Saving Her

by B E Brouillard

  “I found texts on his phone, Di,” Desirée bit out. She didn’t want to put a downer on the evening, but the fizzy wine was loosening her tongue, and somehow it didn’t feel bad to be discussing her fears with a friend. Left inside, they gathered a life that consumed her, made her feel toxic. The sense she’d had of feeling a tight band around her forehead gradually eased.

  Di’s face remained impassive. “What do you think is going on, hon?” She was cautious about what she said about her friends’ partners. She’d always believed that saying something offensive about a lover had the potential to backfire if the friend repaired the relationship and ended up hating her for voicing her opinions. Yet she’d never been able to warm to Desirée’s fiancé; he was controlling and manipulative, and his ego seemed to be fed by making her friend feel worthless.

  “I’m pretty sure he’s fucking around, Di.” Desirée was uncharacteristically blunt. “I’ve suspected it for a while, but there are just too many facts supporting it now.”

  “So, what do you plan to do?” Di asked. Desirée could see her friend wasn’t feeling charitable to Jules, but Diana held her tongue.

  “I don’t know…I haven’t given it enough thought. And right now, I’m just so angry. I want to lash out,” she admitted. “I know that’s never going to be constructive.” Desirée heaved a sigh. “Which is why I came to you.” She felt a twinge of guilt. It had been months since she’d seen her friend, and now, here she was, demanding moral support in a shitty situation of her own making. “I’m sorry to lay this all on you.”

  Diana reached a hand to her shoulder and squeezed. “Sweetie, don’t even start apologizing! You always blame yourself when things go wrong, and I promise you, this is not your fault! Jules made choices without considering you because he’s a selfish bastard who—” She stopped abruptly. “No, that came out wrong. Look, I just want you to know that I love you and you’re welcome here anytime, for any reason. Even more so when it’s something as important as this. You can’t face it alone, even though I know that’s what your instincts might tell you to do.”

  Desirée smiled ruefully. “You know me too well,” she murmured, and put her hand over Di’s where it still rested on her shoulder. “Anyhow, what I need right now, is to let my hair down for a bit. Okay with you?” Diana’s concerned expression changed abruptly, and she let out a whoop.

  “For sure, sweetie! You’re speaking my language!” She leaped up and turned up the volume on her sound system then began dancing around the tiny space. “Let’s get changed and get out of this place, babe!” She pointed a half-empty champagne flute at Desirée as she shimmied. “We’ve got the whole night ahead of us, and we are hot!” Desirée glanced down at her faded gray sweats and grinned.

  “I think I might need to be hotter,” she added, clambering up and joining her dancing friend as she headed out of the little lounge. Diana’s bedroom was the biggest room in the house. She’d once explained that since it was the place where she spent the most time when she wasn’t traveling, it needed to be peaceful. As visually jangling as the rest of the apartment was, with its collection of ornaments, photos and artworks, the bedroom was a haven of serenity. The soothing ivory walls were complemented by gossamer curtains shot with gold and silver thread. Muted black and white prints of Diana’s own photos adorned the walls. An oversized bed took up most of the room, laden with plush cushions in varying shades of gold and silver. One wall was dominated by a full-length mirror beside a dressing table. Diana headed there now, reaching for a hairbrush and singing into it comically. Desirée laughed.

  “You’re a nut-job!” she giggled as her friend began shedding clothes and rifling through her closet.

  “That’s why you love me!” sang Di. “Now, quit standing around and get dressed!”

  The women bopped around the room like teens as they dressed, applied make-up, and fussed with their hair. Every now and then, Diana would recognize a song on her iTunes mix, shriek, and turn up the volume.

  “The neighbors are going to complain,” Desirée yelled over a particularly upbeat remix of ‘Born to Be Wild’.

  “Let them!” Di yelled back, but discreetly muted the noise a little. “You look fabulous!”

