by Hazel Parker
“Folks,” the MC calls into the mic, “come join our bride and groom to dance one last dance before they exit.”
Whitney grabs Audrey’s hand before she can run away. Chris takes Whitney’s other hand and guides his bride with Audrey in tow to the center of the dance floor.
“Whitney!” Audrey yells to be heard over the band.
“Everybody! This is the last dance,” the MC repeats as the band covers Donna Summer’s timeless disco song Last Dance.
Pierce dances his away across the floor towards Audrey. Against her will, she laughs. She finds his surprisingly good dance moves charming. Whitney releases Audrey’s hand and nudges her in Pierce’s direction. Chris leans over to Pierce and whispers something in his ear. Then the two shake each other’s hand and nod in approval at each other. Chris then takes his bride’s hands and leads her to the center of the circle where they dance surrounded by their loved ones.
“Chris tells me you just got back from China.” Pierce dances and shouts to be heard over the band in Audrey’s direction. She smells the Tennessee bourbon on his breath. He takes her hands and they dance together with room between them. No bumping and grinding tonight. Not if she can help it.
Pierce’s scent takes her back to the college dance floor where they basically made out. Her memory is slowly coming back to her. She’s not a blackout drunk. Something embarrassing must’ve happened. Maybe she vomited on him? No. She remembers Whitney pulling her away from Pierce. Maybe his hands were up her dress? No. She remembers his hands around her waist and in her hair. What happened?
“Audrey?” Pierce laughs and twirls her out and then back into his arms.
“Huh? Sorry. I was…”
“Spacing out?”
“Uh-huh.” She can’t think around him. She feels dizzy from his masculine scent and smooth hands touching her waist, her back, and her arms. She wants to take him back to her hotel room. She wants him to touch her everywhere. She also wants him to ask her out on a date. A proper date. Dinner. Dancing. Movies. She wants to be wined and dined. She wants romance. Red roses. Champagne on a yacht. Helicopter rides over Honolulu.
“Come on!” Pierce takes her hand and leads her off the dance floor.
“Where are we going?”
“To see the bride and groom off. The song’s ending.”
Suddenly, Audrey hears the MC’s announcement for guests to line up at the exit of the spacious white tent. She notices friends and family members forming two long lines facing each other on both sides of the exit.
“Folks, let’s line up to send this couple off!”
Audrey wonders why is that when she’s around Pierce, the whole world fades to the background. She hears only his voice. Feels only his hands. Smells only his scent.
She allows Pierce to guide her to a line beside her best friends: Sasha, Arabella, and Nora. They exchange knowing glances with Sasha, but they don’t say anything. She pleads with them with her eyes to be quiet. Still holding her hand, Pierce raises his other hand and cheers the bride and groom.
Seeing her good friend Whitney with her college crush Chris dancing down the aisle, high-fiving guests on both sides, and laughing in utter joy, Audrey can’t help but imagine herself walking down that aisle in that white satin dress with...Pierce. She sees him in his tuxedo, holding her hand, kissing her cheek, telling her how much he loves her.
“I love you!” Audrey calls to Whitney as she dances by. Whitney yells it back over her shoulder as she dances by.
Audrey feels her previous wallowing lifting and suddenly she has so many plans for her future. She has happy plans of passionate dating, a spectacular proposal, and an unforgettable wedding. Where they would date, how they would live, what their jobs would be, and how they would not fall to divorce like so many others, is not something she wants to contemplate right now. She wants to dwell on the possibility. She wants to dwell on the romance. The love.
Pierce presses his hip against Audrey’s and gently bumps her. She laughs and bumps him back. Intoxicated from the happiness of Whitney and Chris and her happily-ever-after daydreams, Audrey allows herself to be attracted to Pierce at this moment amidst the cheering and dancing wedding guests sending off the contagiously happy newlyweds.
