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“Sorry, mojitos have that effect on me,” I say. To cover my nervousness, I finger the rim of my empty glass.
“You look like a fruity-drink kind of girl,” she says before sliding the other glass with the umbrella straw in it toward me. The drink is a purple-and-red concoction with a nifty umbrella straw. “It’s an Island Goddess.” I take the glass apprehensively, swirling the straw around and making the ice clink. “Don’t worry, it won’t knock you on your ass; just give you a good buzz.”
“I’m already there, I think,” I reply before setting down the glass and then sliding it back to her.
Milani shrugs, then takes the glass off the table before taking a deep drink from the rim. She leaves her mark with plum lipstick before setting it back on the table. My eyes fall on the glass where her lips had been. A tinge of jealousy pains me for a moment.
“Why aren’t you out on the scene?” Milani asks.
“What?” She caught me while I was in my thoughts.
“I would think you would be dancing the night away.”
/> “That’s not really my style,” I say.
Whether it is the alcohol in my system or merely wanting to touch where her lips had been, I take the glass between my lips and drink deep. The fruity liquid burns going down, leaving me in a fuzzy illusion.
“What is your style?” Milani asks. She brings her own glass to her lips. “Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome you were talking to earlier?”
“Maybe,” I say coyly.
“You didn’t look like the type that kisses girls.” She places her drink on the table and begins to rise.
“That’s not what my ex-girlfriend said.” I don’t really know where that came from but it felt like the diva thing to say. It’s enough to get her attention because Milani sits back down.
“What else did your ex-girlfriend say?” She leans forward in her chair, rocking on the back legs.
Her anticipation makes me want to giggle but the diva in me reforms it into a smile.
“You remind me of her.” I relax in my chair, uncrossing my legs. “You both are so cool, so confident, like you can have any woman in the room.” I wave a manicured hand to the wind. Then send out a grateful thought to the manicurist for keeping the nails short.
“So, why aren’t you two together?” she asks.
Milani rights her chair and waves over a waiter. She quickly finishes her drink and places it on his tray. They seem to know each because the waiter gives Milani a knowing wink before walking away.
“Would you like another?” Milani points to the purple drink I have yet to finish. As she speaks, I take in her swan-like neck, down to her collarbone.
“No, I’m fine,” I say. She snaps me back to reality. Suddenly, she rises from her seat. “Where are you going?”
“Let’s go somewhere.” Milani extends her hand to me.
“Where?”
“I don’t know; just out of here.” Milani picks up the purple drink off of the table.
“We, we could go to my room,” I say. I would say anything to keep her standing next to me. “I have a great view of the beach from my balcony.”
“I know.” She smiles, displaying a row of perfectly white teeth. “You’re in four-thirty-two, right?”
I nod and reach out to take her hand. When I try to rise, I stumble over my heels. She catches me around the waist with a firm hand. I take it and again realize how small I am; even in stilettos.
Still holding me tight, Milani pushes open the glass doors back into the busy bar. A lesser woman would have fallen to her knees and worshipped the ground Milani’s thong sandals tread upon. Not me, not yet. I glance around the bar, taking in the few of the stares, some in shock, some in wonder, and it makes me want to fade away. In my other relationships, I barely held my girlfriend’s hands, let alone walked arm in arm in public, so I stand proudly beside her. At least for now, I’m not that shy woman.
We exit the bar and stop in front of the elevator doors. After she presses the button, her arms come full circle around my waist, drawing me into the cushion of her breasts. All I would have to do is turn my head forward and I could bury my face there. My hands fall around her hips and slide up the small of her back, to glide along her tank top. When I reach where her bra closure should be, I find bare space.
“It opens in front.” Milani’s sultry voice melts like warm caramel from her lips to my ear. The elevator dings open. Milani untangles us before guiding me onto the elevator. As the doors close, Milani takes a drink from my glass.
“Are we allowed to take those away from the bar?” I ask. I hadn’t realized she had taken it. She leans against the wall, taking me with her.
