by G J Stevens
In the end the meal wasn’t the ordeal I thought it would be. She didn’t jump me as I arrived at the table. We ate and talked like we had at the club, the alcohol settling my nerves.
She flirted, of course, on more than one occasion, letting the silk of her gown slip from her shoulder, showing the hint of her chest, but she didn’t press herself against me and didn’t force me to the floor or lunge toward me with pouting lips.
She was playing the long game; slow and subtle and I was afraid it might be working.
Before long, the first three hours had flown by. Checking my watch, I kicked myself for not being more alert, the second bottle of champagne having more than loosened my tension. I told Celina I had to prepare for the party, but she held me back, changing the conversation again and again.
It wasn’t until there was an hour to go until the party that I realised why.
After collecting the dress from her room, excusing myself from getting dressed at her side, I found a long tear in the fabric which hadn’t been there the few days before. I should have been angry and should have drawn a conclusion. Instead I smiled, heading to her bedroom to find her sat at her dresser, the silk dressing gown discarded to the bed. A wide smile on her face, her brows pinched together as I presented the long tear.
Without words she turned. I followed, my gaze falling to the bed and a beautiful but tiny black dress laid out beside the pink version Celina had chosen for herself in front of me only days before.
We didn’t speak as I picked up the replacement and took it to my room, the alcohol showing me the funny side of how she’d engineered the situation; engineered me into an outfit that only just covered my ass and exaggerated my breasts.
Moments later, Celina stood at my door, a mirror image in all but the colour which had the same result on her. Her features raised in alarm and she pointed to my white bra straps pronounced either side of the dress’s thin slivers of fabric, telling me in no uncertain terms that I had to lose it.
Bending to her will and thankful we had no more time to be alone, we soon finished the rest of the bottle and headed down the gravel driveway, along the short curb, past the cars lining the road and up to the house next door.
Soft piano welcomed us as Alarica opened the door, her polite smile widening as she saw our near-matching dresses. Her eyes locked with mine for a moment, our thoughts in sync for that second.
At her back, a stooped woman came through the thin crowd of guests dressed in suits, all with drinks in their hands. She welcomed us in, calling for Celina by name and shaking my hand as Alarica introduced me before Celina could get there.
Two observations leapt to my attention; Lenara’s long, jet-black hair flowing to her shoulders, its lustre inconsistent with the deep lines creasing her face. The second were the burns and long-healed scars on her hands, the right of which much worse, pronounced with a stump where her pinkie should have been.
“You’ve met?” Celina said with surprise, seeming to be taking the words from Lenara’s mouth.
“Earlier in the week. We found each other at the supermarket,” Alarica said, her voice already building to a laugh. “She gave me such a fright when she followed me. I thought she was a private eye come to dig up my past.”
“Well, nice to meet you,” Lenara said in my direction, taking hold of Celina’s hand and drawing her off. “Why don’t you two get yourself something to drink while I show Celina to some people she won’t have seen in an age.”
With her words I turned and followed Alarica through the thin crowd of people, smiling at faces as they stared at the two of us, whilst wondering why they were looking so hard in my direction.
Alarica didn’t speak until we were through the kitchen and into the laundry room, the shelves stacked high with catering boxes and crates of plates and glasses.
“She chose the outfit for you,” she said, unable to hold back her giggles.
“How did you guess?” I replied.
“You look fucking hot, but like her younger, sexier sister.”
“At least you didn’t say her daughter,” I replied, both of us bursting into laughter.
Once we settled, Alarica produced two tall glasses from the side and opened a small fridge, the light shining brightly on two stacked rows of champagne bottles.
With the cork out and expertly captured in her hand, she spoke in a low voice. “Where’s the husband and the children?”
“He’s out of the country and the kids are at friends.”
“Convenient. What’s she got planned?”
“I’m sure you can guess,” I replied, burying my head in my free hand as I laughed.
“Are you going to?”
“No,” I replied, cutting her off.
“Why not? Get it over with and she’ll move on to someone else, I guess.”
“I’m not like that.”
“What, you wouldn’t with a woman?” she said, tilting her head to the side, her thin eyebrows raised.
“Would you?” I shot back.
“I’m the one asking the questions. Would you?”
I shook my head. “It’s where I work. I wouldn’t sleep with either of them.”
“Oh God, not the father,” she replied, shaking her head. “What if she wasn’t your boss?”
I didn’t reply, the best I could do after the earlier bottles.
“Hah. You would,” she said laughing.
“It depends how much I’d had to drink,” I said, looking into my glass to her continued amusement.
“Another?” she said with a wide beam, holding up an empty glass.
“Very funny. We should mingle,” I said and let her drag me back into the kitchen and out through the crowd as I tried to stop my topped-up bubbles from spilling.
We sat next to each other on golden-edged dining chairs in the corner of the long and wide room. With windows each end and crystal candelabra hung from the tall ceiling, the space seemed to have been designed exactly for this kind of event. The room bristled with conversation around three separate huddles.
