Indulge

by Georgia Cates

  We move to the balcony with our Stellas. I prop my feet on the railing and listen to the waves. Complete euphony.

  “I got a little something for us.” Beau holds up what I believe is a joint. “I haven’t smoked pot in fifteen years but I thought why not? We’re here to have a good time.”

  “Is that what you were doing in the taxi?”

  “Sure was.”

  “I knew something was going on.” I grin and bite my lip. “I’ve never smoked pot. Always been too scared.”

  “We don’t have to. I just thought it might be fun to get high together.”

  “What’s it like?”

  “For starters, you get a euphoria.”

  A lot of people achieve those with painkillers but not me. Most narcotics make me barf up my toenails. “I’ve never experienced a chemically induced euphoria.” But a sexually induced one is now a different story.

  “I don’t know how to explain it except it just feels good.”

  “I need more to go on than that.”

  “Your sensations are heightened, especially taste and hearing. Music sounds better. Food is almost unbearable because it tastes so good. You want to eat everything.”

  I’m full as a tick right now. “We’d want to eat even though we just had dinner?”

  “Definitely. And most people say it makes sex better.” Shit. Sex with Beau is already hotter than the hinges of hell.

  “It won’t hurt us?”

  “No, but we’ll probably act silly.”

  Silly, I can handle. “Okay. I’ll do it with you.”

  “I’m ordering food now so it’ll be here when we get hungry.”

  I can’t imagine eating anything else. “Don’t get me anything.”

  “Trust me. You might not think so right now but you’ll want food.” He looks over the menu. “We’ll get cheeseburgers and fries. And chocolate cake.”

  He seems to know an awful lot about this. “Were you a pothead?”

  “Nah. I enjoyed a little combustible herbage while I was in college but never more than once a month or something like that. It’s not addicting.”

  “I don’t guess I had too much fun in college. I was dating my ex-husband then, and all he wanted to do was play Xbox.”

  “I partied my ass off. I probably had a little too much fun.”

  We swap UGA stories while waiting for room service. It arrives unusually fast. I had expected to wait at least thirty minutes.

  “All set.”

  He puts the joint to his mouth and inhales while lighting the end. He sucks in and holds his breath before releasing the smoke. “That little shit charged me ten bucks for this lighter. The joints didn’t even cost that much.” He said joints, meaning he got more than one.

  He takes another drag on it and holds his breath while passing it my way.

  He exhales and the scent invades my nose. Stinky. “Inhale the smoke like you would a cigarette, but hold it in your lungs before releasing. You’ll get a stronger effect.”

  I sputter and cough with the first inhale. There’s no filter so you’re basically puffing straight weed. “That’s fucking horrible.”

  “You don’t do it for the pleasure of the smoke in your lungs. It’s what happens afterward that’s magical.” I make a second attempt and do a little better but I still hack.

  “How long does it take for this stuff to work?”

  “You’ll feel something soon but it peaks in around fifteen to thirty minutes.”

  I suddenly feel . . . sort of . . . really good.

  “We need music,” Beau says before disappearing from the balcony.

  It seems like he’s gone a long time. “Where did you go?”

  “To the living room to turn on the music.”

  “Where else did you go?”

  “Nowhere. I walked straight there and back.” Oh. Feels like he was gone much longer.

  I don’t think I’ve ever been more relaxed in my life. “I like this stuff.”

  “Give it a few minutes, and you’ll love it.”

  “That music is so intense. What band is that?”

  “Arctic Monkeys.”

  “Oh. My. God. I love this song.” He wasn’t joking. You can hear and understand music better when you’re high.

  “‘Do I Wanna Know?’”

  “Do you want to know what?”

  “No. That’s the name of the song. It’s ‘Do I Wanna Know?’ by the Arctic Monkeys.”

  “Oh.” I burst into laughter. “That’s so funny.”

  “You’re already tripping, Peach.”

