“So what’s it like to kiss a woman?”
All conversation stopped and everyone stared at Moxie with expressions that ranged from amusement to stunned surprise.
Violet’s eyes twinkled as she played with her necklace idly. “Well, based on present company, I’ll assume that question is directed to me.”
Lady Dulce and Julian looked at each other and shrugged in unspoken agreement.
“Not so fast, darling,” Wil said, taking a drag from her Chesterfield. “I’m sure I’ve kissed a lot of women.”
Violet was struggling to stave off laughter. “And do you remember any of them? Or is this based on what people tell you the next day?”
“Ah, yes. Good point.” Wil took another sip of her drink and sat back again. “Go right ahead, then.”
“Kissing a woman is a lot like kissing a man, with the exception of a few fundamental improvements.”
“Like what?” Moxie took another sip of her drink.
“You don’t need to worry about being chafed by stubble.”
Wil licked the rim of her glass briefly. “Not from kissing her on the mouth, anyway.”
“You’re getting way ahead of yourself, toots.” Violet looked back at Moxie. “Women also have a certain softness.” Her gray eyes took on an intensity that made Moxie’s stomach flutter. “They tend toward more of a slow burn, while men are like dynamite. Once you light the fuse you have maybe ten seconds before they explode.”
“I take umbrage at that,” Julian said.
“Which part?” Wil asked. “The metaphor, or how long she gave you till detonation?”
“All of it,” he replied. “Some of us have a slow fuse.”
“That’s right, honey.” Lady Dulce patted his knee supportively.
Violet put up her hands in mock defense. “Now, now, boys. You can’t help the way you’re designed—with all your wares on the outside.” She gestured vaguely toward their laps.
“Very true,” Wil agreed. “It’s a bit like having a live grenade in your pants all the time.” She looked up to see D.B. approaching her. “And here comes my little bombardier now.”
“Wil, is that you?” He appraised her and stood with his mouth open in poorly feigned excitement.
She looked downcast for the first time all evening. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“How have you been? It’s been ages since we’ve caught up.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “If by caught up you mean fucked, then yes, it has been a while.”
He laughed a deep, forced-sounding guffaw, but when he saw that no one else was joining in, he immediately stopped. “Say, what are your plans for the rest of the night?”
“Plans?” Wil looked desperately to the other members of her party. “My plans for the night.”
Moxie tried to look earnest. “You did want to go home soon and apply that ointment the doctor gave you.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Violet added. “Before the blisters start to ooze.”
Wil smiled at their quick thinking. “And how have you been, Floyd? Has anything been red or inflamed?”
His face fell. “What?”
Wil lowered her voice to simulate discretion. “Does it burn at all when you pee?”
He looked stricken. “No. Are you saying—?”
“I thought the doctor told you that men don’t always show symptoms,” Moxie said, unable to stanch her curiosity regarding how far they might be able to take this charade.
Wil turned to the man and looked reassuring. “I’m sure you’re fine. You look plenty healthy.”
“Good night,” he spat hurriedly, darting out of the room. They could hear him not too far away shouting, “I need my hat and coat now !”
Wil seemed impressed by Moxie’s clever stratagem. She raised her glass in a toast. “Quoth the douchebag—”
“Nevermore,” they all answered happily in unison, clinking their glasses together.
*
4:05 a.m.
“Come on, tomato. We’re almost there,” Violet said as she managed to nudge her apartment door open without losing hold of Moxie, who was so incapacitated from drink that she couldn’t stand unassisted.
“Where are we?”
After Clitty darted inside, Violet closed the door behind them with her foot and made her way into the bedroom, her arm around Moxie’s waist. “We’re in my suite at the Algonquin.”
“Al…gone…what?”
“It’s a hotel, darling. I live here.”
“Is this a come-on?”
Violet struggled to prop her up so that she was seated on the edge of the bed. “And what would your husband say to that? What was his name? Pistachio?”
“I don’t have a husband,” Moxie said, seeming confused.
“Well, earlier you said you did.” Violet knelt to remove Moxie’s shoes.
“I think you’re mistaken.” She wiggled her liberated toes for a moment. “That feels so good. I love toes.”
“Yes, they’re the unsung heroes of our feet. Turn around, so I can get to your buttons.”
“I think you’re trying to undress me, Miss London.”
“ Trying being the operative word. You could actually help a little, you know.”
“I’m not a whore.”
Violet sighed. “Which is truly a pity, because I could easily run and get my checkbook.” She reached around Moxie and unbuttoned her blue evening gown down to the small of her back. She pulled the stitched fabric forward and Moxie’s arms slipped out, but she now sat on the rest of the dress from the waist down. “Hmm…Lie back for me, darling. This will only take a moment.”
“What about your slow burn?” She sagged back across the width of the bed.
Violet tugged the gown from under Moxie’s bottom, over her shapely legs, and then draped it neatly over a chair. When she turned back around, she froze at the sight of Moxie in her chemise, garters, and stockings. “Damn, damn, damn,” she mumbled. The most beautiful woman she’d ever met was lying across her bed in her underwear—very sexy silk, no less—but she was too drunk to actively participate in anything. As though this wasn’t cruel enough, Violet’s train left at 7:45 a.m. “Let’s get your head up on the pillow.”