Watching her freshman college roommate disappear out of the tent and into a white Rolls Royce brought a mixture of feelings within Audrey: happiness, sadness, and envy. She hates that the ugly feeling of envy would arise in this momentous occasion for her dear friend. She wants to rid herself of the feeling immediately. She needs cake. Turning around and scanning the tables for a leftover slice of cake, Audrey finds none and frowns.
“What’s up?” Pierce asked as he nods for her to follow the crowd to the exit to wave goodbye to the newlyweds as they drive off.
“I didn’t get any cake,” Audrey temporized while looking for a spare slice of chocolate or vanilla cake.
“Well, let’s go get you some cake.” Pierce holds Audrey’s hand with authority and guides her to the cake table near the long rectangular table previously occupied by the wedding party.
Having a man respond to her desire with immediate action and focus causes a tightness in her gut. She wonders if he would be this attentive to her other needs? If she were cold, would he give her his blazer? If she were tired, would he carry her to her room? She thinks about testing the limits of his chivalry. She wonders if it’s a bad sign that she immediately thinks to test his boundaries? Is this why she’s still single? Not because she’s a virgin, but because she finds the need to test every man’s loyalty and love for her?
She wonders if her dad hadn’t separated from her mom when she was only ten-years-old, then would she feel the need to test every guy she’s ever dated? Maybe. Maybe not. She makes a mental note to ask one of her friends what they think. They know her well. Well, up until she left for China last year. Audrey lost contact with them because she didn’t want to be the only single one on their group trips to Coachella or Burning Man or the Secret Solstice Festival in Iceland. But seeing Sasha, Arabella, and Nora newly single, she wonders what she missed while she was off in Shanghai clubbing, teaching, and serial-dating?
“Hey, Audrey?” Pierce holds up a slice of cake.
“Oh, hey.”
“Did you hear a word I said?” He tilts his head to the side and smiles.
“No, I’m sorry. I must’ve spaced out.” How long has she been daydreaming? She tries to make an effort to be present. She doesn’t want him to catch her staring off into space again. She’s already embarrassed about his lips on her thigh earlier.
“You know, if I didn’t have self-confidence, my feelings would be hurt.” He shakes his head and tries to look offended.
“I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?” As soon as she says it, she realizes that this level of flirting may be too advanced for her. What if he asks her for something that she’s not ready to give? Quickly she admonishes herself. He won’t ask her for sex as an apology. What kind of guy would ask for that?
“Let me feed you.”
“What?”
“Come on,” he laughs and leads Audrey to a circular table nearby with abandoned white chairs and unused dessert forks. He pulls out a chair and gestures for Audrey to sit down.
She hesitates. He grins. She giggles. She can’t believe that she’s about to let a grown man feed her cake. Suddenly she feels shy.
“I’ve never been fed cake before.” She sits down.
“No?” He draws a chair up to her and sits directly in front of her. Their knees touch. She blushes and glances down at the slice of cake. “So, I’m your first?”
Audrey’s eyes dart up to Pierce’s. Does he know? Did she tell him? Did somebody else tell him? But who? Chris doesn’t know. Unless Whitney told him. Would she? No, she wouldn’t. Or would she? Don’t husbands and wives tell each other everything? Or is that an urban myth? Like one-night-stands turning into happily-ever-afters and meeting your soulmate at your best friend’s wedding. Urban myth
s that Audrey finds herself rethinking. Maybe they exist for a reason. Maybe a girl really did meet a boy at a wedding, hook up with him, and get married. Or maybe Audrey’s been reading too many romances. But aren’t romances based on real life?
“Hey, Audrey?” Pierce laughs.
“Hey. Sorry. I get lost in my thoughts sometimes.”
“Am I boring you?” He cuts a piece of cake and holds the fork up. He watches her eyes dance from him to the piece of cake on the fork and back to his eyes. She licks her lips. “Let’s play a game.”
