Second Chance for Romance

Chapter 14

My costume was so simple that I was dressed and downstairs long before Christy.

Wren had been right, we did have guests already. They were friends from Trip’s management class.

Leave it to Business majors to show up early for a meeting, I thought.

Their costumes were pretty basic (variations on corporate executive), but at least they’d tried. I introduced myself and offered to fix them drinks.

They’d brought a bottle of Bacardi, so we started with rum and Coke.

Trip came through from the kitchen. He greeted his friends in passing and continued toward the octagon room, where he started his first mix tape. The eerie sound effects from “Thriller” filled the house a moment later. Just like him, I thought. He knew the perfect music for every occasion. He returned to the dining room and I excused myself to answer the doorbell.

Freddie DeFeo and a couple of people from design class came in. He was dressed like a mob boss. The others were a cowboy, a ghost, and Tinker Bell (a mousy girl named Rosemary, who had a much nicer body than any of us had realized). I welcomed them to the party, told them the drinks and food were in the dining room, and sent them on their way.

I closed the front door and glanced toward the stairs. Christy stood on the landing. In the background Duran Duran’s “Hungry Like the Wolf” started with the woman’s laugh, and I had to suppress a smile at the timing. She grinned like the song had been cued for her.

She had rolled her wheat-gold hair and added a baby blue bow. Her Alice dress was shorter than I remembered from the store. The ruffled organza

petticoat ended at mid-thigh, and I could see several inches of skin between it and her over-the-knee stockings. They were white, with little blue bows at the top, and she definitely hadn’t bought them at the department store.

I slid my sunglasses down my nose and looked over them. “Wow. You look amazing.”

She blushed and lowered her eyes.

“And now I see what you meant about the shoes.”

“You like ’em?”

“They’re perfect. The stockings too. The dress. Your hair. Everything.

Perfect.”

Her blush deepened.

I pushed my sunglasses into place and held up a hand.

She descended the stairs and took it. She did a little turn when she reached the floor.

The doorbell rang.

“You’re kidding,” I griped. I smiled down at her. “Hold that thought.”

I opened the door.

“Is this the party?” a Wall Street wannabe asked.

“No, I normally dress like this.”

“Oh, right. So where are the hookers?”

I thought he was serious at first. Then I remembered my costume.

“You’re on your own with the ladies,” I said. “’Fraid you’ll have to get by on charm and good looks. Food and drinks are that way.” I ushered him and his friends inside. I started to close the door, but another group was walking up the sidewalk.

Christy materialized by my side. “You want me to fix you a drink?”

“Please. I might be here for a while.”

“What do you want?”

“Whatever you’re drinking.”

“Are you sure you can handle it?”

“Are you kidding? You’re a hundred pounds soaking wet. You said so yourself. If you can handle it, I can handle it.”

“Okay,” she said with a mischievous grin. “Just remember, you asked for it.”

I welcomed the newcomers, who were Wren’s friends from a communications class. We chatted for a moment about costumes and then I sent them toward the dining room.

Christy returned and handed me a cup.

I drank it without looking and immediately regretted it. “What is it?” I wheezed.

“Whiskey. You should probably go a little slower.”

“Thanks for warning me.”

She tried to look innocent, but I knew better. She was competitive, after all, just not to Wren’s level.

She hung out with me at the door, and we greeted a steady trickle of people for at least half an hour. Their costumes ranged from simple to elaborate, with everything in between.

I was about to close the door when I spotted someone I’d been waiting for.

Andy and Jamie turned up the walk, along with three guys I vaguely remembered from the graduation party.

“Hey, you made it!” I invited them in and introduced them to Christy.

Jamie held her at arm’s length and then spun her around. “Well, aren’t you precious.”

Trip must’ve had a crystal ball when he made the current mix tape—Bow Wow Wow’s “I Want Candy” had just started.

“I know a guy who’s tough but sweet,” Jamie sang along with a wink for me. “He’s so fine he can’t be beat.”

I simply rolled my eyes.

Christy’s expression glowed with amusement, especially when Jamie slipped his arm around her waist.

“Sorry,” he said without meaning it, “I’m gonna steal your girl.”

I laughed and shooed them away.

“He always does that,” Andy said. “Sorry.”

“No problem. But hey! Glad you guys could come. Let’s get you drinks and I’ll introduce you to Trip and Wren.” I leaned close. “They’re like us.”

