by Meghan Quinn
“Have fun.” She waved at me and then clapped her hands together.
The subway ride over to the club was nerve-racking, especially since I looked so out of place. Then again, it was New York City, so what actually constituted normal? I loved every ounce of the city that was an eclectic melting pot of weirdoes—everyone was so different to the next person—and I was proud to be one of them.
Jenny said Atticus wanted to pick me up at my apartment, but I thought that was silly since we would have to take the subway to the club anyway. Plus, I wasn’t quite ready to be alone with him, especially since I’d never met the guy, so riding by myself made more sense. I thought it was awfully considerate; Jenny and Delaney had other thoughts.
Once I got off the subway and walked the couple blocks to the club, all my nerves vanished as excitement blossomed when a gathering of people, dressed up just like me, were collected together, anticipation in their bouncing feet to get out on the dance floor came into view.
Jenny, Drew, and Atticus were all standing on the sidewalk talking when I walked up to them.
“Hi, guys.”
“Rosie, you made it.” Jenny gave me a big hug while I chanced a glimpse at Atticus.
He fit in perfectly by wearing cuffed grey tweed pants, shoes that matched his pants, and a white shirt with red suspenders and a red bow tie. His hair was slicked to the side and his brown eyes looked warm and inviting.
“Rosie, meet Atticus,” Jenny said. She looked adorable in her knee-length, brown dress and white gloves.
“Atticus, it’s great to finally meet you,” I said while holding out my hand.
“Likewise. Jenny has told me so much about you.”
“Well, I hope I live up to what she’s said,” I answered shyly.
“You do.” He smiled kindly at me.
Oh he was sweet.
I could hear the silent squee in Jenny’s mind as she looped her hand around Drew’s arm and walked into the club, leaving Atticus and me to follow closely behind. He offered his arm to me like a gentlemen, and I took it, letting him guide me inside.
The club was covered in plush red and gold colors with intricate details that instantly brought me back to the era of swing. Old-school New York décor flanked every corner of the room, adding feelings of nostalgia to the ambiance. An impressive chandelier graced the ceiling of the dance floor where couples were swinging already and showing off some impressive moves. I couldn’t be more excited.
“You look beautiful by the way,” Atticus said into my ear as we followed Jenny and Drew to a table. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it right away. I’m kind of rusty when it comes to this dating thing.”
“That’s okay. I am too, and you look very handsome.”
“Thank you.” He smiled at me and pulled me in a little closer. I was already starting to like Atticus. He was soft spoken and sweet . . . right up my alley.
“Will this be all right?” Jenny asked about the booth they started to sit in.
“Looks good to me,” I said. I sat next to her, and Atticus took the seat to my right.
His arm wrapped around behind me on the cushioned bench seat as he looked out at the dance floor, surveying the ambiance and band.
“Wow, there are some amazing dancers out there tonight.”
“Do you come here often?” I asked, silently agreeing with him.
“I try to. It’s been tough lately. My dad’s been in the hospital with cancer, so I haven’t had much time to go out.”
“Oh no, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. He’s in remission right now so things are looking up. When Jenny and Drew said they were going out tonight and had a pretty friend I could dance with, I couldn’t help but agree to come out. I needed the release, you know?”
“I do. I’m glad you met up with us,” I said, touching his thigh instinctively. The movement shocked him for a second but then he softened toward me and tugged on my shoulder.
I sat frozen. What the hell possessed me to touch his thigh? It was a rather bold move, one I’d never done before, so now I sat there, contemplating what I should do next. Should I remove my hand and place it in my lap? Should I stroke his thigh? No, don’t stroke his thigh, I warned my hand, who seemed to have a mind of its own. Stroking of the thigh would be way too bold and beyond creepy after only knowing the guy for two minutes. Instead, I lifted my hand, not making any stroking motion and quickly grabbed my purse on the table. The nerves were starting to get to me, and I was starting to feel itchy and needed to head to the bathroom.
