The Pleasure Set

by Lisa Girolami

  “Puns and guns, that’s me.”

  Since Sandrine had chosen Crustacean for their first date, which was an ideal restaurant, Laney said, “I’d like to pick the next restaurant. Is that okay?”

  “Fantastic,” Sandrine said. “I’m really looking forward to it. Let me give you my address.”

  As Laney hung up, she sat back in her chair, thrilled about their upcoming dinner date. Admittedly, she felt awkward dating two people at the same time, but she wanted to go with the flow and see what went where. She didn’t have to be in love with Theresa to continue seeing her, but she sure had wild times with her. Her body felt alive in so many extraordinary ways.

  But being with Sandrine felt distinctively genuine and real. And while she and Sandrine had not connected physically, she felt emotionally alive when she was around her. The feelings that Sandrine caused inside her spoke volumes. Just being with her was better than almost anything she could imagine.

  *

  “Are you freakin’ crazy?” Hillary was almost yelling into the phone as Laney changed from her business suit to a deep sea blue Marc Jacobs dress. She had gotten home from work with just enough time to shower and change. “Theresa’s husband could have killed you!”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Laney had been virtually petrified when Roger walked through the door. Surely they were both flushed from the sex. It had to have been obvious. She prayed Roger had been too wrapped up in his phone conversation to notice. And when Theresa had called to tell her to meet the group down at the Tire Store later that evening, she neither alluded to any confrontation with her husband nor sounded stressed.

  “I’m not crazy about your new friend,” Hillary said. “She’s running on a different kind of octane.”

  It felt like nitroglycerin. “I’m having fun and I can handle myself, Hill.”

  “At the risk of sounding like your nagging mother, I’m not so sure. And at the risk of sounding like the nagging mother I am, you still haven’t taken Isabelle out for ice cream. You used to see her all the time, Laney. I’m just concerned that things have really changed. And I’m not sure for the better. You’re running with a hard-hitting crowd.”

  Laney couldn’t disagree, but this change was good for her. “I’ll take Isabelle out soon.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  When Laney arrived at the Tire Store, about eight women from the Pleasure Set were there. It was just after ten p.m. and they were already enjoying some scrumptious-looking cocktails.

  Theresa handed her a drink. “Don’t get too comfortable. This is just a stopover.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “A new location.”

  “Really?” What creative pursuit did she have in mind this time?

  They hung out for about a half an hour, Laney mostly talking to Kay as Theresa gently rubbed Laney’s thigh while conversing with a woman named Sandy. Theresa finally stood. “Grab your car keys and a bottle of your choice, girls, we’re going out. Laney, you can ride with me.”

  “Whose car is this?” Laney had never seen Theresa driving the red Mercedes they climbed into.

  “My husband’s.”

  “Didn’t you have plans with your husband tonight?”

  “Yes. Dinner. He’s home now, passed out drunk for the rest of the night.”

  They drove through Beverly Hills and down Rodeo Drive. The businesses were all closed, and Laney had just begun to wonder where they would end up when Theresa parked down the block from the First Bank of Rodeo. Then a few other cars carrying their friends parked in curbed spaces behind them.

  “I hope you have your keys,” Theresa said as she turned off the engine.

  “My keys?”

  “Time to party at your place.”

  “Theresa, this isn’t a good idea. There are security cameras in the building, you know that.”

  “Turn them off.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “You’re the president, Laney. You can do what you want.”

  “It’s highly against the rules.”

  Theresa turned toward Laney. “That’s why it’s called fucking the system. Most people can’t get away with the things we can. But we can because we’re in the correct, say, social position. It’s truly harmless, though. We just want to get together in different places and party. You’ll be there to make sure we don’t do anything detrimental. We always do this. No big deal.”

  Laney didn’t like the idea at all, but maybe she was playing it too safe. Besides, no one looked at the security footage unless Laney authorized it, and that was only if there was reason to.