“I can’t move.”
Violet lay down on the bed next to her. “You need some help?”
“Possibly.”
“Well, you don’t want to sleep lying across the bed sideways like this. Come on, just shift a little.” Violet moved over her to guide her up to the head of the bed.
Moxie wrapped her arms around Violet’s neck provocatively. “I like you.”
She smiled. “I like you too.”
“I had a really good time tonight. Really good. The best.”
“Remember that tomorrow when it feels like your head has turned inside out.”
“Thanks for showing me the town.”
“Thanks for coming.”
“Come here,” Moxie whispered.
Violet chuckled. “I am here.”
“No, closer. I have something to tell you.”
Violet moved her face within inches of Moxie’s, and Moxie unexpectedly kissed her. It was slow, deep, and passionate, and Violet enthusiastically kissed her back. The eroticism of Moxie’s movements against her, coupled with the sweet taste of her mouth and the feel of her tongue, was driving Violet mad with hunger.
Abruptly, Moxie pulled away. “You’re right. That was much better than kissing a man.”
“Uh…you need to do any more research on that?”
“I feel funny.”
“So do I,” Violet said, throbbing with unrealized desire.
“Is the bed spinning?”
“No. But let’s get your head on the pillow.” She grabbed Moxie and shifted her so that she was lying lengthwise on the bed. Then she kissed her forehead softly before she stood up.
“Don’t leave me,” Moxie murmured with her eyes closed.
“You’ve got me for a few more hours, doll.”
Chapter Two
When Moxie finally awoke, she was racked with a throbbing headache, cottonmouth, nausea, and a generous amount of confusion.
“What the hell?” She looked around and saw this was definitely not her apartment. She was in a large, rumpled bed. A closer inspection revealed that she was in her underwear. She slowly sat up. This room did not look familiar at all, and she didn’t detect another sound from the next room. “Hello?”
No one replied.
She struggled to her feet and saw that last night’s clothes were folded neatly on a chair by the window. As much as she wanted to be dressed again, the bright sunlight through the window currently repulsed her. She mulled on the most painless way to get to the garments, finally settling on turning her head, closing her eyes, and flailing her arms wildly at the drapes to force them closed and shut out the light.
When she was satisfied that a fair amount of sun was blocked, she grabbed her clothes and headed back to the bed. Resting on top of her rolled stockings was a sealed envelope with her name written in flamboyant cursive.
For some reason, the handwriting instantly made her think of Violet, and snippets of the previous evening flooded her brain in no particular order. She sat on the edge of the bed, laid her clothing down, and ran her finger under the flap of the envelope.
Moxie,
I hope you are neither too terribly hungover nor filled with drinker’s remorse. Sadly, I had to make my train this morning, so I wasn’t able to wait for you to wake up. I very much wished we could have had breakfast together.
There’s no hurry on when you need to leave. The apartment’s paid up through the end of the day. Stay as long as you’d like. I’ve left a couple dollars for you to get a cup of coffee, a bite to eat, and a cab ride back to your place.
Just so you know, last night was one of the most amazing evenings I’ve had in quite some time, and I’d give anything to kiss you again.
It’s my dumb luck that after six years in this goddamned city, I’d meet you on my last night in town. You are an astoundingly beautiful and sexy woman.
I’ll write you from the train.
—Violet
Moxie dropped the letter in shock and watched it slowly drift to the floor.
“Holy snappin’ assholes!”
*
On the train to Chicago, Violet was utterly distracted. It seemed that nothing could take her mind off the festivities of the previous evening and a certain fair-haired singer who spent the night in her bed.
She sighed and looked out the window as Clitty twitched in his sleep in the seat beside her. Though she was exhausted, every time she closed her eyes, she imagined that kiss again. The memory of it made her stomach drop like she was on a ride at Coney Island.
Naturally Moxie would kiss her like that and then pass out. It was just her luck. Overcome with sexual frustration, she had gently removed Moxie’s stockings and garter belt, though she might have taken her time, lingered a bit. She fought off a grin at the thought.
She had curled up next to Moxie for a couple hours of sleep, and the feel of her body had been arousing, yet blissful.
“She’s a mystery, Clitty.”
The terrier continued to dream, his paws jerking unconsciously and his breathing ragged.
“No, don’t try and talk me out of it,” Violet said. “I know you think I can’t get serious with anyone, but this jane’s different. She sings in that provocative voice and then smiles at me like she’s an ingénue. She goes out of her way to tell me she’s not interested by making up a husband and then hits me with that sockdollager of a kiss.”
She picked up the business card for the thirtieth time and started flipping it over in her hands. On one side it read Cotton G. McCann, Professional Entertainment Agent, Twelve Years Experience. On the other side, Moxie had written her address and a phone number. GRamercy 5-9881.
“Well, Clitty, she’s not heard the last of us.”
