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“A game thing with Jason and Gemma,” Audrey announced.
I had to control my nerves; shaky hands would be counterproductive.
“Sssh!” commanded Jason from behind me. “Give her space and a chance to concentrate.”
Armed with the blindfold, he plunged me into darkness.
The room went quiet, and I couldn’t move. My feet locked to the floor, and my hands, gripping the chair before me, refused to let go. How foolish did I look? Blindfolded and probably about to smash my in-laws’ best glassware. Breathe. I inhaled and centred my thoughts not on the gathering, but the man next to me. He wanted me to do this, prove something to his parents, and it was my job to fulfil his wishes.
I slid my hands down the side of the chair and blocked out the invisible audience. I could do this. I’d done it countless times, sometimes for Jason, other times at parties long before I’d met my husband. I reached out to the pile of cutlery in the centre of the table and picked up the first knife.
Systematic, I used the span of my hand to measure the distance between the place mats, my thumb for the distance between cutlery and the place mat and finally the glassware, which proved tricky to find in the middle of the table without smashing my hand into them. I relied on the tips of my fingers to locate each one in turn. I must touch only the base of the glasses—Jason would frown upon fingerprints left on the stem.
“Done.” I stepped back and, for a few seconds, silence greeted me, then a round of applause broke out, and I whipped off the blindfold, blinking in the evening light flooding through the window.
“Wow, Gemma, impressive,” congratulated Rebecca. She gave me a slightly unnerving wink, too.
Jason walked around the table, examining each setting. I handed the blindfold back to him, and he enveloped me in his embrace, kissing my neck.
“Good girl,” he whispered, and I snuggled closer to him, pleased by his compliment. “However, eight errors.”
“Eight!” I exclaimed. His grip tightened, reminding me to keep my voice low. I stared at the table. I’d not lined up the wine glasses very well.
“Don’t worry. I said no penalties here, but once we’re home, I’ll be able to deal with the matter, won’t I?”
The familiar buzz of energy erupted in my belly. I had a long wait to the next day.
The meal was delicious, and Jason gave two small toasts after the dessert course.
“To Dad, have a great retirement!” he announced, and we clinked our glasses together. “And not forgetting my little sister, Louise, who we should congratulate on her baby news and her recent engagement to Ben, not quite the right order of events! We wish them well.”
After the toasts, the imbibed alcohol began to loosen everyone’s tongues, and conversations took off into taboo areas.
“Do you do other party tricks?” asked Gillian, my dining neighbour. She held her knife poised over the cheese board.
“Um. Well, yes, but not repeatable in polite company,” I replied.
“Go on whisper them,” said Louise, leaning forward across the table. “Dad can’t hear. He’s busy talking to Anthony.”
Next to me, Jason was locked in debate with Michael, seemly unaware of Gillian’s question. I racked my mind, trying to think of something suitably kinky without delving into forbidden territory: Jason was strict about what I could discuss with his vanilla family. “Fondues.”
“Sorry? I don’t get it,” said Gillian.
“You know. Dipping things in chocolate, fruit and things like that.” I lowered my voice and hid my mouth behind a napkin.
“What d
o you do?” asked Louise, as she held up a piece of cheese.
I slid the napkin down my chin, uncovering my lips. “I’m the receptacle for the chocolate.” My face ignited with heat, and the napkin shot up again.
Louise and Gillian burst into a duet of laughter. “You get smeared in chocolate. Wow, Gemma. Doesn’t it tickle?” Gillian giggled.
I started to regret my choice of party game. Perhaps not innocuous enough. I wiped my brow with the serviette, crushing the fabric tight in my fingers. “Yes. That’s the fun part. Keeping still. I’m not allowed to wriggle.”
Gillian leaned over, nudging my shoulder. “Do you get rewarded for being still?”
“Jason licks me clean,” I whispered. My imagination had sent me to a place of both embarrassment and culinary, erotic delight. Couldn’t somebody open a window? I sweltered under the gaze of my sisters-in-law.