  A niggling concern lodged in the pit of her stomach. Should she propose that they just go somewhere else? The women wouldn’t like such a suggestion. No one ever seemed to worry about what they did or where they went. They all seemed to have a fearlessness that she longed to have. They had an unruffled fuck-it-all demeanor and people stepped out of their way. So what harm could a little time in the bank do?

  “Let me switch off the motion detectors and cameras first.”

  Laney unlocked the rear door of the bank. The women filed into the back foyer and Laney told them to stay there while she turned toward the security equipment housed in a metal box on the wall. She opened the cover with her key, then hesitated.

  Theresa stepped up behind her, and when Laney glanced over her shoulder, Theresa smiled her encouragement. It’ll just be a little while, she told herself. She punched in the code to disarm the alarm. Next, she needed to turn the cameras off. She paused, thinking about how important the security cameras were. Each night, a specially formatted tape was marked with the day’s date and inserted into the recorder. Since a time-code mark was registered in the top right corner of the image, a turned-off tape would contain a noticeable skip.

  If no one ever requested the tapes for that night, no one would ever know they were turned off for a while. And even then, she reassured herself that she could explain away the “accidental deactivation” with an innocent story about coming in to work late and inadvertently hitting the wrong button. The First Bank of Rodeo’s record had always been squeaky clean, and no one would question a chance mistake by a very tired bank president who was the daughter of the founder.

  She removed some blank tapes that lay on top of the recorder, ready for the next few days of recording, and placed them off to the side so she could access the Record button. She took a deep breath and pushed the red button that disabled the cameras. When the red light next to the button went dark, she turned to the women.

  “Let’s just stay in my office. The security company that drives by doesn’t need to see us lounging around by the front door.”

  “Fair enough,” Theresa said.

  They all moved to Laney’s office, where they opened bottles of wine and champagne, and Laney turned her computer on to play music.

  Theresa kissed Laney on the cheek, saying, “I have to pee. Be right back. And don’t worry, I’ll be inconspicuous.”

  When Theresa returned, Laney saw her standing in the doorway assessing the women clumped together in her office, sharing the few chairs that were there and sitting on the desk and credenza. “It’s too cramped in here, ladies. Let’s move this party to a bigger room.”

  More than a few concurred, but as they were getting up to head for the door, Laney spoke up, “I’m not crazy about this. We’re nice and secluded back here.”

  “We could move it to the vault,” Theresa said.

  “Yeah, Laney,” Morgan was starting to slur, “loosen up a little. We just want to see where the money from our new business venture will be living.”

  “And besides,” Theresa added, “the cameras are off.” She reached for Laney’s hand.

  Trepidation shimmered down her spine, but Laney knew the roving security patrols wouldn’t be able to see into the vault, so she switched off her computer and office lights, took Theresa’s hand, and led them there.

  Lined with tall rows of brushed-steel safety-d
eposit boxes, the vault didn’t provide anywhere to sit except an empty rolling cart used for heavy items and bags of money. A few women perched on it, passing a bottle of Enate Uno Chardonnay back and forth. Theresa led Laney to a corner of the vault and pushed her up against the deposit boxes, crushing her with a kiss. Theresa’s lips were plump and hot, and Laney could taste cranberry red lipstick sweetened by champagne.

  Other women coupled up and did the same, pressed to the walls, standing with legs entwined, making out and fondling. Sounds of women kissing echoed through the chamber, and Kay’s words about the Pleasure Set came to Laney’s mind. If they only knew.

  Laney and Theresa kissed for a long time, rubbing their hips into one another and massaging each other’s shoulders and backs. Surprising thoughts wandered through Laney’s mind. She would never fall in love with Theresa, though Theresa was unbelievably hot and sexy. It was not necessarily because Theresa was married but because Laney simply hadn’t experienced the growing affection and the eventual desire to share tenderness and devotion that usually followed the physical lure. This was just sex. And that thought astonished her the most. She had never “just had sex.”

  Theresa had not mentioned words like lover or relationship to Laney. It was true that being with Theresa was exciting and provocative. But it was also one-sided.