“What kind of game?” She doesn’t like being teased. She wants her cake. Needs her cake. Sweets have been her sex-substitute for years. Actually, ice cream has been her sex-substitute. Cookies and cream ice cream. The smoothness of the vanilla and the roughness of the chocolate cookies caressing her tongue were always enough to satisfy her cravings. But now that she doesn’t have any ice cream and she’s sitting opposite the sexiest man she’s seen in a while, she’s not quite sure if she can keep her urges at bay. Should she? What’s she holding back for, anyway? Wasn’t she waiting for a great guy to sweep her off her feet and…wine and dine her?
“The sort of game where I ask you a question, and if you answer to my satisfaction, then you get some cake.”
“Okay.” How hard could this be?
“Question number one,” he dramatically holds up the fork with some chocolate cake and vanilla icing, “If you could pick anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?” He watches her think.
“Living or dead?”
“Unless you want a decomposing body at the dinner table, I’d say living.”
“Ugh. You’re so not funny.” She laughs.
“Then why’re you laughing?” He laughs and nearly drops the cake.
“Easy!” She leans forward with her hands ready to catch it.
“I got it, player.” He cups one hand underneath the fork.
“Player?” She furrows her brow. How is she player? She’s still a virgin.
“Softball player.” He laughs at her confusion.
“You knew!” She pretends to hit him on the arm.
“Guilty.” He laughs.
“Then you knew I would catch the bouquet?”
“Guilty again.” He balances the cake in his hand. “Are you going to answer my question, or will I have to eat your cake?”
The double entendre hangs in the air for a moment. Pierce grins at Audrey’s widening eyes. His open flirtation makes her feel like a character in a romance. She usually doesn’t blush so easily. But Pierce seems to know all of the right things to say.
The longer she thinks about him eating her cake, the more she blushes. So, she blurts out the first celebrity’s name that comes to mind:
“Oprah!”
“What?”
“I’d pick Oprah to be my dinner guest.”
“Why?” He looks amused by her response.
“Because I want to live my best life.”
He laughs so loudly that he tilts his head back and nearly drops the cake. Audrey leans forward to catch it in case it falls.
“Oh no you don’t.” He holds the cake up high over his open palm.
“I don’t want it to fall.”
“Because you made me laugh, you get some cake.” He holds the fork up to her mouth, “Open wide.”
Her pulse quickens. Her blood races. She’s sure that she’s turning a few shades darker. She parts her mouth. She doesn’t want to appear...indecent.
“Wider,” he commands with an authority in his deep voice that makes her gut tighten. She wants him to use that tone and tell her where to lie down and how wide to open her legs. But, she’s getting ahead of herself. Her body is always getting ahead of her.
Audrey swallows. The act causes her mouth to close momentarily.
“Open. Wide,” Pierce commands. Gleefully silent, she obeys. Slowly he brings the fork to her mouth. He places it through her waiting parted lips. The chocolate cake touches her tongue. She closes her lips over it. Pierce pulls the fork out of her mouth slowly. She cleans the icing off the fork as he pulls it out of her mouth.
“Mmmm,” she moans. Chocolate always makes her moan. The sweetness. The moistness. She imagines he were pulling something else out of her mouth. But, she resists the urge to reach forward and feel how much he’s packing. She stopped doing that in college when she learned that guys thought she was ready to have sex. She wanted an equal exchange of oral sex for oral sex. She also wanted to know how much she’d expect to have in her mouth. But, she learned to state her desires up front rather than grope guys. She wants to tell Pierce that she wants him to kiss her...everywhere. But, she wants him to lead this dance. She wants him to seduce her. She likes the way he takes control.
“Second question.” Pierce slices the fork into the cake and partitions off another piece with frosting. Audrey salivates at the sight of the dessert in his hand. “Would you like to be famous? In what way?”
“No.” Immediately she thinks about her friends who went to boarding school in Princeton and Greenwich and had reality TV shows made about their lives. The Rich and Not-So-Famous. The show ran for a few seasons. They filmed on campus. Audrey’s parents refused to give her permission to be in any shots. They didn’t want her making a spectacle of herself. At the time, Audrey was livid. She didn’t speak to her parents for weeks. Then, when the show got negative press for showing the amount of money her friends spent on shopping sprees and concert tickets and sports cars, Audrey was glad that her parents forbade her from filming. She decided that she never wanted to be famous after that. She didn’t want people judging her.
