by S. E. Law
Not that I can blame her or anything. If I had half of Jenny’s charisma and charm, or half of her comfort in her own body, I would probably be out there partying with her. But I don’t. I’m just a curvy twenty-year-old girl with mousy brown hair and, in my opinion, equally dishwater brown eyes. I’ve never had sex - never even had a boyfriend, actually (unless you count Dylan Rogers back in fifth grade, but that lasted all of about a week). So far, I’ve stayed away from the social scene, maintaining a small group of friends but otherwise keeping to myself. Sometimes, I wonder what the other girls are doing: the wild ones who always seem to come home with flushed cheeks and their hair askew. But then I get into another good book, and the wondering stops. They’re probably having too much fun, while I’m still safe with my Heathcliffs and Mr. Darcys
Which brings us back to the current situation. Jenny is staring at me again, like she’s sizing me up, and I can feel myself starting to itch under her gaze.
“What is it?” I ask. “You’re giving me that look again.”
“Oh, nothing,” Jenny replies, staring out the living room window. Her eyes still have that glint in them. “I was just thinking how unfortunate it would be to miss out on an opportunity to hang out. You know, since it’s your first week back and everything.”
“Oh, jeez,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re pulling the guilt trip card. We’ve got the whole summer, Jenny! We-”
“Come on, please? I know this really great party going on.” All pretenses are out the window now. She’s begging me at this point, and I can already tell she’s not going to let it go. “Just for a few minutes. We can show up, check it out, and if we’re not feeling it, we’ll leave. Let’s at least try. Please?” She puts her hands under her chin, batting her eyelashes and eliciting a chuckle from me.
In spite of my resistance, I find myself having a hard time telling her no. I run a hand through my hair, letting out a sigh. “I don’t even have nice clothes,” I say. “What am I supposed to-”
“Just wear something light,” Jenny replies, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s hot out there.” There’s something evasive in her tone, but I don’t see the point in questioning it.
I purse my lips.
“Just for a little bit, right? And if it sucks, we leave?”
She nods, a placating smile already on her face.
“Promise.”
You’re going to regret this, I think to myself, but I can already feel the last of my resistance crumbling.
“Okay,” I say, shaking my head and giving a dry chuckle. “Fine. You win. I’ll go, but I swear, if it sucks then we have to leave immediately.”
“Of course!” my friend says innocently. But then her grin becomes devious again. “I promise it won’t be bad, Frankie. I think you’ll love it, in fact.”
I shoot a glance at Jenny because there’s something odd about her words, but I can’t put my finger on it. Brushing it out of my mind, we spend the rest of the afternoon at my house. Jenny helps me put on some makeup - she was always better at that kind of thing than I was - and assures me multiple times that the sundress I brought back from California will be perfect party attire. She seems fixated on my neckline, assessing it like it’s the key to my future, and at one point Mom stops in the doorway and gives us an inquisitive look.
“You girls all right in there?”
I nod.
“Yeah, Mom. Just getting ready for a party tonight.”
Gertrude raises her eyebrows, no doubt surprised to hear those words coming out of my mouth.
“Okay,” she says after a moment’s pause. “Have fun. Just don’t stay out too late. Remember, we’re going to dinner tomorrow with George and his son. Good first impressions, and all that.”
I nod, giving her a thin smile, and watch her disappear down the hallway. George is my mom’s fiancé. He’s a wealthy real estate developer who’s set to become Mom’s fourth husband. I have my doubts that it’s going to work out, given Gertrude’s track record. I still want to be there for her, though. She hasn’t had an easy go of it since dad left.
Jenny eyes me over her compact mirror. “You still haven’t met your stepdad yet?”
“Soon-to-be stepdad,” I correct her. “I haven’t met his son either.”
“Damn,” Jenny says, shaking her head. “That’s weird. They’re already engaged too?”
I shrug.