  “Beauregard, I believe you are correct.” My mind is flooded with a ton of thoughts at once. “Is your name really Beauregard? Because I think it is.”

  “Even high, you aren’t going to get that information out of me.”

  I have no sense of time. I can’t recall if we’ve been on the balcony for fifteen minutes or fifteen hours. I can barely complete a thought in my head, so there’s very little hope of verbalizing much. But I’m happy.

  Chapter 8

  Anna James Bennett

  I open my eyes and assess the fucking disaster hovering in the mirror above me. I reach into my tangled hair and find something gooey and mushy. “What the hell is that?”

  I pinch it with my fingers and pull it down through the strands it’s stuck to. Shit. It’s a fucking squashed French fry.

  I lift my head to look beneath the sheet. Looks like a massacre happened in this bed; ketchup is everywhere. And chocolate. Housekeeping is going to love us today.

  Bits and pieces of the night ping pong back and forth in my head. Then I remember. Beau and I got high together.

  It was a freakin’ circus, and we were the clowns. So much fun.

  Oddly I’m not hung over, but I feel out of sorts. Not bad, just . . . weird.

  I have a memory, maybe, of Beau smearing chocolate frosting down my stomach and then licking it off. I’m not sure if it was a hallucination or a dream so I check my tummy. I find remnants of chocolate in my belly button so yeah, that happened.

  I sit up and look over at Beau. He has chocolate smeared from one side of his face to the other. Priceless. I need a picture of that before he wakes, but I don’t have a clue where my phone is.

  I look at the clock. I can’t believe my eyes when I see that it’s almost noon. I’m not sure when we went to bed but I’m guessing we’ve slept at least ten or eleven hours.

  Knock! Knock! “Housekeeping.” I hope that door is bolted, so she doesn’t come barging in.

  I find Beau’s shirt on the floor and slip it on. I dash to the living room and crack the door minimally. “Housekeeping. Do you need services today?”

  God yes, do we ever. “Yes, but it’ll be a couple hours before we leave. Can you come back?”

  “Of course. No hurry. I’ll come back after three.” Good. I don’t think either of us could be in much of a hurry right now.

  I go back to the bedroom and find Beau sitting on the edge of the bed. “Who was that?”

  “Housekeeping. She’s coming back in a few hours.”

  “Good.” Beau looks at me, I’m sure assessing my disheveled appearance. “What’s in your hair?”

  “French fries and ketchup. I think.” I lift his shirt and point to my belly. “And I’m identifying this as chocolate frosting.”

  “Fuck!” Beau laughs as he falls back on the bed. “What did we do last night?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  “Only the mirror knows for certain because I sure don’t. But I know we fucked. I can recall that much.”

  I clench the inner muscles in my pelvis. I’m sore so we definitely had sex––a lot of it. I’ll check it out fully when I go to the bathroom but I think my stuff is swollen.

  “We’re filthy. Why don’t you come to the shower with me?”

  I feel gross so I want to bathe as soon as possible, but I have something I want to investigate first. “Get in and I’ll be there in a minute. I need
to grab my body wash and razor out of my bag.”

  I hear the shower turn on but I wait until Beau has had time to get in before I snoop in the nightstand drawer.

  Before last night, Beau and I had been together four times. He used condoms from his wallet on two of those occasions. The other two came from the box inside the nightstand. Simple math tells me there should be a minimum of three gone from the box, depending on how many times we did it last night. That’s anyone’s guess.

  I count the remaining latex squares. Twenty-two of the twenty-four remains.

  Shit. We had unprotected sex. And I don’t think he even realizes it.

  I feel sick to my stomach. I swore that would never happen again.

  I was just tested for all those sexually transmitted diseases, and now I have to worry about it again . . . plus a potential pregnancy.

  I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have stopped my birth control just because my marriage ended. I knew I’d eventually have sex again. I just didn’t expect it to be this soon after my divorce. I had every intention of avoiding something like this for a long while.

