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Sofia Pelligrini


4 min
Rated:
Moderate

Love & Toke


The Seductive Side Of Cannabis

When you let her out for the night

by Sofia Pelligrini

Then Garance leaves the room. She comes back with a small package and the type of dangerous smile you put on when you’re about to do something bad.

The Seductive Side Of Cannabis | When you let her out for the night

“To me, you are fucking gorgeous,” she whispers. “I wish I were more like you.”

I’m standing outside a club in Ireland, 600 miles from home. Tonight has been a night of firsts. My heels feel a little wobbly on these cobblestones. My heart is beating out of my chest.


I’m not the crazy one, the one who does badass stuff. When people share exciting stories, I listen and smile shyly, wondering why these kinds of things never happen to me.

And yet tonight, I have the feeling things might change.

It started an hour ago. I’m doing an internship in Ireland, far away from my family and my home in Belgium. I am sharing a house with three French girls who always talk very loudly and laugh like nobody’s listening. And to be honest, I thought they didn’t like me very much.

But tonight, they asked me if I wanted to party with them. ‘Girls Night’ they said, with their weird accents. So here I am, in the kitchen, drinking Eristoff Vodka with apple juice. It’s funny how things go. I have to say, these girls are starting to make me feel a different person. A wild one.

There’s this one girl, Garance. She’s the head of the pack and always tells funny stories with a laugh that makes you want to never stop being around her. Like the sun.

While we’re drinking they start teaching me French words.

Va te faire foutre salope!

It means something like “Screw you, bitch.” But because it’s French it sounds almost pretty.

Then Garance leaves the room. She comes back with a small package and the type of dangerous smile you put on when you’re about to do something bad.

“I have a little something for you, Sofia,” she says.

It’s a little plastic pack. With some kind of dry green ball in it.

“Smell it,” she commands.

It smells like nothing I know, but it smells good, like moss on a sunny day.

“Do you know what it is?” she asks.

I’m no fool. I know it’s weed. So I say, “Yes, it’s drugs. I don’t do drugs.”

She smiles and explains that it’s okay because her boyfriend grows it himself, so it’s not really a drug.

“It’s called Renaissance. It has pretty purple flowers, and really there’s nothing to worry about. Plus, I’m here to guide you.”

Then she rolls us a joint. One of the other girls make a joke about a rabbit hole, deep water, and never-ending stories. But I’ve made up my mind; I’m going to try Renaissance tonight. I’m not a puppy, I want to howl like a wolf. Tonight, I am a part of this pack.

At first try, it feels like I’m dying a little bit. I let go of the voice who whispers how stupid and irresponsible I am. New me is on her way. It makes me giggle. The girls giggle back.

I feel like my mind is splitting into pieces. The voice of reason can shove off. Tonight I’m a wild animal.

The four of us are smoking and talking. It’s crazy because even though we’re different, we understand each other.

Virginie says she once had sex in Apolline’s bed, the one in the next room. Apolline feigns shock, since she’s almost never home. She herself is having an affair with her internship coordinator, and says it’s so exciting when he gives her oral in the classroom after they finish their work. When she lays on the table after French class, and he softly groans between her legs.

I can’t help but picture these girls having sex. It’s weird how it makes me feel. Maybe it’s the weed. But I only have this thought: I want to be a part of this.

Garance listens more than she talks. She’s not embarrassed. She’s just glowing like a queen who’s happy to see her people being happy.

Then she asks, “What about you, Sofia? What’s the best sex you’ve ever had?”

I freeze. Nothing good comes to my mind. So I decide to avoid the question and escape to the bathroom.

I don’t know what’s happening to me. But all their amazing stories, and the way they contrast with my life’s lack of excitement, makes me cry. I come back to the kitchen, eyes red. I say it’s just the smoke.

Then, they decide to hit the city. I don’t really want to go. I’m sad and upset. But Garance puts her arm around my shoulders and promises she won’t leave me alone.

We take a cab to the city center where there is music, happy drunk people, three French girls happy to be alive. And there is me.

We go to a club and dance. The girls move their bodies like snakes and it’s so captivating. But my mouth is dry and my mind is spiraling to a dark place; I am unable to enjoy it. I tell them I need some fresh air, and run outside. I stay there, feeling lame and alone.

Then, out of the blue, Garance appears beside me. She looks really worried and asks if I’m okay.

And suddenly it hits me: I am not okay. I am a boring human being, with the stupidest life ever.

Garance doesn’t try to dry my tears. She listens. Listens to all the sorrow that pours from my mouth. All these feelings buried inside me that I didn’t even know about.

When I’m finally out of tears, I realize Garance has put her head on my shoulder. Her arms wrap around me. And I say nothing.

“To me, you are fucking gorgeous,” she whispers. “I wish I were more like you.”

Her head on my shoulder get heavier as she leans closer.

I can feel my heart beating really fast.

And suddenly, I feel electricity all over my body. Garance is kissing my neck, licking softly.

“I’m chasing your pain away,” she says.

And for the first time tonight I do something bold. I groan softly. Me, the bashful girl, expressing pleasure. Garance keeps going. And suddenly her mouth climbs up to mine. And we start kissing. She tastes like vodka and apple juice, and menthol chewing gum, too.

We kiss. I kiss her like she’s my last link to this world. Like she’s my door to who I want to be.

Her hands softly touch my breasts. And I’ve never felt anything like it.

We stay there for an hour or so.

Then, just like that, the moment’s gone. She smiles. I smile back at her. And I thank her. I take a cab home and fall asleep almost immediately.

Garance and I never tell the others about that night. It’s our secret. It’s my anchor whenever I feel weak and stupid. To this day, I haven’t really figured out what it meant. I just know I’m not labeling myself anymore. And I know that one night in Ireland the prettiest girl I’ve ever met kissed me like no one had kissed me before.

Rated X For Sex


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