he’s into Brenda…>
Cady had known Micky ever since she’d moved to Malibu with her family when she was sixteen—on her first day of school she had been assigned a student guide to take her around and show her the ropes, and that guide had been Micky’s sister Coco. Not only had the two girls become fast friends, but so had Micky and Cady.
Lately she’d realized that her feelings for Micky had somehow changed without her even noticing—slowly mutating from friendship into romantic attraction—but before she could work up the courage to tell him what she’d discovered, he’d met Brenda while surfing one afternoon and had been head over heels for the blonde ever since.
While she was attractive in her own right, Cady knew that she was no match for Brenda—Brenda was petite and curvy; Cady was tall and brunette, with lanky, coltish legs, a small bust, and slim hips. Around Brenda Cady felt like an awkward tomboy, uncomfortable in her own skin, and for a girl who’d always thought she knew exactly who she was, it was an unsettling sensation.
“Well, I’m going to go talk to some friends,” Brenda said, gathering up her beach things and standing up.
“See you later,” Micky said, eagerly jumping up for a kiss, but by the time he got to his feet, Brenda was already sauntering down the beach towards the muscleman, leaving a sea of dropped male jaws in her wake.
Micky, however, seemed to be oblivious to Brenda’s true reason for leaving. He plopped back down on his blanket and turned smiling brown eyes to Cady. “Isn’t she great, Cady?”
Cady rolled her eyes, but he didn’t notice. “Yeah, great.”
“You know, I’ve had lots of girlfriends before, but I think this time I’m really in love.”
Cady nearly choked. “You what?”
Micky nodded enthusiastically. “I think Brenda’s the one.”
Cady peered over his shoulder, only to spot the muscleman and Brenda strolling further down the beach together, hand-in-hand. <What am I going to do?> she desperately thought, but her mouth was moving before she even finished her mental question.
“Are you out of your mind?” she asked Micky, who jolted back as if she’d slapped him. “That is the most annoying girl I’ve ever met in my life! She’s an empty shell, Micky—there’s nothing to her besides her looks! She’s completely self-centered; she doesn’t want to do anything that remotely resembles fun because she might mess up her clothes or her hair or her makeup; she can’t carry on any sort of intelligent conversation; and she treats you like her personal slave!”
Micky stared at her, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly like a fish’s, until he finally found his voice. “You’re just jealous!” he accused, pointing at her.
“I’m WHAT?” she cried, her eyes widening in horror. Had he somehow guessed her
secret?
“Jealous because I’ve been spending all my time with Brenda instead of you,” he continued.
“All your time following her around like a little lapdog, more like,” Cady shot back. “At least you and I can debate—what do you talk about with her, which color lipstick you prefer to suck off her lips?”
Micky’s eyes turned dark and stormy with anger, and if Cady hadn’t been so angry herself, she would have shivered at the passion in their depths. “At least I can GET a date—how long has it been since YOU’VE had one, Cady?”
She felt as if he’d punched her in the stomach, and for a moment she couldn’t respond as hot tears filled her eyes. <God, don’t let me cry in front of him,> she begged, trying to gather up the shreds of her self-control. She had never fought with Micky before, and now with the knowledge of her new feelings for him, she felt doubly as hurt, but she knew that she couldn’t apologize for being truthful with him. They had pledged honesty to each other in the beginning seeds of their friendship, and she couldn’t go back on that vow, even if it meant possibly losing Micky forever.
Gracefully she rose to her feet and snatched her blanket from the sand. “Suit yourself, Micky. But when Brenda breaks your heart, don’t come running to cry on my shoulder.”
She turned around and stalked towards the street, her feet kicking up small clouds of sand. All the while she forced herself to take each step forward and not look back.
“Cady? Cady, wait up!” It was not the voice she’d hoped to hear, though; instead it was that of Peter, coming from behind her.
She didn’t stop or even slow down, and Peter finally caught up with her, grabbing her arm. “What happened? Did you and Micky have a fight or something?”
Cady fixed icy green eyes on him. “I told him the truth about Brenda. He wasn’t ready to hear it.”
“But Cady, whatever he said—“
“Peter, please. I don’t want to talk about Micky anymore—as a matter of fact, I don’t care if I ever see him again.”