“They know a lot of people,” I said quietly, whilst looking around at the dark wooden furniture surrounding the room.
“Most of them are from his work,” she said, her voice hushed. “They all live local too.”
“Can’t get away from the office. I know the feeling,” I said, raising a smile. “This place looks like you’ve lived in it for years. From what we’ve seen for the past couple of weeks, I thought they’d stripped it bare?”
“It was, so I’m told. Not that I saw it beforehand. Lenara doesn’t work and she’s a tidy freak, but better at issuing orders that doing anything about it,” she said, wiggling her fingers out in front as she spoke.
“Yeah? What’s with the hands?” I said, looking down as she stopped.
“She’s got some rare disorder. She can’t feel things very well. Boiled her hands a few times and got her little finger trapped in a door.”
“Ow,” I replied.
“No, the opposite. That’s the point,” she said and burst out with laughter.
“You get along though?” I said, and she answered after a pause.
“I guess,” she said with a big smile. “No, I’m kidding. It’s fine. We get along fine.” For the first time I saw a fake smile beaming in my direction. “I was kind of imposed on her though.”
“By the husband,” I said, turning to watch her expression.
“Yeah, of course. Who else?”
“Yeah, stupid thing to say,” I replied, wondering what I could have meant.
I turned back to the party, watching a group of square-jawed men, all about mid-thirties, each filling out their wide suits with thick chests and arms. I’d seen plenty of these types of guys before.
“Does your boss run a nightclub?” I laughed and Alarica laughed back.
“They look like bouncers. Yes. Big sports fans, I think. Probably all played in college,” she replied.
I turned to her, following her gaze back in
to the crowd and saw a tall guy who’d stopped all conversation as he walked in the room.
He was much older than most I’d seen so far at the party. Late forties, if not more senior. With jet-black hair on top of his head, the sides were white as a polar bear. A long grey moustache ran across his top lip and he reminded me of a handsome version of J. Jonah Jameson, the boss of Spiderman’s alter ego.
Like everyone in the room, I felt my mouth open. My breath paused as I waited for his next move.
“Who’s that?” I said in a near whisper.
There was a few seconds pause before she gave a breathy reply. “That’s Frank Bukia. My boss.”
I felt a sudden wave of jealousy. It was him she was sleeping with him and it was plain to see why.
6
I turned to Alarica, her gaze still fixed in his direction as the conversation built back to its former volume.
“How long has it been?” I whispered as she continued to stare, only turning back at the realisation of what I’d said.
“Since what? What do you mean?” she replied, her cheeks flushing red.
“How long have you been sleeping with him?” I replied, reflecting a version of the smile she’d used when questioning me in the laundry room.
“No one can know. No, we haven’t. No. Look, it was just once. Say nothing,” she replied, leaning toward me with an urgency mirrored in her expression.
“I won’t, don’t be silly. We’re friends now, right?”
“Friends,” she said, her voice settling down as her look twisted around the room.
“So what’s his day job then?” I said, watching her relax as I changed the subject. “Some big boss I’m guessing by the way they’re treating him.” Turning back, I watched everyone in the room continue to gravitate around Frank with a rolling chorus of laughter at his words.
“He’s a big-deal doctor,” she said, her gaze back in his direction.
“Was it recently?” I replied.
Alarica paused, the words hanging on her open lips. “Don’t talk about it, please,” she said, turning back to me. “At least not here.”
I nodded and let our silence sit for a moment longer.
“I didn’t think there was a hospital near?”
“He’s not that sort of doctor. Well, he used to be. He works for a corporation. A specialist,” she said, her face brightening as she continued to peer.
“You’ve got it bad. Like all these guys.”
Her laugh was back. “Everyone’s always fighting for his attention,” she said, as if unable to take her eyes from him.
“I can see.”
We sat silent for a moment longer, then as Alarica turned away we continued with idle chat, her shoulders relaxing as we each took turns to make observations pointed at each guest. A thick mono-brow that would better suit a dog. A badly fitting bra which made its owner’s tits hang to the floor.
With other unkind comments, we sat in continual fits of laughter for a long while. Despite our enjoyment, Alarica couldn’t help the occasional glance to Frank Bukia as he worked his way around the room.
I also kept an eye on Frank as he spoke with each guest at the party, even if just to give the shake of a hand or peck to a cheek.
I turned to Alarica as she halted in the middle of a cutting remark aimed at one of the wive’s orange-peel upper arms.
Her gaze went to the centre of the room and following her dreamy stare, there he was with two long strides, rising over us. Alarica jumped to her feet.
I stood, his height looming like a statue. His shoulders seemed to span wider than Alarica and I standing together. The top of his head seemed darker this close, the white sides much whiter. He tipped a warm nod in Alarica’s direction, turned and beamed his perfect whites in mine.
“Please introduce me to your friend,” he said with more enthusiasm than I’d expected. Although his head turned towards Alarica, he fixed his gaze on me.
“This is… this is…” Alarica stuttered.
