If mockery is a disease, fate is the culprit, and we continually deal with it as a choice. Oftentimes, other people cannot seem to understand that freedom comes with freely picking who to love and to fuck. Unlike pain and pleasure which are two varying aspects of life, matching men and women exclusively are totally limiting everyone’s fundamental right to choose regardless of societal standards.
Ann and Lea chose the path least taken, and their story continues when the strings of their desires escalate as they reminisce how oxytocin, endorphins, and all the other released non-hormonal feelings uncover their closeted libido for each other.
It’s a Monday, and almost everyone inside carries a caffeinated scent with their eyes firmly hopeful for the hearing’s result. “In 5 minutes, the Court will be in session, we’re just waiting for the Presiding Judge,” says the dark-haired white woman in the Court. Both sides; the defendant and the plaintiff are all now ready. The usual Court routine begins until the Judge calls the defendant’s counsel name, “Atty. Leary, does your client plead guilty?” The name and how it is pronounced sound familiar to the prosecutor in a wolf-cut hairstyle, wearing an all-white suit. Her pupils dilate as she turns her head to see the counsel’s face. Thinking perhaps the name is just similar to that one person she can’t forget, she turns her head away.
Approaching the witness stand for cross-examination, Atty. Leary asks “My client was unconscious and you dare to say the sexual act was with consent? On what grounds?” The voice, intonation, and Asian accent have become more familiar to the prosecutor who is still in denial that she knows the person. “Oh God, Lea?”, she murmurs to herself as she feels her genitals getting sweaty with the thought of their eyes interlocking again, after 6 years. “Oh no. What is wrong with my pussy, I can’t feel all horny and lose this case!” she silently tells herself as she feels the urgency to calm her sexual attraction just by hearing the name.
Gazing towards the direction of the prosecutor, Atty. Leary smiled while forming a smirk on the attractive dimples on her left cheek. It took a minute for the witness, the defendant, to respond.
“She is my girlfriend. I can do whatever I want. Her body is mine. We sleep together. And we do the deed every night. What is wrong with that? Do you need consent to fuck your lover?!” he exclaimed. The prosecutor gives a “calm yourself” look to the witness when Atty. Leary counter-argues, “So you are admitting there was no consent?” The prosecutor then called out the question, “Argumentative!” as she stands, trying to stop her trembling knees when Atty. Leary looked at her, smirking.
The smirk, poise, and the way she carries herself—everything about her is just the same 6 years ago, the prosecutor thought. Everything around them moves slowly as if all people are frozen and the way they both look at each other has become a one-sided attraction. Cold look for Atty. Leary and eyes that long for answers, for Prosecutor Anna. The interlocking of their eyes is cut when the Judge calls, “Prosecutor Annaliza, your turn for cross-examination.”