“Excuse me, do you mind if I go to the ladies’ room?”
“Not at all,” he said while getting up. “When you get back, do you want to head out on the dance floor?” The vulnerability in his eyes cut to my very core. I nodded.
“I would love that.”
I turned from the booth and headed to the bathroom where there was a short line.
“One holer,” the lady in front of me called out with a seriously dark smoker’s voice.
“I’m sorry?” I asked, not quite understanding what she meant.
“There’s only one shitter in there. One holer. It’s going to be a while, toots.”
“Oh,” I said and shifted in place, casually pressing my purse against my itchy crotch to scratch it. It was better than my ape hand getting all down and crazy on my red brick road.
“Fancy meeting you here,” a familiar voice said in my ear. I turned to see my handsome best friend standing next to me.
“Henry, what are you doing here?” I pulled him into a hug.
“Thought I would do a little swing dancing. Care to dance with me?”
“I can’t. I’m on a date, Henry, and I have to umm . . . throw some fairy dust on the red brick road.”
He looked at my crotch in confusion so I pulled out my baby powder from my purse and he nodded in understanding. He looked around and then pulled me by the hand out of line and straight into the men’s room.
He locked the door behind us and said, “Go ahead, do your business.”
I covered my mouth and nose and said, “Oh it smells like pee in here.”
“Good job, love. You recognize we’re in a small room with a pisser; now let’s do your business and get out of here.”
“I can’t when you’re looking at me.”
“Fine.” He turned and put his hands in his pocket giving me limited privacy.
For a moment, I took in his appearance. He was wearing fitted grey pants that were folded at the bottom, a pair of saddle shoes, and a checkered shirt with black tie. He looked beyond handsome, like always.
“Nice outfit.” I pulled up my skirt and started squirting baby powder in my underpants . . . the more the better.
“Thanks. I must say, Rosie, you look spectacular. Your tits are amazing in that dress.”
Rolling my eyes, I said, “Thanks, I guess.”
He laughed. “In all seriousness, you look beautiful, love.” I gulped from his compliment. The softness from his voice shot straight through me, making me wonder if he was starting to look at me in a different light.
Silence fell, and an unsettling tension formed between us. Was I crazy for thinking Henry actually might find me attractive? He was just being a friend, right?
I was so damn confused.
Clearing his throat, Henry asked, “You about done?”
“Yeah,” I replied and twisted the cap of the baby powder shut and stuffed it back in my purse.
He turned around and held out his hand. I took it with mine and let him pull me closer. He lifted my chin and said, “Seriously, you took my breath away when I saw you, Rosie. I’m sure Atticus is head over heels infatuated with you already.”
“Thank you,” I replied, not knowing what else to say. Wanting to change the subject, I stopped sweating in my best friend’s arms and asked, “Did you see him?”
A small frown marred Henry’s face for a second before he answered, “Not yet, but I will be sure to give you my rating later tonigh
t, and if he starts to get handsy, you can bet that pretty little butt of yours that I’ll be stepping in.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Can’t help it. I’m protective.”
“Is that why you came here?” I asked as we exited the bathroom, avoiding sneers from the women in the long line, waiting for the “one holer.” “To spy on me, make sure Atticus wasn’t getting handsy?”
“If I said yes, would you be mad at me?”
“You’re impossible.” I shook my head and stepped away. “I’ll be fine, Henry, but thank you for your concern—”
“Henry.” The shrill voice came from the side of the room as a blonde Jessica Rabbit came strolling up to Henry. Her breasts looked like they were going to fall out of her dress at any moment, and her voice rivaled that of Fran Dresher’s. “There ya are. I’d been lookin’ all over for ya,” she said while chewing what seemed like a baseball-sized wad of gum.
I cringed from the heavy accent coming from the eloquent-looking lady, sans breasts.