  Desirée had slipped into the figure-hugging dress she’d brought with. Although modest in length and with a polo-neck that almost reached her chin, the soft fabric clung to her curves as if painted on. The deep burgundy tone was a rich complement to her ivory skin. She’d pulled her black mane into a sleek ponytail that gave her face an exotic tilt. Dark shadow brought out the blue of her eyes, and a smudge of burgundy matched her lips to her dress. She grinned and did a little twirl, testing out the heels she hadn’t worn since New Year’s Eve, months before.

  “I think I can still rock these babies,” she laughed, secretly admiring the way the heels lengthened her calves and brought out the light hint of muscle there. She felt good.

  Di was dressed in a pair of snug black jeans, which offset a glittering gold halter-neck shirt that left her entire back bare. Her tawny curls tumbled wildly over her shoulders.

  “You’re gonna knock their socks off! But heck, you’re gonna freeze your ‘bits’, Di!” Desirée took in her friend’s skimpy shirt with concern.

  “Nah, it’ll be hot in there. Besides, I’ve got this…” Diana hauled an oversized black jacket out of the closet and draped it over her shoulders. “It got me through midwinter in London. I’ll be just fine.”

  A ping on Diana’s cellphone caught her attention, and she glanced at the screen.

  “Uber’s here,” she sang out, reaching for her purse. Desirée did the same, casting another glance over her shoulder at her reflection in the mirror as they left the room. Inadvertently, she looked down at her hand at the small, shining stone that glinted from the ring on her finger; the tiny diamond of her engagement ring. Before she had time to think, she twisted the ring off her finger and slipped it into her bag. “Party time!” Di’s voice reached her from the doorway, and she skipped to catch up.

  ◆◆◆

  The sound of thumping music greeted them before they even reached the front of the queue. Despite the cold, their spirits were high as they waited to get into the club. Diana had wanted to skip the line, but Desirée declined.

  “Others having been waiting here for longer!” she told her friend, who shook her head and tutted.

  “You’re such a goodie-two-shoes,” she grumbled, wrapping her jacket tighter around herself. “I might end up freezing my bits off after all!”

  Desirée grimaced, silently admitting that her knees were starting to feel like iceblocks, and she couldn’t feel her toes.

  “Hey!” called out a voice from the front of the line. “You two…You’re in!” Desirée and Di looked around in confusion as the crowd turned to look at them. “We need more blondes!” the voice continued. “And you’ll do too.” The guy was talking to them. Desirée shifted awkwardly, uncomfortable to be in the spotlight.

  “What?” a guy shouted out from the front of the line. “I’ve been waiting here for half an hour!”

  “Yeah, well, you’re gonna keep waiting until you can look like one of them,” the voice, which they now saw belonged to a burly doorman, continued. Looming at least 6’5” and dressed entirely in black, the bouncer stepped towards the girls and guided them to the door with a meaty hand behind Di’s back. She dimpled up at him and winked, then turned to Desirée.

  “See! I told you we were hot!” she giggled. Desirée felt her cheeks flaming under the unfamiliar attention they’d drawn. This was so unlike her regular daily routine she’d begun to feel like a totally different person. The warm tingle left by the bubbling wine helped too. She pulled her shoulders back, flicked her ponytail, and strode toward the door.

  ‘Let Jules see me now!’ she thought to herself, aware of the envious stares of those left behind in the line.

  The interior of the club was dark and warm with the heat emanating from the crowd of bodies within. For
a moment, Desirée felt overwhelmed, and then she allowed herself to be swept into the milling humanity. She felt a firm hand grip hers as Diana reached for her.

  “Don’t get lost, babe!” her friend called out over the din, tugging her toward the bar. The pair weaved through the crowd until they reached the busy bar counter. Diana brazenly pushed her way to the front, resting her forearms on the surface and leaning her ample breasts on the top. She flicked her mane and shot the bartender a megawatt smile that was bright enough to be seen from space. “Four tequilas, please!” she called out. A guy next to her grumbled as the bartender ignored him completely and homed in on her gorgeous friend. Within moments, four shot glasses were lined up in front of her, accompanied by a saucer of lime slices.

  “No!” Desirée gasped as she heard the order. “That stuff goes straight to my head!”

