AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Remy tracked her to the corridor where the toilets were situated. The man waited outside while she did the deed. The bra whipped off and stuffed into her clutch purse. She struggled to shut the clasp. With teeth gritted, she squeezed hard until she heard the clasp close. About her, other dancers jostled, peering at the mirrors, checking their mascara or lipstick. The restroom stank of cigarette smoke. She dug out her own lipstick and re-applied the sheen to her puckered lips. With her breasts free of constricting attire, she re-entered the dance arena in a happier state.
Gemma dropped her purse back on the table by Jason and strode onto the dance floor. Her short top, loose and baggy, allowed her breasts to bounce about freely. The air was deliciously cool now she had dealt with the unwanted bra. She realised the henna was showing slightly, a few curls of the tattoo peeped out as her bosom moved unhindered. A new track started to play. Glancing over to where her husband held court, she saw his distinctive frown. The dreaded finger wave happened. She strolled over and slouched into the chair. She stared at her long fingernails glittering under the flashing lights and not his blazing blue eyes.
She felt his lips touch her earlobe. “Where is your bra, Gemma?”
She pointed to the bulging clutch purse on the table.
“Why?” he asked.
Gemma stuck her head close to his. “Hurting. A new bra and a bad fit. All sweaty and horrible.”
“How unfortunate. You didn’t have my permission to take it off, and now you can go and put it back on.”
The finger flicked her thigh. A shot across the bow kind of flick. She couldn’t help the pout; it formed spontaneously. She held off moving while assimilating his request. She did not want to wear the bra.
“Now, or we go back to Sublime. It’s past midnight. I assume you want to stay for another hour or so.” An icy cold voice, one she could not ignore. It ate into her, making her toes curl with both delight and annoyance. Unfortunately for her, the latter sentiment held sway.
Gemma transformed into a petulant schoolgirl. Grabbing the purse, she stomped off in a huff back to the bathroom with a puzzled Remy in tow again. Her brain fused into a state of annoyance. She had been in a good mood earlier leav
ing the restaurant.
Her agreeable mood deflated rapidly. Coming back from the bathroom, she tossed her purse down, ignoring him, and headed straight for the dance floor. Unable to contain her stroppy side, she made her mind up—she danced for herself now.
Why could he not trust her? She wasn’t going to flash her boobs at anyone. Already, she had returned to her state of discomfort and itchiness. Licking her lips, she had to rectify the dryness in her mouth. Heading for the bar, she ordered a drink and added it to his tab. She perched on a bar stool and waited for the waiter to bring her a tall gin and tonic with lots of ice to suck on. Another woman came and sat next to Gemma. A bleached blonde woman with a pale face, not the skin colour Gemma expected of a local. Another tourist, perhaps.
She spoke using the local language, and Gemma shook her head to indicate her lack of comprehension.
“English?” asked the blonde.
“Yes.”
“You’re American?” A thick accent with a familiar twang.
“Oh, no. British. On holiday. You?”
“Student. I’m German. Where are your friends?” she asked, peeping behind Gemma.
Gemma relaxed and welcomed the opportunity to chat to somebody of her own age and gender. However, she couldn’t shift the sulkiness she felt towards Jason. The words spewed out of her mouth impulsively.
“Alone. I like to dance. My friends don’t, so they stayed away.” The lie came so easily.
She used to be good at lying, before she met Jason. Every attempt to lie to him failed dismally, disintegrating all her story-telling abilities in one piercing stare of his eyes. Ever since him, she hadn’t felt comfortable lying. He had certainly shredded her self-confidence when it came to fibbing.
“Sad. You should have friends when you dance. Dance with me?” she offered, cocking her head at the other dancers.
Gemma accepted gleefully and leapt to her feet. For the next half hour, she had a partner. It even took her mind off the irritating bra strap. They didn’t talk much. The loud music drowned out their voices, but Gemma had someone to smile at and show off her fancy footwork. Her nimbleness impressed the stranger. The tattoos certainly caught her eye, too. Gemma showed her the detailed pattern on the back of her hands.
“Pretty. Drink?”
She nodded in agreement as her thirst had returned with vengeance.
“What would you like?” The blonde propped her handbag on the bar.
Gemma hadn’t noticed the small bag strapped over her shoulders. The offer saved Gemma the embarrassment of explaining why she had a tab. She had no cash on her. Why would she, when Jason paid for everything?
“Orange juice please.”
The blonde raised an eyebrow, pointing at the rows of bottles.