“Just helping out my best friend here,” he said, blatantly staring at her breasts. Some people never changed. She noticed his perusal and puffed her chest out some more.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, lying since I actually didn’t meet her. I turned to Henry who was able to take his eyes off his date’s nippleloons for more than two seconds. “Have a good night, Henry. I’ll talk to you later.”
He pulled me into a hug and whispered in my ear, “I’m here for you if you need anything.”
“I’ll be fine. Enjoy your friend and her giant moo-moo mammies.”
Chuckling softly, he hugged me tightly and pulled away, giving me that little wink of his.
I headed back to my booth full of energy. I had a date to attend to. Part of me was surprised Henry had come tonight, but I could also acknowledge that knowing he had my back gave me comfort too. But what’s with all the extra-tight hugs and winking?
As I approached the table, Jenny gave me a look of utter confusion as she stared at me. Atticus came up beside me and said, “Are you ready to dance?” I was but the look Jenny gave me was concerning, so I told Atticus to wait one second and beckoned Jenny over. Thankfully, she was already on her way to talk to me.
“What’s going on?” I asked in a hushed tone.
“You’re smoking.”
“Oh, why thank you.” I accepted her compliment, brushing my hands down my side. “But why are you giving me a weird look.”
“No, I mean you’re smoking.”
I leaned close, “What are you talking about?”
“Every time you move, there is this cloud of smoke coming out from under your dress.”
“Cloud of smoke? Are you high?”
“Is your vagina high? Because it’s smoking something under that dress of yours.”
“Jenny, you’re losing it . . .” As I said the words, her accusation clicked in my head just as Atticus grabbed my hand.
“I love this song, come on.”
He pulled me out on the dance floor as a trail of puffed baby powder followed in our wake.
Oh God no.
This can’t be happening.
A smile on his face, pure elation in his every movement, he whipped me around the dance floor, jitterbugging, bouncing up and down and pulling me into him, oblivious to the dusty disaster in my underpants.
With every turn and swing, I could miserably detect a puff of baby powder coming up from under my skirt.
Poof.
Puff.
Pow.
Mortification ran through my veins as I stiffly moved across the dance floor with Atticus, any fluidity to my dancing completely thrown out the window as I clenched my butt as tight as could be, trying my hardest to avoid any more wisps of baby powder to escape from my dress.
In desperation for help, I looked over at Jenny who had her hand over her mouth, looking at me in disbelief. From the look on her face, I knew it was bad. She had to be convinced my vagina was on fire.
My only saving grace; sweet Atticus was completely oblivious as he jigged about, finger dancing in the air, a giant on smile on his face. But as for the rest of the people on the dance floor . . . yikes, the stares, the pointing, they all increased as the lights picked up the film of baby powder excreting from my panties. The lights made it that much more obvious.
Humiliation set in deeper and deeper with each passing moment, with each puff from my panties, and with each twirl Atticus spun me in.
“You’re a good dancer,” Atticus said above the music as he continued to wave his finger in the air to the beat of the music. He really was cute.
“You are too.”
“It’s foggy in here,” Atticus called out as he brushed the baby powder cloud out of our space.
“Yea, weird.” I laughed nervously as I tried to avoid eye contact with everyone who thought I was smoking a plate of pork loins from under my skirt.
Nothing to see here folks, just an excessive amount of baby powder for an itchy vagina. Keep moving on with your night.
“Do you want to try a flip?” he asked, shuffling his legs and twisting my hips by directing my arms.
Did I want to try a flip? And risk all the baby powder gathered in my panties to fall directly on Atticus’s head? Yeah, no way in hell.
“Maybe not right now.” Not until I cleaned out my underpants.
I chanced a glance at the bathroom and noticed the line was non-existent, so I would be able to take care of my situation, but if I told Atticus I had to go to the bathroom again, he might think I was having some kind of bowel movement issue, that or I was a coke addict needing to get my fix. Both options were not flattering, so I tried for option number three: female telepathy.