  Neither of us can really be sure of what happened last night. We may not have even had sex, although his memory and my body say otherwise. It’s possible he didn’t come inside me. Or at all.

  I do the math. I started my period two weeks ago. That puts me in prime ovulation time.

  Shit. This is bad. Very, very bad.

  I have to make a pharmacy run for a morning-after pill. No way around it.

  Beau doesn’t need to know. I’m afraid it’ll remind him of the situation with Erin.

  I step into the shower with Beau. Everything I do feels like slow motion. I’m certain it’s the aftereffect of the weed we smoked last night. “How do you feel about keeping it low-key again today?”

  Beau’s scrubbing his hair, suds flying in all directions. “Can’t lie, Peach. I was hoping you’d want to stay local. And out of the sun.”

  “Do you feel hung over?”

  “Hung over isn’t the right word, but I don’t feel normal.”

  “I feel out of sorts myself. I wouldn’t mind making a run to a pharmacy. I’ve been feeling a little fatigued anyway. It’s probably just the sun but a little dose of vitamin B12 always perks me up.”

  “Maybe it’s all the hot sex wearing you down.” Laughter rumbles deep in his chest.

  “Probably.”

  “I don’t remember this post-smoking sensation from years ago. I guess the pot could have been laced with something. Or maybe I’m too damn old to be doing that shit.”

  “It was a lot of fun, but I don’t want any more.”

  “You’ll get no argument out of me. And I’m sorry about squashing French fries into your hair. I’m sure that was my fault.”

  “It’s okay. I figure it’s my fault you had chocolate frosting smeared in your facial scruff.”

  I feel better after the shower, but I’m still in slow motion.

  I grab my laptop and do a search for top things to do in Montego Bay. Most of it looks hot and exhausting. “What do you think of going to a reggae club? We can chill and have some cold beer.”

  “You’re talking my language, Peach.”

  “Then I guess we should roll since housekeeping will be back any minute. I can’t be here to face them when they come in and see what we did to the bed.”

  “I’m sure they’ve seen worse.”

  “I don’t know. Those brown and red stains could be mistaken for something else.” The things they’ll think make me cringe. I almost feel the need to stay to explain.

  There’s a knock at the door right before we open it. “Shit. They’re here.” I want to die of mortification.

  “Only one thing we can do. Face them.”

  Beau opens the door, and I’m grateful to see Meredith and Grayson on the other side. “Go! Go! We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “What are you talking about?” Meredith asks as I shove her.

  “No questions. Just go and I’ll explain in a minute.”

  We successfully make it to the elevator without coming face to face with the woman who is going to want to kill us.

  “What have you done?” Meredith asks when we’re in the clear.

  Beau and I look at one another and burst into giggles. “We got high last night and apparently had a munchie explosion in the bed. It’s bad.”

  “You, Anna James Bennett, got high?” Meredith shakes her head. “I’m jealous. I wanna get high too.”

  Beau removes the extra joints from his pocket and passes them to Grayson. “You’re welcome.”

  “Thanks?” Grayson says.

  “We’re going to a reggae bar in town. Y’all want to go with us?”

  “Yes! I could use a break from this place and one of the people in it.” Meredith’s nose flares when she rolls her eyes. “What about it, Grayson? Think you can leave her for a little while?”

  I cringe at Meredith’s use and tone of the word her. That can’t be good.

  “You know I’ll do anything you want, babe. Anything,” Grayson pleads.

  Oh, shit. G’s in the doghouse.

  “Well, I want out of here so we’re going.” Yikes. Something unharmonious is happening between them. I’m sure I’ll get the lowdown later.

  “Nearest pharmacy,” I tell the cab driver.

  Meredith’s head spins in my direction. “Are you not feeling well?”

  I give her my big-eyed, go-along-with-me look. “You know how I get when I’ve not had B12 in a while.”

  She looks at Beau, who isn’t paying any attention, and gives me her what-the-hell shrug. “Oh, yeah. Right.”