“It’s Gertrude’s life. She can do what she wants, and you know my mom. She works at light speed when it comes to men. I’m just glad I won’t be here to see it if this marriage falls apart like the rest of them.”
“That’s depressing,” remarks Jenny, snapping the compact closed. “I say we head out for our night of debauchery. I guarantee that by tomorrow morning, you’ll have forgotten all about your mom’s dating life.”
I chuckle and dismiss the idea, unaware of just how true it will turn out to be.
The drive through the suburbs takes less time than I’m expecting, but we’ve managed to avoid the majority of the rush hour traffic on our way to the neighborhood where the party is taking place. Inwardly I’m already starting to regret agreeing to come, and wonder whether it’s even possible to throw a fun house party in the suburbs, where the best one can hope for is beer that’s not too warm. But it’s too late to turn back now, especially with Jenny practically bouncing in her seat with excitement, and as we pull up to the curb and climb out of her van, I force myself to put on an enthusiastic face.
“It’s just up there, on the corner,” my friend enthuses, pointing to a large house at the end of the block. This isn’t just any house. This place is practically a manor. The red brick building is big, obviously expensive, and even as we approach down the sidewalk, I can hear the muffled sounds of music, voices, and laughter coming from inside. I notice that the window blinds are all drawn, with light barely escaping from the inside, and that strikes me as a little odd.
“Do you know anyone here?” I ask, feeling tentative as we walk up the steps to the door.
Jenny shakes her head.
“Not exactly. A friend of a friend is hosting. She said it was going to be wild.”
“Oh,” I say, a hint of apprehensiveness creeping into my voice. “That’s, uh… good. I’m sure it will be fun.”
If Jenny picks up on my nervousness, she doesn’t say anything. I was never one for parties back in high school. I went to a few, yeah, but they inevitably ended with me standing awkwardly in a corner, drinking root beer - or on rare occasions, actual beer - while I watched everyone else have a good time without me. As Jenny rings the doorbell, I can already tell that’s where I’ll end up in T-minus twenty minutes, and just hope she makes good on her promise to leave when things get boring.
After a moment, a svelte brunette answers the door, giving us a once-over with her eyes. I feel immediately self-conscious, like I’m being assessed, but I try to put on a nonchalant expression. The girl at the door is dressed in a silk kimono, and I’m a little surprised to see someone so casual, even at a house party. Is it the latest style to wear robes to parties?
Jenny doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, her eyes lighting up as soon as the door opens.
“Hi,” she says immediately, beaming. “I’m a friend of Rachel Martin. She said this was the place to go for a good time.”
“Oh okay,” the brunette says. She opens the door wider to let us in. “Rachel’s inside already, but don’t be surprised if she doesn’t say hi right away. She’s a little busy at the moment.” There’s a gleam in her eyes that I can’t put my finger on, but she doesn’t give us time to think about it any further before sweeping away. We step inside, and the door closes behind us. The thumping music is immediately amplified, and my eyes take a moment to adjust to the dim lighting of the interior.
Whatever I was expecting, this wasn’t it. In my limited experience with parties, I’m used to beer cans scattered on the floor, overturned chairs, and the occasional mess from someone who got too was
ted. Instead, we’re greeted with soft mood lighting that must be connected to the central system because the lights change from turquoise to purple to orange to green in time with the music. There’s no one in the front entryway, but from the other rooms I can hear voices and… moans? I furrow my brow, glancing at Jenny, but she looks like a kid in a candy store.
Then, something shocking happens. The woman who let us in pauses at the end of the hallway, undoes her kimono tie, and lets it drop to the floor. I gape when I see she’s naked underneath, but she seems totally at ease as she looks over her shoulder at the two of us.
“Come on,” she says, nodding in the direction of the living room. “The fun’s this way.”
I’m too flabbergasted to say anything, although my eyes pop out at the woman’s ivory body. She’s slim and lithe with a tiny chest and narrow hips. Does she feel that this is strange? Evidently not.
