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“So,” she said, “how long have you wanted to fuck Taz?”
I choked, nearly spewing Darcy with my Thorny Mexican. I hadn’t said a word to her whatsoever about Taz.
“And don’t bother pretending that you don’t.”
“I haven't a clue as to how you reached that deduction, Darcy. I mean God, he’s practically as old as Slate.”
“Which would be how old?”
“Slate is thirty-three. Taz will turn twenty-nine in December.”
“My my, you seem to know enough about a guy you claim you don’t want to fuck.”
I rolled my eyes at her. It was damn tough keeping things from Darcy even though I really hadn’t been trying. There was simply not anything of consequence to tell her. At least I hadn’t thought there was until now.
It had really pissed me off that Taz had felt the need to flaunt his girlfriend in front of me, in particular when he had just told me several weeks back that there was no one.
Darcy was watching me now, waiting for me to spill.
What the hell? Maybe it would be beneficial to have her perspective on it. At least I knew that she wouldn’t make fun of me.
She knew I was a virgin; she didn’t pass judgment.
She listened quietly as I shared everything that had happened the weekend my mom got married, or I should say, everything that didn’t happen as far as Taz was concerned.
“So, he shows up at your house this evening with the chick that has that Morticia Adams hairdo going on, huh?”
I had to smile. Darcy was being supportive in her own way.
“Come on, Darcy, she was pretty in an exotic kind of way. I have nothing against her. I just don’t believe that he has anything other than a sexual relationship with her.”
“What makes you think that?”
“It’s just a feeling,” I said with a shrug. “I think he was window dressing tonight on my behalf. He probably is shooting me down because of that kiss I gave him, because he liked it.”
“Maybe so,” she replied, taking a sip of her drink through the straw. “All I know is that if I still had my hymen intact, he would be the man I would freaking give it to.”
“Hmm,” I said, sucking my drink down thoughtfully.
Two cocktails later a couple of college guys approached us to dance. Darcy and I always had a blast on the dance floor. We had a routine we occasionally did if we weren’t worried about impressing the guys we were dancing with. I waited for her signal.
The guy I was dancing with was totally consumed with his own good looks. I knew the type. It was a turnoff.
I could tell Darcy wasn’t impressed with her partner either. We were dancing to the classic 80’s tune, “Le Freak” which could drag out forever especially when dancing with a guy who didn’t do it for you.
I saw the signal. Darcy and I immediately left the guys and danced towards each other to the beat of Chic’s tune.
We danced provocatively against one another, allowing our hands to touch and glide along each other’s body. Our eyes locked and we gazed at each other seductively during the song, as we writhed to the quick beat of the music.
Out of my peripheral vision, I could see both dudes looking at one another in total confusion. They finally got the hint and walked off the dance floor as the song was winding down.
We returned to our table, laughing hysterically as we took our seats again having successfully scared off the guys.
“Works every time,” she laughed, sipping her drink.
A few moments later, our waiter set two fresh drinks down at our table, indicating they had been sent over by a couple at a table across the dance floor from us. Darcy and I both looked over to see a couple of lesbians blowing kisses over to us.
“Holy shit,” she said, smiling and waving back. “I hate when that happens.”
