“I am.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
And so we danced. And we drank. And we did not leave until close to three. Rory and Simon with two girls apiece. And I was not sure if they were wing women or what, but they certainly seemed committed. There were some high-level machinations as we slipped out through the back entrance to pile into our ride, and the girls left separately and took a cab to the hotel, where Trevormet them in the lobby, and it all felt so sordid and rehearsed, I wondered who they thought they were fooling.
“I’m sorry I’m keeping you from having two girls tonight.”
Hayes laughed. “Is that what you’re doing?”
We were back in our suite, on the sixteenth floor. Hayes was seated on the Knoll-style leather sofa, and I was standing above him, my hands on either side of his shoulders, my knee between his legs.
“You should be out there having fun.”
“Do you think I’m not having fun?”
“You’re twenty-one.”
“I know how old I am.” His hands were moving over the skirt of my dress, slipping beneath the hem, traveling up the backs of my thighs. He was drunk. We both were.
I kissed him. He tasted of rum and lime and sugar and happiness. And I wanted to lock it away and remember it forever.
His hands moved to my shoulders, and with little effort he peeled off my spaghetti straps and unhooked the back of my dress, freeing my breasts.
“What would I do with four boobs anyway if I only have one mouth?”
I laughed. His tongue was already at my nipple. “I think you’d figure something out.”
“Probably. But it wouldn’t be as fun without you.”
I was quiet then, listening to my own breath, smelling his hair. He had one hand on my breast and the other had returned to beneath my skirt, ascending, expertly tugging off my thong.
His eyes met mine. “See, right now I would just be learning their names and trying to keep them straight. I already know your name. We can skip all the formalities.”
I smiled, untangling myself from him, kneeling down and undoing his belt. He watched me, his eyes glazed, a half smileplaying over his lips. I unfastened his pants and undid the zipper, and his penis was so unfathomably hard it seemed to me even larger than it was when we’d had sex earlier. And it was large then. There was something so appealing about the head cresting out of his underwear. Like a gift.
“Fuck, I love you,” I said, reaching into his pants.
“And see, that would be weird coming from the two girls I did not know,” he snickered.
“I love this dick.”
“I know you do.”
“I’m going to miss this dick.”
“It’s not going anywhere.”
“It’s going to Australia when I go to New York.”
“But then we’ll wait for you in Japan. I promise. Are you crying? Fuck, don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying,” I said. But I was.
“You’re not allowed to cry with my dick in your mouth… Solène.” His hand was in my hair. “That’s not cool. That’s really going to kill it for me.”
I laughed, wiping my eyes. “I’m sorry. Okay. Let’s do this.”