I nudge Jenny.
“What’s going on?” I whisper harshly. “Why did she take off her robe?”
My friend ignores me.
“Come on, Frankie. Let’s see who else is here.”
I stare, but continue to follow them, still dumbstruck, around the corner. The living room is large and surprisingly neat for the site of a house party, but that barely crosses my mind as I look around. What was I expecting? Spin the bottle? Beer pong? Drunk frat boys spraying graffiti on the walls? Whatever it was, it wasn’t this.
Everywhere I look, people are spread on the floor, draped over sofas, and leaning against the wall. Most are nude, just like the girl who answered the door, and all are engaged in some kind of dirty act. In the back, I see a girl giving a frantic blow job to a tall guy against the wall. Another guy leans over the couch, thrusting doggy-style into a moaning co-ed. Three girls are tangled up on the floor, limbs and tongues everywhere, to the point where I can’t tell where one ends and another begins. Through open doorways, I see more of the same. All around us are beautiful people doing filthy things, the kind of things I didn’t know existed outside of porn. The kind of things I never, ever saw myself doing.
Our hostess winks at me and Jenny before straddling a guy who’s lounging next to the other couple on the couch and placing his hands on her breasts.
“Make yourselves at home,” she sings before leaning down to kiss the man passionately. Evidently, she sees her work as done.
My jaw must be on the floor. I turn to Jenny.
“What the hell?” I hiss. It’s the only thing I can think of.
“What?” Jenny asks, feigning innocence.
“I thought you said this was a house party,” I whisper, watching as the brunette grinds against the guy on the couch.
“It is a house party,” Jenny replies, her eyes alight as she takes it all in.
“No, it’s not,” I argue. “It’s some kind of… I don’t know…”
“Sex party?” Jenny supplies. “Pretty great, right?”
“Since when have you been into this?” I demand, watching as she kicks her shoes off and begins tugging at the straps of her tank top.
“Just this past year,” she replies, giving me a sneaky grin. “One of my friends at Granite Heights Community College introduced me to the scene. It’s the best time you’ll have this summer, I can guarantee.”
I shake my head, at a loss for words. The idea that something this sordid could be happening in the suburbs of Granite Heights is almost ridiculous. I’ve lived here almost my entire life and I never, ever would have suspected it.
“I don’t know about that, Jenny,” I reply, my face heating up as I watch the orgy that’s happening around me. “This is like some Eyes Wide Shut shit.”
“Yeah,” she agrees, “but without the masks. Even better, right?”
I shake my head, astounded.
“I don’t think this is really my scene.”
Jenny turns to me as she shrugs off her shirt. Her ample chest jiggles in her tiny bra, but my friend doesn’t seem bothered at all.
“I felt the same way at my first one. Just trust me. Grab some champagne or something. You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” She winks at me. “But I haven’t seen anyone come to one of these things and not have a good time.”
“Right,” I say, biting my lip. “I guess I’m going to be the first.”
“Whatever you say, Frankie,” Jenny says. “Come to the kitchen with me and get some wine, at least. It’ll loosen you up. And take your dress off.”
“No way,” I say, wrapping my arms around myself.
She shrugs, pulling off her shorts and not seeming at all embarrassed to be standing there in her bra and underwear. Without another word she heads for the kitchen. Not knowing what else to do, I follow her like a sheep.
There’s more debauchery going on in the kitchen, and the drink counter seems to be the only surface that people aren’t using to get off. Unbothered, Jenny grabs a glass and fills it with champagne, passing it to me before pouring one for herself. I take a tentative sip, hoping the alcohol will at least let me relax, but as I watch Jenny strike up a conversation with a big blond man, I doubt it. Moments later he’s taking her by the hand and leading her away to another room, and she shoots me a sly look over her shoulder as she goes. Oh my god, is my friend going to …?