  “Silence!” Diana commanded, turning to pass a glass her way. “Tonight, we party!” She pushed the glass more insistently into Desirée’s resisting fingers and then turned to reach for a glass of her own. “Down the hatch!” she yelled over the music, and shot the liquor down her throat before reaching for the lime. “Ugh!” she gritted out, her face twisted into a grimace as she bit into the sour fruit.

  “Ohmigod!” Desirée groaned and then followed suit. The fiery liquid burned a trail down her throat, and she gasped. Before she knew it, Di was shoving a slice of lime into her mouth and handing her another glass.

  “Tekillya!” Di shrieked and slapped her choking friend on the back. “Another! Do it!”

  Desirée shook her head but put the glass to her lips and tipped her chin up. Another burst of fire seared down her throat, and she shuddered. “Ohmigod,” she said again, and her friend’s face swam in front of her for a second as her eyes watered.

  “Right, now you’re ready!” Diana laughed as she took her hand and led her to the dance-floor. A crush of bodies gyrated beneath swirling lights. Within minutes the heady combination of sound, liquor, and revelry had Desirée swaying her hips and raising her hands over her head. “That’s the way, babe!” Di called out. “Let it all hang out!”

  Soon the warmth of the room and the exertion of the activity created a light sheen of perspiration shimmering on her forehead. She closed her eyes and spun and swirled and let her body twist to the music that surrounded her. A tap on her shoulder drew her attention, and she glanced up to see Di standing in front of her holding out two more shot glasses. Desirée wrinkled her nose but didn’t resist this time, reaching for the glasses and knocking back each in turn. Her friend laughed with delight and disappeared from sight, though Desirée knew she’d be close by. She let the heat course through her veins, her limbs felt like they’d been infused with rubber. Although normally she would have felt self-conscious about feeling the light drunken buzz while out in public, tonight, this was what she needed. A pair of hands settled onto her hips, and she giggled as she felt herself guided into a twisting dance.

  “Cheeky chick,” she laughed, dropping her hands to cover those on her hips.

  Then stopped.

  They didn’t belong to her friend. She trailed her fingers over the distinctly masculine lines of the wrists and forearms attached to the hands that gripped her securely. Her first instinct was to jerk away, but something stopped her. The beat of the music had deepened and grown sinuous, and the hands on her hips moved her with the new beat.

  The DJ’s voice called out over the sound system, “Here’s an old classic to give you a moment to catch your breath, folks! Still rockin’ though! Catch this oldie from Chris Isaak…it’s called Wicked Game…” He had one hand on the console in front of him, and the other holding his oversized headphones against one ear, his face furrowed in concentration. The mood of the room changed, grew sensual.

  Desirée took a sharp breath as she was pulled back against a hard, warm body, those hands still on her hips. She didn’t turn to look at her dance partner but settled against his chest, letting her head drop back into the curve of his shoulder. He was tall – she could feel his chin brush the top of her head – and the breadth of his shoulders told her this was a big man. She allowed herself a small glance down to his hands; his fingers were long and strong, they pressed firmly into the flesh over her hipbones.

  She closed her eyes and continued to let him move her, felt his hands slide along her sides, around her belly. His head had dipped down, and she could feel his hot breath on her ear and cheek. There was a crisp fragrance about him, a mixture of citrus, musk, and…fuel? She couldn’t make it out, but she inhaled deeply. His cheek brushed hers, the light stubble grazing slightly. It made her shudder, and she felt a shiver of gooseflesh ripple over her skin. Beneath the clingy fabric of her dress, she felt her body tighten, tingle. She didn’t stop moving, just let the sensations wash over her as his hands trailed up her sides, sliding dangerously close to her breasts, where her nipples had puckered against the lace of her bra.

  Her head was spinning a little, perhaps the heat, perhaps the alcohol…perhaps the proximity of this stranger who had her body in his grasp. His lips grazed the shell of her ear, and she shuddered again, giving a tiny gasp. She shut her eyes tightly for a second, took a deep breath, then opened them. She had to know who this was.

  Or did she?