While dancing, I attempted to gather Jenny’s attention so she could sense my distress, but for the first time since I’d been out on the dance floor, Jenny had vanished, probably to make out with Drew. They were known for heavy petting in public, and I was grateful they’d stepped aside instead of doing it right in front of everyone.
“Where did you learn to dance?” Atticus asked as he spun me out wide and then back into him again. The minute my body connected with his, a puff of powder sprayed up between us, like the spray of an ocean’s wave. But instead of water, it was my—I hate to think it but—it was my pussy powder.
“College,” I answered, trying to play it cool even though I could feel sweat start to trickle down my back from embarrassment.
“I wonder if people are smoking in here,” Atticus asked as he surveyed the room. “Wow, we must be good partners; everyone seems to be watching us.”
“Well, you’re good at leading,” I said, even though I wanted to tell him, “No Atticus, it’s your partners panty pollution that’s affecting the air.”
I continued to fill the air with every move I made, and it got to the point where I grew almost too stiff to move . . . and Atticus noticed.
“Is something wrong?”
Needing to take care of the situation, I said, “Don’t think I’m a drug addict or anything but I have to go to the bathroom again. The line was long last time and I didn’t get to go. I swear I’m not doing drugs or anything since it looks like it, given the fact that I have to go to the bathroom again.”
Say drugs one more time, Rosie.
I was rambling and by the look on Atticus’s face, I wasn’t doing a good job. I could see it in his eyes—the whoa this girl is showing her crazy look.
“Sure, I’ll meet you back at the booth.”
Defeated but determined, I took off for the bathroom and quickly locked myself in the stall. I pulled down my underpants, took them off completely, and dumped all the baby powder, which I’d so stupidly accumulated in there, and put it down the toilet. Powder flew everywhere, making me sneeze forcibly five times in a row.
After I controlled myself, I wiped my nose, and used some paper to wipe away any sort of access. I would just have to be an itchy beast. Better itchy then smoking vagina girl.
I put my panties back on and flushed. I washed my hands as quickly as possible and practically ran back to the booth where Jenny, Drew, and Atticus were waiting for me.
“Sorry about that,” I sniffed as I felt some powder still linger from my sneeze attack.
“What’s under your nose?” Jenny asked, looking at me funny.
“What do you mean?” I asked, wiping my nose, feeling self-conscious in front of my date.
“It’s white.”
Atticus’s eyes shot open as I wiped away the evidence.
“Not sure, is it gone?”
“Yeah . . .” Jenny drawled out as they all stared at me.
I fidgeted in my stance, trying to contain the itch that fired down below. This night was not boding well for me, not even in the slightest.
“Umm, it’s getting late,” Atticus said, looking at his watch. “I should be going.”
He got up and waved bye to Jenny and Drew. He took one look at me and shook his head as he started to walk away.
What just happened?
I was so confused as to why he was leaving so abruptly. What di I . . . oh crap, and then it hit me. The white substance under my nose, the erratic leg movements, the bathroom trips . . . holy shit, he thought I was high.
“Atticus, wait,” I called out as I grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. “I can explain.”
“Rosie, I like you, but I’m not someone who can be strong enough to deal with an addiction.”
“That’s what I can explain.” I pressed my hands to my eyes and grimaced. “It’s baby powder. I was . . . umm, chafing before I came so I decided to use some baby powder to help. I apparently used too much and that’s what all the fog was around us, the baby powder kicking up. I went back to the bathroom to relieve some of it from its duties.”
Mortified. It was the only way to describe the way I felt, but I liked him and didn’t want him to just leave without explanation, especially since he thought I was some kind of drug addict. So I put on my big girl pants and explained everything, hoping he didn’t judge me.
“Baby powder?” he asked, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Yes.” I pulled the little bottle out of my clutch and showed him. “See?” He carefully examined the bottle. “You can smell it, if you don’t believe me.”