  Meredith and I aren’t in the door of the pharmacy when I freak out. “We had a huge fuck-up last night.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I look up at the aisle labels and lead Mere toward the feminine products. “We got stoned last night and had unprotected sex. Or at least I think so. I can’t be positive because we were high as kites, but I was sore when I woke up.”

  “Oh. Shit.” She knows I got off birth control pills after the divorce.

  You’re so dumb, Anna James.

  “That’s why I’m here, to get a morning-after pill.”

  “Well, yeah. But where are you in your cycle? You know those things aren’t as effective toward the end of ovulation.”

  “I’m in the middle so I should be fine.”

  “God, let’s hope.”

  I pay the cashier and take the pill before leaving the store, tossing the box in the receptacle by the door.

  Done. Over. It’ll be fine. Beau will never know we had a blunder. So why do I feel so guilty about not telling him?

  * * *

  The club is so crowded we’re lucky to find a free table.

  “Hey, guys. I’m Iggy. I’ll be your server. Drink specials are on the board. The apricot cider is fantastic if you like something sweet.” He places a laminated menu on the table. “Here’s a list of domestics and what we have on tap. I’ll give you a minute to look it over and be back to get your orders.”

  I don’t have to look. “I’m going with the apricot cider.”

  “Me too,” Meredith says.

  Beau and Grayson go with dark stouts. Maybe it’s a man thing but I can’t stand that stuff. The color alone turns me off, but oddly, I love the way it tastes on a man’s breath. Weird but total turn-on.

  We finish round one, and Meredith insists I go to the bathroom with her. The door doesn’t lock so she leans against it to keep unwanted bathroom companions away. “I’m going to kill Grayson.”

  Uh-oh. I knew something was up. “What did he do?”

  “I’m so pissed off.” She sighs. “He was with someone a couple of nights ago, which is fine. I was with someone too, but he fucked her again last night. He didn’t even ask. He just did it.”

  I shrug, totally lost. I thought that’s what they did. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “We have bounda
ries, very strict ones, that we don’t cross. They’re in place for a reason. Rule number two says we never sleep with the same people twice. It’s one of our strictest rules because anything beyond once can become a basis for a connection. And a connection steps into the land of infidelity.”

  “Have you talked to him about it?”

  “Yes, but after the fact. He snuck behind my back to do it, AJ. I’m not sure he was even going to tell me about it. I know we swing, but in our books, that’s as good as cheating. I feel betrayed.”

  She’s clearly hurt, but I don’t know what to say since having sex with someone else, period, would be considered cheating in my book.

  The door pushes in and Meredith slams it shut. “Occupied.”

  A voice on the other side calls out, “Hurry up. I gotta piss.” Nice. So ladylike.

  “Fuck off. We’ll be out in a minute.”

  This is sort of a sketchy place we’re in. “You shouldn’t say things like that down here, Mere. A bitch’ll cut you.”

  “Let ’em try. I’m not scared; I’m fueled by fury.” Meredith is like a chihuahua with a pit bull’s bark.

  We’re given the stink eye on the way out of the bathroom. Frankly, I’m happy to escape unscathed. Those women were scary looking.

  There’s another round of apricot ciders waiting for Mere and me when we return to the table. “Another cider is okay?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Beau leans in so Meredith and Grayson can hear him over the music. “Have you been enjoying Wicked Week?”

  Oh God. He could have said anything but that.

  “Why don’t you tell us about that, Grayson? How much have you enjoyed your time at Indulge?”

  “Beau, my wife isn’t pleased with me in case you didn’t gather that from her tone.”

  “Beau practices polyamory so he understands about rules. Tell him about the one you broke and see if he thinks it’s okay.”

  No. I do not want either of us in the middle of this.

  I grab Beau’s hand beneath the table. “Dance with me.”

  “Gladly.”

  We move to the dance floor. It’s a fast song, J Boog’s “Let’s Do It Again.”

  “I love this song.”