* * *
Ben sits next to me, more relaxed than I expected him to be. He’s dressed like everyone else, slacks and a shirt, only his is short sleeved and I keep looking at his forearms. His hands are huge, with long, ringless fingers, and I can’t stop remembering what it was like when he fingered me for the first time and then made me come in the maze.
These aren’t thoughts I should be having while I’m sitting at the table with my brother, best friend and an American statesman. I push my thighs closer together, aware of how the skirt of the dress has hitched up and more aware of the liquid heat between my legs.
Ben reaches down and rubs his thigh as the entrée is served, nodding politely at Letty, who’s talking about her last vacation in Cape Cod. I don’t think Ben gives a flying fuck about Cape Cod.
“Have you been to Cape Cod, Blair?” Letty asks, only nibbling at the entrée.
“Twice. It was very nice.” A non-descript description for a place I could barely remember. I’d been young, barely school-age, and it had been a family holiday. Lennox had broken his arm while we were there the second time. That was the standout.
“You should definitely revisit.” Her attention’s called away by her sister and Ben inhales deeply.
“Have you ever been to Cape Cod?” I murmur, my hand slipping under the table to his knee. I brush the material, lightly, just enough pressure so he knows it isn’t an accident.
“Not really. I summered in Kabul.”
I squeeze his knee. He doesn’t flinch.
“One day you’ll have to tell me about it.”
He’s silent. Frozen.
“Do you want to know a secret?”
He discreetly moves my hand away from him, softly putting it back on my leg. I capture his hands before he can move, making sure that no one’s attention’s on us. It isn’t. The sisters are talking between themselves and my brother is deep in conversation with Voigt.
“If you want to tell it me.” He keeps his words low, looking at me, directing them just to me so they can’t escape into the ears of others.
“I’m not wearing any underwear.” The words are casual. Matter of fact. As if I was talking about the weather or the melon on our plates. I move my hand away from his and he leaves it on my leg, his long fingers grazing my skin and I part my legs, just enough so that he knows.
“Tell me, Blair, have you spent much time in the States?” Voigt’s eyes land on me just as Ben’s hand travels a little further.
I know it will be impossible to tell what he’s doing. The way we’re sitting and the size of the table mean that we have privacy, as long as my poker face is fixed. If Ben dares to continue.
“A little. I’ve travelled to various cities and spent some time in New York.”
“Which cities have you been to?” His smile is genuine, as if he wants to actually know as opposed to just making small talk.
“New Orleans, Dallas, Boise, San Fran, Vegas on one occasion. That was interesting.” In ways he wouldn’t know.
“Which was your favourite?”
Ben’s fingers slide further up my thigh. I part my legs, feeling the cool air where it was previously on fire. It’s still on fire.
“New Orleans probably. I was there once during Mardi Gras and the atmosphere was amazing.”
“Did you get any beads?” Letty giggles and I wonder if she’s picturing me exposing my breasts.
I did get beads. I wore a mask, as did Micky, and we walked down Bourbon to a hotel with a balcony and a room rented by the hour. I still have the beads. They’re set into a ceramic frame, the picture one of NOLA at night, during Mardi Gras and in it’s a young girl with dark hair, wearing a mask.
“Only what was gifted to me.” No need to say how they were gifted.
“Have you visited Chicago?” Voigt smiles and I know what’s coming. Chicago is where he has his main house.
“Twice. But only briefly.” He will know this already if he’s done his research. Chicago was one of the few times where I was caught on a date by the paparazzi, a boyfriend who could’ve been serious if I’d fallen in love with him.
“Oh, I remember!” Letty claps her hands together. “You were dating Blake Harper.”