  Being with Theresa was fun. However, it was always when Theresa planned it. Laney wasn’t free to stop by Theresa’s house, and after the close call with her husband, she wouldn’t want to. And tonight was a little too much for Laney. She really didn’t want to be at the bank. She was taking a huge risk and was uncomfortable because she was worried. Why couldn’t they simply hang out like normal people? A restaurant here, a movie there. But the Pleasure Set wasn’t interested in being normal. They had to be somewhat clandestine, given some of the activities they indulged in. Plus, they considered normal to be a dreadfully humdrum and inferior lifestyle.

  She liked the group of women, but each gathering was a surreal experience that was orchestrated primarily by Theresa.

  At the moment that it was becoming very apparent to Laney that the affair would never go anywhere, Theresa moved her hand down to slip under Laney’s dress. The realization came with a gradual fizzle and a halting sputter. Laney had begun to slowly squirm away from Theresa’s hand when a loud crash made her jump.

  Kay had knocked a bottle of wine off the rolling cart and it had broken into a few large pieces on the cement floor. “Shit!” Kay yelped. “I’m sorry!”

  Luckily, there wasn’t much liquid left and the white wine probably wouldn’t stain.

  Theresa quickly moved away. “I’ll get some paper towels.” And she had left before Laney could offer to go instead. Laney carefully picked up the pieces of glass and carried them to the wastebasket in her office. On occasion she had opened a bottle of congratulatory wine or Scotch with affluent customers, so she was sure no one would question the sodden remains.

  Laney met Theresa on the way back to the vault. Together they cleaned up the mess, and though the wine smelled slightly pungent, it was strongest when she was kneeling close to the floor. She hoped the bank staff wouldn’t notice traces of the incident. And even though a mini-calamity was diverted, that was exactly the kind of problem Laney had feared would crop up.

  “Okay, ladies,” Theresa said after the damp paper towels had also been deposited in Laney’s trash can, “we’d better wrap this up before someone spills something else that’s more expensive or leaves more of a stain.”

  It was a little past one a.m. when Laney turned the cameras and alarm system back on. She locked up and Theresa drove her to the Tire Store to retrieve her car.

  During the ride back, Laney thought about how she could gracefully back out of the intimacy with Theresa but keep the business relationship intact.

  “I want a rain check on what we were interrupted doing,” Theresa said as she parked the red Mercedes parallel to Laney’s car.

  Laney forced a smile and reached for the door.

  “Tomorrow night is an art opening at Morgan’s art gallery,” Theresa said. “It’s a big event. See you there?”

  “Sure,” Laney replied.

  “My husband will be with me. I wanted you to know so you wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.” It did surprise her a little. Although Theresa was married, she rarely seemed to be with Roger. Laney was slightly surprised that she didn’t feel very jealous. And at that moment, she felt strangely relieved that she wouldn’t be risking any surreptitious trysts tomorrow night. Of course, she never knew what was up Theresa’s sleeve. She could be planning a rendezvous in the art gallery’s broom closet, which Laney needed to avoid. She had already experienced one brush with discovery by Roger, and she sure didn’t want to flirt with disaster a second time. She had done more risky things in the past days than in her entire previous life.

  As she drove home, she experienced an invigorating energy. She was relieved that they were out of the bank but also felt a dizzying recklessness at what they had just done. She was truly part of the Pleasure Set now. After things cooled with Theresa, she imagined that Theresa would still be okay. Then they could focus on all the great business deals that would develop. What they did was no one else’s business. No one would understand. She surely wouldn’t have before she became part of the group.

  For that reason, it was probably smart to keep any further details from Hillary.

  *

  Felicia opened Sandrine’s bottle of Château Beychevelle and carried it over to the fireplace, then reclined on some large stuffed floor pillows with Sandrine.

  “I know it’s not winter,” Felicia filled Sandrine’s glass, “but a fire always makes my place feel cozier.” She filled her own glass and set the bottle down on the hearth.

