right?”
She nodded.
“It’s an adventure I want to have
with
you.”
“I know,” she said.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she said. And it was true.
He held her hand, and they made their way back to the table.
Two women and a guy were standing by the side of the booth and chatting up Bette. Bette introduced them as Camille, Valerie, and Max.
“Max is an amazing costume designer,” she said. “He is a genius with zippers.”
Mallory’s mind was racing too fast for her to process new people. She let Alec make the polite conversation, poured herself another glass of champagne, and she watched the show. A woman was taking off her Santa costume to the the Mel Tormé song, “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire.” She wasn’t wearing pasties, and she was soon out of her G-string. She sat on a chair, spread her legs, and proceeded to remove what looked like a chestnut from her vagina. Mallory stifled a laugh and turned to see Alec’s reaction, but he was not watching the stage.
He was kissing Bette.
Mallory didn’t want to look, but she couldn’t pull away—it was like watching a terrible accident at the side of the road. But before she could really get upset, Bette turned and fixed those cat blue eyes on her, and, with a smile, started kissing her. And not just the faint brush of lips like in the bathroom of the hotel, but a deep, real kiss. The first thing she thought was that it felt different—she was aware of how soft Bette’s skin and mouth felt. And she was surprised at how much she didn’t want Bette to stop. But Bette did stop, pulling back after a minute.
“I have to run,” she said. “Camille and Anton are taking me to a party. You guys stay—enjoy the rest of the show.”
Mallory nodded, gulped more champagne, and dared not look at Alec. She watched the finale of the chestnut lady—she was now juggling three of them, and Mallory didn’t even want to think about where the second and third nuts came from—and felt Alec slide next to her. He pulled her hair away from her face and whispered in her ear.
“Go the bathroom. Close yourself in a stall but don’t lock the door. Take all your clothes off. Text me when the coast is clear.”
She looked at him like he was crazy.
“Seriously—go,” he said.
And she did. And so maybe she was the one who was crazy. Or maybe she was just relieved it wasn’t going to be the three of them in the bathroom. Because even though she’d said it would be okay, she knew the way she had felt when she saw him kissing Bette; the thought of having to see him do anything more than that made her stomach knot.
A woman was reapplying lipstick in the bathroom. Mallory pretended to touch up her own makeup, and found that her hands were shaking. She closed herself in a stall, locked the door, and took off her stockings, her skirt, and her blouse. She hung them all on the single hook the best that she could manage, and then put her shoes back on. She hoped standing barefoot for just a minute on the floor wasn’t long enough for her to catch anything. Her mother had always warned her of the dangers lurking on unclean floors.
She closed the toilet lid and sat on it, waiting for the woman to leave. She heard crinkling as the woman sorted through something—candy? condoms?—and then finally the click of the door as she exited. Mallory pulled out her BlackBerry and texted Alec.
Coast is clear. I’m in the last stall.
She unlocked the door, wearing only her bra and underwear. The whole situation made her uneasy—what if someone came in before Alec got there? And what did he think they could get away with doing in that small space, with anyone able to walk in and hear them or worse, notice the two sets of legs under the door!
And yet, she felt incredibly turned on. She pressed her hand between her legs, testing the waters. She was wet already.
Someone came into the room, and she tensed, holding the stall door closed.
“It’s me,” he said, knocking
She nodded.
“It’s an adventure I want to have
with
you.”
“I know,” she said.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she said. And it was true.
He held her hand, and they made their way back to the table.
Two women and a guy were standing by the side of the booth and chatting up Bette. Bette introduced them as Camille, Valerie, and Max.
“Max is an amazing costume designer,” she said. “He is a genius with zippers.”
Mallory’s mind was racing too fast for her to process new people. She let Alec make the polite conversation, poured herself another glass of champagne, and she watched the show. A woman was taking off her Santa costume to the the Mel Tormé song, “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire.” She wasn’t wearing pasties, and she was soon out of her G-string. She sat on a chair, spread her legs, and proceeded to remove what looked like a chestnut from her vagina. Mallory stifled a laugh and turned to see Alec’s reaction, but he was not watching the stage.
He was kissing Bette.
Mallory didn’t want to look, but she couldn’t pull away—it was like watching a terrible accident at the side of the road. But before she could really get upset, Bette turned and fixed those cat blue eyes on her, and, with a smile, started kissing her. And not just the faint brush of lips like in the bathroom of the hotel, but a deep, real kiss. The first thing she thought was that it felt different—she was aware of how soft Bette’s skin and mouth felt. And she was surprised at how much she didn’t want Bette to stop. But Bette did stop, pulling back after a minute.
“I have to run,” she said. “Camille and Anton are taking me to a party. You guys stay—enjoy the rest of the show.”
Mallory nodded, gulped more champagne, and dared not look at Alec. She watched the finale of the chestnut lady—she was now juggling three of them, and Mallory didn’t even want to think about where the second and third nuts came from—and felt Alec slide next to her. He pulled her hair away from her face and whispered in her ear.
“Go the bathroom. Close yourself in a stall but don’t lock the door. Take all your clothes off. Text me when the coast is clear.”
She looked at him like he was crazy.
“Seriously—go,” he said.
And she did. And so maybe she was the one who was crazy. Or maybe she was just relieved it wasn’t going to be the three of them in the bathroom. Because even though she’d said it would be okay, she knew the way she had felt when she saw him kissing Bette; the thought of having to see him do anything more than that made her stomach knot.
A woman was reapplying lipstick in the bathroom. Mallory pretended to touch up her own makeup, and found that her hands were shaking. She closed herself in a stall, locked the door, and took off her stockings, her skirt, and her blouse. She hung them all on the single hook the best that she could manage, and then put her shoes back on. She hoped standing barefoot for just a minute on the floor wasn’t long enough for her to catch anything. Her mother had always warned her of the dangers lurking on unclean floors.
She closed the toilet lid and sat on it, waiting for the woman to leave. She heard crinkling as the woman sorted through something—candy? condoms?—and then finally the click of the door as she exited. Mallory pulled out her BlackBerry and texted Alec.
Coast is clear. I’m in the last stall.
She unlocked the door, wearing only her bra and underwear. The whole situation made her uneasy—what if someone came in before Alec got there? And what did he think they could get away with doing in that small space, with anyone able to walk in and hear them or worse, notice the two sets of legs under the door!
And yet, she felt incredibly turned on. She pressed her hand between her legs, testing the waters. She was wet already.
Someone came into the room, and she tensed, holding the stall door closed.
“It’s me,” he said, knocking
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