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We takea car to the dock. It’s a bit of a walk to the embarkation point and we see the other participants for tonight’s festivities. They’re all very pretty, and they’re all wearing very little clothes.Easy off, I supposed.Then again, Laura and I reprised our dresses from the night we first met, so it’s not like we’re wearing a lot. And that feels … right. David is dressed in his jeans and a simple dark grey t-shirt. He’s walking behind us, while we’re holding hands.The man is so reserved.I lean over and whisper to Laura my new nefarious plan, and she nods and flashes me a smile. We break our hand hold and before David can say anything, he has a woman in each hand.Let’s see him be reserved making this entrance!
We get to the host table, where the volunteers check us in and issue a wristband for drinks. The woman who checks us in is somehow tinier than Laura. She is just as cute, however, and her gaze undresses me.This is going to be a fun night. She informs us that her partner is the DJ for the night, so she’ll be dancing with us. This is going to be a very fun night. Laura and I quickly agree with her, and David pretends like he doesn’t get a vote.
We walk on the boat – it’s still light out, and we’re informed that as long as we’re on top deck, we have to keep our clothes on. Below, in the interior room, the DJ is spinning his tracks, and clothes can be reduced to panties and pasties. We grab a drink at the bar and park ourselves on the top deck to watch the sunset, with Laura and I occupying each of David’s knees while holding hands. Another couple joins our table, a beautiful black man and woman. She has the skin of a twenty-year-old, but she says she’s fifty. The wrinkles around her eyes betray her a little, but not much else. I can only hope that I age as well as she has.
We start chatting at the table. We talk about experiences and our particular interests and what we like. She absorbs every word I say, as if I’m a well of inspiration and truth. It’s flattering.I can’t deny it.But I’m also a bit nervous.What if I’m giving her poor information? What do I know?Halfway through the conversation, the pixie volunteer girl joins our merry group. And as we start passing the famous Chicago bridges, the sun sets completely, and we all make our way below.
The pixie girl spends most of her time bouncing between dancing with us and paying attention to her DJ partner. She keeps grazing Laura’s skin and positively squeals touching my skin. As well as when she is touched. This goes on for a seemingly indeterminable amount of time. I’m in a haze, I can tell Laura is in the same haze. We’re just being.David knows how long, he always does.A few minutes before the announcement, he gets our attention to put clothes back on. The party is almost over. Pixie girl invites us to the after-party.The night is young!
And so, we take a car over the club which just happened to be in the neighborhood of David’s house. Well, unsurprisingly it turned into a sex party. People mingled at the bar and on the dance floor downstairs, but upstairs there was a private area full of mattresses with white canopies between them. Now, they do change the sheets, but I still like getting in early when the first sheets are still fresh. David,being David, found a private alcove behind one of the mattress setups, so we slipped out of our clothes there.
The pixie girl joined us. I thought she was going to be all sweet and submissive— and then she pulls out a duffel bag full of dildos, vibrators, and a strap-on.How old is she? She cannot have been more than twenty. I think she said she was twenty-five, but I was suspicious.She slips it on and pushes me down onto the mattress, oblivious of everyone around me including Laura and David. She was especially disinterested in him; I think she may not have been very keen on men. I didn’t get a chance to ask her, though. I was … busy.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Laura riding on top of David, and I could feel … her. And me. And Pixie girl. I could feel everyone. And I can feel that he knows it. He grabs Laura by her curls, leaned over to her ear and whispers something. And she climaxes. He whispers it again. She shakes again. He whispers again, and she shakes again. This time, he looks up straight at me, with his mouth still near her ear, and I see him mouth the word he has been whispering to her at me.He knows what that word will do to me. He is counting on what it will do to me.I can feel Laura starting to shake uncontrollably again, and this time, I join her.
The restof the night is a haze again. I awake late the next morning in David’s bed wrapped up with Laura. She is snoring adorably.So, this is what he means when he says I snore adorably.I can hear him out in the kitchen making coffee.