“That was quick. Why not?”
“I don’t want to be judged for being me.” She exhales.
“I hear that.” He positions the fork to feed her. “Open wide.” He grins lasciviously.
“You’re shameless.” She laughs.
He places the fork slowly near the opening of her mouth. She smells the chocolate. She stops laughing but smiles broadly. He inserts the fork into her mouth. She tastes the chocolate as it lands on her tongue. She closes her eyes and chews slowly. She savors the sweetness and softness.
“Open your eyes.” Pierce commands.
Her eyes flicker open. The command makes her want him to command her to do other things. She looks around to see if anyone is watching them. The wedding guests have long parted. Hotel staff is clearing the tables across the dance floor.
Audrey fidgets in the chair that is suddenly uncomfortable. Her knees bump against Pierce’s sending a wave of desire up through her body. She stares into his eyes and then blinks back the desire. Pierce puts down the fork. He watches her with deliberateness. He slides up her dress to her knees. Her rate speeds up. He rests his palms on her knees. Her legs tense. He moves up her thighs. Anticipation makes her blood race through her veins. She swallows. He massages her thighs.
“Pierce.” Her breathing becomes shallow.
“Tell me you want me to stop, and I’ll stop.” His hands massage the softness of her inner thighs right near the apex of her legs. She can barely think. Her skin warms to his touch.
His strong, warm hands send shivers up her spine. She spreads her legs as wide as her dress will allow, which is only the space of two fists. He grins and nods.
“Tell me what you want, Audrey.” The scent of his cologne drifts her way as lean forwards, inches from her face.
She can’t. She can’t tell him that she wants him to rest her head on a satin sheet with rose petals while he parts her legs and tastes her. She can’t tell him that she wants him to be her first. She can’t tell him that she wants their after-reception-sex to turn into happily-ever-after-love. How can she? She’ll sound crazy. Or desperate.
He stops massaging her thighs. Running his fingers back down along her thighs, he removes his hands from underneath her dress. He adjusts it over her thighs. Then he scoops a generous piece of cake onto the fork. Instantly, she misses his hands on her. She
feels little fires beneath her skin where his fingers were. She needs a distraction.
“What does your tattoo say?” She tries not to stare at the piece of cake held aloft in his hands.
“See for yourself.”
Her heart beats so quickly that it’s all she can hear in her ears. She wipes her sweaty palms on her dress: aware of how unsexy that looks, but not caring. She doesn’t want to get sweat all over his tuxedo. Then she reaches for his loosened collar. She pushes it down. He turns to allow her access to the side of his neck.
“You’ll have to pull the bowtie it’s not loose enough.”
“Oh, but I like it.” She has visions of him as a British secret agent taking her on a walk on the beach, hiking her dress up to her waist, and making passionate love to her with his suit on. She laughs at her fantasy.
“What’s so funny?” He tenses at her touch. She wonders if her touch is having the same effect on him as his touch has on her.
“I, uh, had some naughty thoughts.” She pulls the bowtie, undoes the top buttons of his collar, and pulls it down to reveal his tattoo.
“Oh yeah?” He raises his eyebrows. She ignores his comment and reads his tattoo:
“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past. F. Scott Fitzgerald. The Great Gatsby… Gatsby! Of course. I thought it was familiar.” She runs her fingers along the black cursive ink. “It’s beautiful.”
“The tattoo or the quote?” Goosebumps rise on his neck. His skin is warm to her touch. She is having an effect on him! She likes his response to her touch.
“Both.” She doesn’t want to stop touching him. She isn’t sure where this could lead. She isn’t sure if she should tell him about her everything-but virginity. She doesn’t want to ruin the flirtatious flow that they have going. Her finger traces the words as if she were inking them into his skin again.
“So,” he says and waits for her to meet his gaze.
