“Look. We can either sit here, and you can help me untangle my complicated non-relationship, or we can spend some time getting to know one another. I know which one I’d prefer.”
“You’re direct,” I said.
“Look, I’m not gonna say anything trite like ‘we only have so many chances to live life,’” he said. “That’s a bunch of crap. If anything, life is filled with endless, boring stretches of opportunity for important little shitty conversations between people. But how many do you have to have in one lifetime? Don’t we all really just know what we want, and the whole of this—” and here he waved a hand at the club around them. “—isn’t this just so much window dressing and beating around the bush?”
“Then tell me what you’re after,” I said.
And then his lips were at my ear, and his voice hissed his desire to me, and I shuddered at the feeling of his hot breath in my ear. My consciousness seemed to fall away; all my inhibitions went flying out the window. I felt a little buzz unwind and bloom itself in my mind, again, and surrendered to it… letting it swallow me, consume me, spread through my veins, and tingle through my throbbing heart and down, further below...
“I want to crack you open like a vintage wine,” he said. “Sample you, taste you, let you linger on my tongue. Lick the drops of you from my wet fingers. I can guarantee you no man you’ve been with will ever appreciate you the way I’ll appreciate you this evening. That’s what I want. Now, do you want to knock back your shots and get out of here, or do you want to sit and bullshit all evening at this messy, noisy bar?”
I looked at him steadily. Any instincts for self-preservation had abandoned ship and decided to save themselves. It would be so easy to say yes, I thought, there’s no gate here in your throat like usual… Just open your mouth and say it…
I fumbled one-handed with the shot glasses and shakily knocked both back. Breathed out. Breathed in. Said ‘hooooo’ to myself.
“Two seconds,” I said. “Literally will be right back.”
He grinned. I waved, holding up a finger at him as if to physically compel him to stay, and then slid back into the dancing throngs. Tamara and her friends were over in a sitting group. Someone had ordered bottle service.
“You look flustered,” Tamara called out to me.
I slid up near where she was leaning against a chair.
“Talk some sense into me. Guy wants to bone. It’s been a while. I can’t think of any reasons to say no.”
“Because we’re supposed to be having fun?”
“An orgasm sounds fun to me.”
“Jesus, Stace. We’ve been here for five minutes.”
“Look, I know. I just. This guy’s special. Something’s telling me to go for it.”
“Yeah, your body’s natural tendency to be stupid and pregnant. Is that him?”
I turned to where she was pointing. Eddie was looking at me from the edge of the crowd, eyebrows quirked. He held up a drink and turned away.
“Yes.”
“The man you just saw fighting with his girlfriend outside.”
“Look, I know. I know. You don’t have to even tell me. I know. I deserve this, though, Tamara. Just one. One dumb bitch juice moment. You remember San Fran.”
Tamara closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“One time,” she said. “One time and I hear about it years later. Fine. Go. Get the ho out of your system. You better call me every half hour, every hour.”
“I’ll text you.”
“You text me and I’m calling the police. You will call me, your worried friend, and you will update me on where you are, and when you are done, I will make an excuse for you to leave. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, mother,” I said.
“Great. Go, ho. Be free.”
I disappeared back the way Eddie was waiting.
* * *