I’m left standing in the corner, the only clothed person in a house full of naked people, my fingers feeling numb on my champagne glass. Everywhere I look, people are having fun. I must be the only virgin here, and it’s probably obvious to everyone around me. Did Jenny know when she invited me? Is this just a ploy to find me a guy to hook up with? Or is it some kind of cruel prank to get back at me for leaving her in Granite Heights?
As the questions surge through my mind, I find my grip on my champagne glass loosening. By the time I realize that it’s slipping out of my fingers, it’s already too late, and the next thing I know, the champagne is splashing all over the man next to me. I fumble to catch the glass before it shatters on the floor, but the damage is done; the man turns to look at me as he wipes champagne off his chest, and one look at him is enough to make my breath catch in my throat.
He’s the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen. He’s probably in his late twenties to early thirties, by my guess, with jet-black hair and sky blue eyes. His body is tall and athletic, his bare chest sculpted like a model’s. He’s naked like the rest of him, and I force myself not to gape at how well-endowed he obviously is. My eyes snap back to his gorgeous face, cheeks flushing hotly. For a moment I’m at a loss for words, and all I can do is stammer.
“S-sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry about it,” the guy drawls, giving me a crooked smile that makes my heart race.
I blush, looking at the ground. Have I ever seen a guy this beautiful? More importantly, has a guy this beautiful ever said more than a single word to me? I’ve never felt more out of place in my entire life, and I’m already forgetting about Jenny, too sheepish and embarrassed in the presence of this handsome stranger. Realizing he’s waiting for a response, I blink, blush harder, and meet his intense blue gaze.
“Sorry, what was that?”
The guy grins again, looking both understanding and teasing.
“I asked you what your name was.”
“Oh.” I bite my lip. “My name’s Frankie.”
“Frankie,” the guy says, nodding thoughtfully. “I like that - it’s cute.” Does he have any idea that he has me sweating and fumbling like a giddy schoolgirl? “Is it short for something?” he asks.
I clear my throat.
“Um, yeah. Francine. But I never really felt like a Francine, you know? Not since I was a kid, when my mom…” Realizing I’m babbling, I mentally kick myself, wishing I could crawl under the kitchen counter and never come out. Why the hell did I come here? What was I thinking? Now I’m standing here in front of a strange, gorgeous guy I don’t know, rambling on as if he would actually care about anything I have to say. “Sorry,” I repeat, feeling like I’m going to explo
de from the awkwardness. “What, ah… What’s your name?”
“Hunter,” the guy replies, eyeing me thoughtfully. “You’re pretty cool, Frankie.”
I roll my eyes, hoping I come off as less self-conscious than I feel. “Yeah, right. Do I look like I belong at a place like this?”
Hunter shrugs.
“Sure, why not? You’re young, you’re cute...” His eyes sweep over my figure appreciatively, like he’s sizing me up. His eyes meet mine for a moment as he gives me another smirk. He doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by the fact that he’s standing naked in the middle of somebody else’s kitchen, and I have to hand it to Hunter. He’s playing it cooler than I ever would have thought possible. “What’s not to like?” he asks, and there’s a headiness in his voice that makes my insides turn to mush. “So what do you do, Frankie?”
“I’m a student,” I reply, scratching my arm. “I’m at Berkeley for history - just finished my junior year. What about you?”
“I’m a business owner,” Hunter replies, not seeming to be aware of the effect that his voice, eyes, and body are all having on me.
“Yeah?” I raise my eyebrows, feeling just curious enough to test the waters. “What kind of business?”
He grins.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
I stammer for a moment, fumbling for a response, but then he laughs.
“I’m kidding. I own an online retail outfit - designer women’s shoes, believe it or not.”
“Wow,” I remark. “Are you from Granite Heights?”
“Originally,” he replies. When he sees my look of confusion, he elaborates. “Not since I was a kid though. I live in New York City now, and I’m back in town to visit my dad.”
“You don’t have to take time off for that?” I ask. Surprise must be written on my face because he laughs and shakes his head.