“Catarina,” I added, turning to her. “Are you okay?”
“Fine, fine,” she quickly said, waving away my concern.
“Pleased to meet you,” Frank said. His slow, broad voice reverberated through my chest as I held my hand out. Our hands touched and we lingered, my gaze lost in his; his in mine.
We slid apart after what seemed like an age. “Frank,” he said, with his smile still wide. His eyebrows lowered as if we’d shared some unspoken question neither of us had been able to answer.
“Likewise,” I added, only just able to get the word out. I could feel Alarica’s gaze boring into my side. “Alarica tells me you’re a doctor?”
He glared a smile in Alarica’s direction. “Does she now?”
“Some kind of specialist?” I added.
He turned to me and drew a broad grin. “An Orthopaedic Surgeon.”
“You’re not just an Orthopaedic Surgeon, are you?” Alarica said, her voice rising as she pushed her arm against mine.
Frank turned to her and tilted his head before turning to me with his cheeks bunching.
“Thanks, Al. My career is driven by an interest in the body’s response to stimulation, or in my particular case, how we can reverse a lack of response in life-changing conditions.”
“That sounds...” I said, then paused. “Interesting.”
“More than interesting,” Alarica replied before Frank could. “Some people can’t feel any sensation. They can't feel touch, or even pain.”
“Or pleasure,” he added.
I took a drink from the flute to hide my hard swallow.
“Show Catarina the thing,” Alarica said, turning between us, nearly jumping on the spot as she did.
Frank shook his head.
“What thing?” I said with a puzzled expression.
“It's just a cheap trick. Catarina won’t want to know,” he said, still shaking his head.
I kept quiet.
“Don't be silly,” Alarica said, her voice childlike and high. “It's brilliant. Pleasssse.”
Frank turned, looking over his shoulder. “You'll get me into trouble,” he replied, returning with an apologetic smile.
“Go now,” Alarica said, raising her eyebrows and leaning towards him. “She wants to know what this is all about. Don't you, Catarina?”
I didn’t reply.
“Do you?” Frank said, and Alarica did a little dance.
“Of course she does,” she replied on my behalf, grabbing my hand as I balanced the glass for a second time with the golden liquid rolling from side to side.
We arrived in the kitchen and she had me stand with my back to the work surface. We both watched the door as moments later Frank came through, his face a mixture of reluctance but resigned to corking Alarica’s excitement.
She took Frank’s champagne and jumped from one foot to the next.
He gave her a stern look and she calmed while she took my glass without asking.
“Don’t look so worried,” he said with a disarming smile. “It’s nothing more than a subtle demonstration of what I investigate.” As he spoke, he rubbed his hands together as if trying to warm them.
After a few seconds, his hands went towards my shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
With a nod being all I could manage, I watched his hands move, my eyes widening as I felt his warmth on my skin.
“Everyone knows when you pinch below the Trapezius, the muscle that runs from your neck to your shoulder, you can access a major group of nerves that run through your arms and chest. Certainly if you have a brother. Most people can excite pain. Do you mind?”
I nodded and felt a familiar withering feeling as my knees gave way a little, firming only as he released the pressure.
“But what people don’t know is that with a light touch in the right place,” he said, pausing, his fingers tracing the lines of my muscles, “you can excite a whole different feeling, if you just...” he paused again and I felt the pressure back in my shoulde
rs and impulse of energy flashed up from between my legs. A wave of pleasure rippled up through my body, electricity crackled across my breasts.
“...Apply pressure in the right place.”
Breath stole from my lungs and my eyes jammed shut. If Alarica hadn’t been holding my arm I would have folded to the floor as the aftershocks of energy bucked my spine. I opened my eyes only as the pulse of pleasure subsided.
Still breathless, I could feel my nipples trying to break free from my dress.
“Oh my god,” I said under my breath.
“Wow, that was the most intense reaction I’ve seen before,” Frank said with a broad grin.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Alarica said.
I followed her gaze down to my dress and I pushed my arm across my chest to hide the two points tenting the thin material.
“Are you okay?” Frank asked. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” I said, still struggling to focus.
“I must get back or they’ll miss me,” he said, raising his eyebrows.
I stood quietly at Alarica’s side and stared into her warm eyes. “Wow,” I said, as we followed seconds behind him, back into the party still in full flow.
Sitting back at our seats and with Frank standing near, I was about to say something to Alarica when everyone in the room turned towards the door as a loud pleading voice came from the hall.
The voice soon built to anger and I watched three of the bigger men despatch themselves towards the sound without exchanging words.
I turned back just as Alarica stood to step in front of Frank.
7
“Sit down,” Frank said, his voice firm and leaving Alarica in no doubt as she moved back around to her seat. “Just an uninvited guest,” he added with a carefree laugh in his voice as he smiled toward me.
Although muffled, I caught some of the words from the corridor.
“You know there’s no point,” came a male voice before the door slammed, shutting out most of the volume from the voices rising outside.