*
Moxie tried to open the apartment door as quietly as she could, in hopes that Irene was distracted and she could slip in unnoticed. She peeked around the edge of the door and saw her roommate sitting on the sofa holding a book and now staring at her.
“Jeepers, Moxie. Where have you been all night?”
She sighed in resignation and entered the room fully, shutting the door behind her. “Hey, Irene.”
“You look terrible.”
“I guess that stands to reason. I feel terrible.” She sat next to Irene on the couch forlornly.
“What happened? Were you hit by a freight train?”
Moxie rubbed her forehead with her hand. “I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean? You can’t remember?”
“I remember some of it,” she said, feeling defensive.
Irene eagerly curled her legs up under her on the sofa and got comfortable. “Well, start at the beginning and I bet it’ll all come back to you.”
“A group of people were in the club—a couple of Broadway actresses and their friend—and they invited me out for drinks with them.”
“And you went? But you don’t drink.” The volume of her voice rose shrilly.
“Shh,” Moxie hissed, putting her finger to her mouth and wincing.
“Oh, you went.” Irene rolled her eyes. “You definitely went. Who were the actresses?”
“Violet London and Wil Skoog.”
“Never heard of them. What are they in?”
Moxie squinted as she tried to remember the name of the play. “Um… Scandals and Lies. ”
It was apparent from Irene’s expression that she was not familiar with it. “So where did you go?”
“A thousand places, it seemed. We drank champagne at the Luna. We had absinthe at some speakeasy, where Violet and Wil got into a fight with a lady critic. Then we took a cab to some place in Harlem called a buffet flat, where I drank sidecars, sang with a man in a dress, taunted a douchebag, and watched a fella smoke cigars with his ass.”
Irene seemed stricken mute for a moment, and her mouth hung open. “Wait, you’re saying there’s more that you can’t remember? Those are just some random highlights?”
Moxie considered exactly how she wanted to say this. “I think I slept with Violet.” Irene sat agog and blinked, but said nothing, her face unreadable. When at least a minute of silence passed, Moxie felt compelled to say something else. “Are you okay?”
“You slept with a woman?”
“Maybe?” she replied timidly.
“You aren’t certain?”
“I don’t remember doing anything with her—well, besides dancing.”
Irene appeared confused. “So what makes you think anything else happened?”
“Waking up undressed in her bed, with this note.”
Irene took the paper and read it, her lips moving ever so slightly. When she reached the part about the kiss, her eyes opened as big as dinner plates—titillated dinner plates—and her hand flew over her mouth. “Hotchy botchy!” She looked back at Moxie as though she had just suddenly remembered she was there. “Oh, sorry. What’s the last thing you remember?”
Moxie closed her eyes to think. “Taking a taxi with Violet after the others all left to go home.”
“Did you have clothes on in the taxi?”
“Of course I did. What kind of question is that?”
“I’m trying to piece it together deductively, like Nancy Drew would. So you remember being dressed in a cab with this Violet woman.”
“Yes.”
“Was she dressed too?”
“Yes.”
“Was her tongue in your mouth?”
Moxie scowled. “No.” A glimpse of her wrapping her arms around Violet’s neck and beckoning her to come closer flickered into her mind, then disappeared again. Had that actually happened? Or had she dreamed it? “Well, not in the taxi.”
“But it did happen somewhere?”
“Um…I’m not s
ure. It seems like I kissed her. We were on the bed, I think.”
Irene’s eyebrows arched and she fanned herself with the letter. “My goodness. So, how was it?”
Moxie shook her head and ran her hands through her hair. “Considering how blotto I was, I’m figuring it was horrible for her. No wonder she got on that train without even trying to wake me.”
Irene cleared her throat. “I meant how it was for you. What was it like?”
“Oh.” Moxie stopped to consider that question.
“As in, if you hadn’t been lit, do you think that you would’ve…you know…done it? If you saw her again, what would happen?”
“Are you asking me if I’m a lesbian?”
Irene tried unsuccessfully to look nonchalant. “Nancy Drew would recommend that we stick to the known facts.”
Moxie sank into the back of sofa, dejected. “Besides, she left this morning for Hollywood. I’ll probably never see her again.”
“Hollywood? As in, to make movies?”
“Yes.” Moxie wished her mouth didn’t taste like wallpaper paste. She pondered why that might be and if she had performed some sordid sex act that had that effect.
“You got nookie from a movie star?” Irene’s face lit up.
Moxie was confounded. “Does that change something?”
“You bet your Sapphic ass it does. Now we know a star.”
“We?”
“Sure. I mean, why shouldn’t something good come of last night?”
“And what good are you referring to?”
“Well, everyone in the city says you need to know someone to get a break. Now we do.”
Moxie massaged her temples in pain and frustration. “Irene, I need a bath and some time for my head to stop pounding. It would be nice in the meantime if you could stop plotting how to turn my drunken night of lesbian sex with a stranger to your advantage.”
“Sorry.”
“I doubt Nancy Drew would do that.”
“Like in The Midnight Muff Caper ?”
Moxie groaned and reclined slowly into the sofa cushions. “Remind me to sock you in the jaw when I’m feeling better.”
Seduction of Moxie Page 5