  The warmth of the fire did feel inviting, and Sandrine toasted Felicia. “Salut.”

  “Salut,” Felicia said. “This is nice.”

  Sandrine took a sip. “It is.”

  Before long, the bottle was almost empty and Felicia and Sandrine were laughing about a favorite television show they both watched.

  “If it wasn’t for Shane and Alice, I wouldn’t have watched it at all. They made it much more interesting. And I’m glad Jenny got her just reward.”

  “Oh, I liked Jenny. She was so horrible in such a fun way,” Felicia said.

  “She was awful all the time.”

  “But the actress was so good playing that role. Actually, she was brilliant, because she made us hate her character so much.”

  “I see what you mean. She must be a great actress because she made me cringe every time she was on screen.”

  Felicia placed her wineglass on the hearth. “Yes, that was her talent.”

  Felicia took Sandrine’s wineglass and set it next to hers. “And you have a lot of talent, too.” She kissed Sandrine full on the mouth.

  The wine had loosened Sandrine up quite a bit and she went with the feeling of Felicia’s lips and tongue and roaming hands. When Felicia laid her back, Sandrine felt the full weight of her and moved her hips until they were in line underneath Felicia’s. She pushed up, and Felicia moaned and ground her hips back into Sandrine’s. Felicia was quick to get excited and Sandrine had found out that almost anything stimulated her.

  As they made out, Felicia breathed more rapidly. “I need you to touch me,” she said, and grabbed Sandrine’s hand, pushing it down her pants. This wasn’t the first time they had ventured that far, but before they had merely massaged each other without climaxing. This time, however, Felicia seemed hell-bent on getting there.

  Sandrine followed Felicia’s movements, finding the right spots at the right times. Felicia moaned and grew wetter as she gyrated on top of her. As they were kissing, the thought of kissing Laney jumped into Sandrine’s mind. Surprised, she let the thought linger. Imagining Laney kissing her and feeling the stimulation against her pelvic bone made her grow wet from the fantasy and awkward from
the guilt.

  When Felicia began to shudder, Sandrine’s fantasy evaporated. And as much as she now wanted to stop what she was doing, she knew that would be cruel. She slowed her movement down, though keeping the same pressure.

  Felicia screamed and bucked several times during her orgasm.

  As Felicia’s body wound down and her cooing subsided, Sandrine thought again about where she was and what she was doing. She liked Felicia but didn’t feel the connection she desired. The experience had left her aroused, but she didn’t feel like having Felicia reciprocate. She just wanted to go home.

  They kissed a while longer and when Felicia began to unbutton Sandrine’s Levi’s, Sandrine gently covered her hands with her own.

  “What’s the matter, baby?” Felicia rose to look her in the eyes.

  “I’m good. I just don’t feel like going any further tonight.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, most definitely.”

  Felicia smiled faintly. “Might this have to do with the new date?”

  Sandrine returned the smile. “I suppose it does.”

  “Well, I won’t take it personally. I’ve felt that before with others. It’s part of the dating game. But I have to say that you’re just about the sexiest women I’ve seen in a long while.”

  “Thank you, Felicia. Could we just hang out, enjoy the fire, and talk?”

  “As long as you do one thing.” Felicia put her arm around her. “Don’t forget about me if things change.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  All the parking spaces on Melrose Avenue were full when Laney arrived at the Morgan Art Gallery so she parked on a side street, almost two blocks away. She had to wait in a long line to get in, and a group of paparazzi stood on either side of the doorway snapping photographs as people entered and calling out the names of the many celebrities that were there.

  Eventually, she got inside and mingled with the crowd until Kay grabbed her arm.

  “We’re all in the back,” she said, and led Laney to a group of Pleasure Set women and some men she didn’t recognize. She met Morgan Donnelly’s husband as well as Kay’s actor boyfriend, Rance, which was odd because Laney thought Kay had broken up with him. Someone handed Laney a glass of champagne while Morgan explained that she had successfully procured the artwork of a famous Russian artist whose name was so long Laney couldn’t easily repeat it.