With that said, she jerked her arm free from Peter’s grasp and continued her brisk pace, heading in the direction of her apartment building, which was one block over from the Monkees’ beach house.
Peter stood there for a moment, wringing his hands worriedly, before running back to Micky. “Micky, what happened with you and Cady?”
Micky glared up at the bassist, hurt evident in his dark eyes. “She’s so jealous over me digging Brenda that she’s trying to break us up! Can you believe that?”
“No, man, Cady wouldn’t—“
“She made it sound like I’m not good enough for Brenda, that I’m just Brenda’s little lapdog! Well, I’ll show her!” With that Micky leaped to his feet and stormed back to the Pad, muttering the entire way.
Tears welled up in Peter’s eyes, and he stared forlornly at the seagulls swooping lower and lower over the ocean in search of fish. “I wish Mike were here…”
~*~
That night Cady lay in her bed, unable to sleep. All she could see in her mind was Micky’s angry face at the beach that afternoon, and his hurtful words rang in her ears over and over again until she finally clapped her hands to the sides of her head in a vain attempt to silence them.
It didn’t work.
Was he right? Was she really trying to break them up because she was jealous of Brenda?
Yes, she was jealous, she admitted to herself, but she wasn’t petty enough to split them up for her own purposes. As unhappy as she was at the reality of Micky having a girlfriend other than herself, she thought that she could probably live with that. What she couldn’t live with was the thought of Brenda breaking Micky’s heart and ruining that playful, childlike quality that she loved so about him. She knew without a doubt that it would happen—she remembered the cozy way Brenda had been strolling with the muscleman, whose name was Bulk, she’d discovered—and she didn’t want Micky to have to go through that sort of pain, despite the fact that he’d wounded her badly with his quick comeback that afternoon.
Cady usually spent her Friday and Saturday nights either studying at home in her apartment, at the Vincent Van-Go-Go or some such other club watching the Monkees perform, or out with a group of friends—but rarely did she go out with one particular guy. It wasn’t her fault, though, she thought; when she did date, she always compared the guy to Micky in her head, and each date fell short, every time. She’d tried everything she could think of to stop herself from falling into this destructive habit, but she couldn’t break it.
And she had to admit that she’d lied to Peter—she did care if she saw Micky again. She cared very much.
Even now, flashes of memory ran through her mind like a movie on a projection screen: the play of muscles in his tanned back as he leaped in the air to smack the volleyball; the way his forehead scrunched and his eyes closed when he sang; his strong but artistic hands gripping the sticks as he played his drums; his lean yet athletic body dripping wet, trunks clinging to him like a second skin as he emerged from the ocean…
Her blood was racing hot through her body, making her restless and wanting.
There was only one way she was ever going to get any sleep, and she cursed herself for being so weak.
Slowly she slid off her camisole and panties until she was naked beneath the thin sheet she slept beneath, the cool cotton stimulating against her bare skin, causing her nipples to rise in response. She closed her eyes, focusing on her mental images of Micky, sliding her hands beneath her small breasts and cupping their fullness, imagining that it was his hands caressing her, his thumbs rubbing her nipples until they ached from desire.
One hand left her breasts, moving down her stomach to the thatch of hair below; in her fantasy she was lying in Micky’s bed as he explored her body, a look of wonder on his face as he saw her naked body for the first time. He touched her as if he were afraid she would break, murmuring endearments to her, making her feel as if she were the most beautiful woman on earth. She could almost feel his soft, warm lips moving over her skin, his breath tickling her inner thighs as his tongue searched out her innermost secret, tasting her before he slid back up her body, positioning himself above her. She slid one, then two fingers inside herself, the heel of her palm rubbing against her clitoris, and her hips bucked upwards as she pretended that it was not her own fingers there but Micky thrusting into her, Micky’s weight pressing her into the mattress as he made love to her, made her his.
She felt the pleasure/tension coil build inside of her, and her breathing came faster and faster until finally orgasm wracked her body in spasms of ecstasy. She cried out Micky’s name repeatedly as white static exploded in her brain, and then she fell back against her pillow, hair damp with sweat, finally drifting off into satisfied sleep.
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