  She started to turn, braced herself to meet his eyes, and looked into…nothing. He was gone. She spun around to see if he’d slid behind her, whirled her eyes through the crowd. The hot press of bodies continued moving to the music, the dancers oblivious to her. She rubbed her eyes, realized she’d probably smudged her mascara, and quickly pulled her hands from her face.

  “What the—?”

  “Hey, you!” a familiar voice called out. It was Di, her hand extended with yet another glass.

  “No, I—” Desirée began, not ready for another hit of liquor.

  “It’s water, silly! Gotta keep you hydrated.” Diana smiled. Desirée’s fingers curled around the long, cool tumbler, and she raised the glass to her lips, drinking thirstily. The icy liquid hit her system and seemed to steam in her veins.

  “Did you see the guy?” she shouted to Diana when she’d come up for air. She was still scanning the crowd around them.

  Her friend shrugged and shook her head. “What guy?” Di replied.

  “The tall guy, the one I was dancing with,” said Desirée.

  “I just left you for a minute to get us some water. You’ve been dancing alone here the whole time. I could see you from the bar.” Diana nodded to the spot she’d been standing. The view of the dance floor was relatively unobstructed. Desirée blinked, then shrugged back.

  “Umm…sure, okay, never mind,” she mumbled.

  “What?” shouted Di.

  “I said, never mind!” Desirée yelled back. “Let’s get back in there!” She nodded back to the dance-floor and gave a jiggle of her hips. There was no way she was letting this night be ruined by her overactive imagination. The steady rock tempo had picked up pace, and the bass was thumping through her irresistibly. They moved deeper into the throng and allowed themselves to be swayed by the rhythm of the crowd. All the while, though, Desirée felt alert to the slightest touch of those around her, secretly hoping to catch another glimpse of the man who’d moved her.

  Several songs passed, and somehow they were joined by another dancer – a cute, compact, dark-haired man who seemed to zone in on Diana. The pair were spinning and gyrating beneath the lights; Desirée grinned at how good they looked together. By now, she was out of breath, and her thirst was returning.

  “Drink?” she mouthed to Diana, who nodded vigorously.

  “Tekilllllyaaaaa!” she yelled over the music. Desirée laughed and shook her head.

  “Oh, hell no! Not again!” she yelled back before turning toward the bar. Somehow when she got to the counter, she didn’t get the same prompt service her golden friend received. She didn’t mind. The short reprieve gave her a chance to catch her breath, and she leaned over the counter, running her eyes over t
he revelers gathered there. Her lips were still tilted into a light-hearted grin, and she caught sight of herself in the mirror behind the bar area. She was happy. She couldn’t remember when last she’d glowed like this. She gave herself a sassy wink, then felt a little sheepish, hoping nobody had seen her.

  “Pretty,” a voice said from behind her. Her head shot up. Reflected in the mirror were the most vivid turquoise eyes she’d ever seen. They seemed to glow from behind her shoulder. Firm fingers on her hips made her gasp in startled recognition.

  Her mystery dance partner.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

  “You smell good,” the voice murmured into her ear. His lips were close enough to graze her skin. Her tightly slicked back ponytail had left her neck and throat bare, and she suddenly felt exposed. She stared up at the mirror, where she finally got a chance to see him clearly. Her breath caught as she took in the lines of his face, the angular jaw, high cheekbones, thick caramel hair.

  ‘My God, he’s fucking beautiful!’ her muddled brain seemed to babble. A flash of white teeth glinted from his reflection behind her, and his impossibly lovely lips curled into a mocking grin. As if he could hear her.

  ‘No, he can’t hear me,’ her mind continued to race.

  “Miss? Can I help you? Miss?” a voice broke into her confusion. Not his voice.

  “I…I…Two tequilas,” she said without thinking, sliding cash across toward the barman who was waiting expectantly in front of her.

  ‘What am I doing? I’ll pass out!’ Then she met her own eyes in the mirror. Felt the hard body, hot behind her. Remembered Jules’s drunken breath as he slurred his shitty comments. The messages on his phone. She squared her shoulders and knocked back both vile little shots in quick succession, slamming the glasses down on the counter.