What an incredible evening. I’m still hazy on what exactly happened.Thank you for the gift … Sir?
* * *
13
Kitten Finds a Friend
Idon’t care for many terms of endearment. I’ve never been a “honey” or a “sweetheart” kind of girl. I enjoy calling girlfriends such term of endearment. I smile when I hear someone call the person next to them, “darling.” But not all women wish to hear those words, and I do wish, most days, that we operated less by the Golden Rule and more by its cousin rule, “Treat others not as you wish to be treated, but as they want to be treated.”
* * *
June 23, 5:00pm
Huh. He called me “kitten.”I think it’s when he caught me napping on yet another couch in the house. Or when I pushed him off the bed. Also, my phone. These things happen. Also, I like to nap.
Some women like to be called “princess,” some don’t. I don’t like “princess,” or “sweetie,” “honey,” or any of that. It sounds sweet with other girls. It feels weird applied to me. Despite my perhaps overly effeminate appearance, skirts, dresses, my fondness for high tea parties with cucumber sandwiches and exquisitely frosted mini cupcakes. I can be feminine, but still not want to be called “baby.” It’s possible. Anything is possible. Past boyfriends have wondered why I don’t want the same things as their ex-girlfriends. “But every one of my exes liked [insert random item]!” Fine, but I’m not your ex, am I?
Kitten suits me. It captures my persona. I sprawl out in the sunlight. I bat at shiny items, such as a bunch of keys, tantalizing dangled in front of me. It took ages to come up with something that brings a smile to my lips, but the obvious answer was there all along. It didn’t come from him, directly, either, but that’s another story.
I am a Kitten. I want to curl up, sometimes in a literal, but often a metaphorical sense, and be the calming, healing presence the other person needs. I’m not a Kitten for him. I’m simply his Kitten. I am the friend who happily joins you on a last-minute trip, because you need company. I am the friend who listens to you when you need it, who helps you in tough times. I’ve experienced my share. And everyone needs a friend when the going gets rough.
Speaking of which, my old friend Tom called me the other day. He and I dated briefly before I left for Thailand. He heard I was back in town and wanted to get together.I should call him back.
“Welcome to your flight to Las Vegas, Nevada. Group 1, you’re welcome to board,” I hear the announcement.
* * *
June 27, 9:00pm
Well,that was lovely. I realized how much I missed my old friends. How long it’s been since I’ve seen them. High school, for some. Tom had invited a few others along. Most I’d seen when we all got together for Burning Man just before I left for the Peace Corps. But I haven’t seen them since, as I’d gone straight to Chicago to look for work.
I still kicked everyone’s butt playing pool and darts. I’d apparently gotten a lot more experience than the others. Experiencedoescount for something. Age and years don’t mean much without it. Of course, they have other talents and expertise that aren’t bar games, but, come on, we all know what’sreallyimportant.Clearly, I have superior life skills. That’s what I say to myself as I sink the eight ball and ignore the fact that I haven’t filed my taxes yet.Taxes suck. I bet even my accountant friend thinks the same.
I did make the mistake of allowing him to kiss me. I might have gotten a bit tipsy when we got late night sushi.Sake hits hard, doesn’t it?I was sure I was fine until I stood up and the floor spun beneath my feet. Oops. As I moved to open the car door, he leaned over and kissed me. It took me a moment to even know what was happening.Ugh. I have enough romance in my life right now. I don’t need this complication with my friend. Oh, well, too late now.
Plus, it was a little nice. I mean, it felt good.Stupid brain chemicals. Stop interfering with my life already. I need to be steady and responsible. Yep, yep, starting tomorrow when I wake up.
Also, I think he may have designs on marrying me. He’s pretty square, so it’s not like I can tell him about all the special friends I have in my life. I suppose it’s easier for people see you for who they want you to be to them.
* * *
