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19
Oh, I Don’t Know About That
Everyone was drunk, but that wasn’t unusual. Work hard; play hard. That was our motto. Neal hung from the railing of the mezzanine floor in his and Jody’s flat. Throwing out marshmallows to whomever had their mouth open. It was like one of those stalls at the Easter Show, where you throw ping pong balls into the gaping maw of a clown’s head as it slowly rocks from side to side.
I’d always been afraid of those clowns as a kid.
“Come on, Kylee!” Neal shouted. “Your turn.”
“I’m not sure this is sanitary,” I pointed out.
“I only licked my fingers,” he shouted. “I didn’t scratch my arse.”
“Lovely,” I muttered.
“Nobody throws my wife marshmallows but me!” Sean yelled, pushing Neal aside, almost making him tumble over the banister, and grabbing the bag of marshmallows. “Come on, baby. Give me that mouth!”
Jody giggled beside me. “You two are so cute,” she said. I shook my head.
“Open wide, Ky,” Sean said.
I held his gaze and opened my mouth. He looked right at me, into me, as he threw the marshmallow. I caught it on the first attempt.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Sean yelled and pumped his fist in the air. “My wife has an amazing level of skill with her mouth.”
“Must be good to be you,” Neal offered.
“In every way,” Sean said and smiled.
* * *
He slung his arm around my shoulder as we walked home. He seemed a little unsteady on his feet and kept giggling.
“Good night,” he said with a slur.
“Yeah. Did you see how much gin Neal put in the punch?”
“I know, right? The guy is lethal. Good people,” he added. “Good people.”
“They are,” I agreed.
Sean stopped walking by the small pedestrian bridge on Beach Road. He wrapped his arms around me and pushed me back against the railing. “You know,” he said, kissing along my jaw. “There’s still at least half a kilometre to go before we get home.”
“You’re the one who said not to call a taxi,” I pointed out.
He waved my concern away with a lazy hand and then brought it down to cup my cheek. “Talking about mouths,” he said. I blinked.
“Mouths?”
“Yeah, you know, how good yours is?”
“Oh.”
“It’s late,” he said, rubbing his nose against my jaw. “No one’s about. There’s a perfectly good tree just there. Lots of foliage to hide behind. How about you demonstrate how good you are with that mouth?”
“Don’t be silly,” I said, pushing against his chest. “It’s the middle of the night, and we’re out in the open.”
“Won’t take long, I promise.” He pushed his erection against my thigh. “Watching you catch that marshmallow was a turn on.”