“You really have to stop saying that.”

“Why? It’s true. Come on. You’ll see.”

The party was a smashing success, with about sixty people at its height.

Trip’s music and Wren’s food were both hits, of course, along with all the

fantastic costumes. Christy and Wren were voted into the final round in the contest. The others were a saloon girl whose cleavage was a winner by itself, a guy dressed like a baseball card, a girl mummy with Playmate curves, and a guy who looked like he’d stolen Boba Fett’s outfit from the set of the movie.

Christy won the prize for best fairy tale costume, and the mummy girl won for best horror costume (as well as best wet dream inspiration). The baseball card guy was the hands-down favorite for most creative costume.

Boba Fett was the grand winner. He had the helmet, armor, backpack, and everything. His costume was so good that even the diehard mummy and saloon girl fans cheered for him to win.

People started leaving after the contest, although the last of them stuck around till Trip killed the music at three o’clock. We called a couple of taxis to haul them away. They didn’t have to go home, we said, but they couldn’t stay here.

“Leave the mess f’r in the mornin’,” Wren said.

Trip nodded through a yawn.

“Bed?”

“Bed,” he agreed. “An’ no hanky-panky. Swear t’ God, I’m too drunk t’

fuck.”

“We’ll jus’ see ’bout that.”

They headed upstairs together.

“I dunno ’bout you,” I said to Christy, “but I’m gonna sit my butt on the couch.”

“You have room for mine? It’s little.”

“Sure!” I patted the couch beside me.

She ignored it and sat in my lap instead. She rested her head on my chest.

“I’m really drunk.”

“I can tell.” I suddenly felt a lot more sober than I had the moment before.

“I had fun tonight.”

“Me too.” I put an arm around her out of reflex.

“Your friend Jamie is funny.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“But I think he’s… a little… you know.”

“A little what?”

“He really likes you.”

“I like him too.”

She chuckled like she had a secret. “But not like he likes you.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“Thought you’d say that. You’re so cool about stuff like that.”

“Stuff like what?”

“Sex stuff.” She giggled. “That’s such a fun word.”

“Sex? Yeah, it is.”

“No, it’s fun to say.

“Mmm hmm.”

“It feels good in your mouth.”

I decided to play along. “I know another word that feels good in your mouth.”

“What?”

“Nipple.”

“You’re so naughty.”

“No, think about it. It’s a fun word.”

“It kinda is.”

“And it feels good in your mouth.”

“Nipple.”

“See what I mean?”

“Mmm, nipple. That does feel good.”

“Told you. Wanna know another?”

“M’kay.”

“Clitoris.”

She laughed and swatted my chest. “Now you’re really being naughty.”

“Yeah, but it feels good in your mouth.”

“It does.”

“I like the way clitoris feels. Don’t you?”

“What? Clitoris?” She giggled again. “You tricked me.”

“I’d never do that.”

“Liar.” She yawned and squirmed into a more comfortable position. “My turn.”

“For what?”

“A naughty word.”

“Okay, go.”

“Penis.”

The penis in question filled with curiosity.

“Ooh, I can feel it.”

“What d’you mean?”

She grinned up at me, her eyelids heavy. “You’re jus’ trying to get me to say ‘erection.’ Well, it won’t work. Oops!”

“Speaking of which…” I shifted her to the left a bit.

“Had t’ move your eee-rection?”

“It’s a pest.”

“I don’ think so. I kinda like it. Better now?”

“Much.”

“Erection.” She said it normally, as if tasting the word.

“What about it?”

“I like how it feels in my mouth.”

My eyebrows shot up.

“It’s long and hard.”

“It sure is.”

“The word, I mean.”

“Not just the word.”

“Mmm. I noticed.”

We fell silent for a long time. Her breathing grew deeper and more regular.

“I’m really drunk,” she said softly.

“Mmm hmm.”

“Sleepy too.”

I patted her hip. “You wanna head upstairs?”

“Hmm? No. ’M fine right here. You’re warm and comfy.” She nuzzled my chest.

“Okay, then. Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams,” she said drowsily, “of penises.”

“And erections.”

“Mmm.” She sighed and fell asleep.

I turned off the lamp next to us. I couldn’t reach any of the others, but I didn’t really care. I had a warm and snuggly girl in my lap.

My erection wasn’t entirely happy with the situation, but that was too bad.

I was.