by Alison Bond
Melanie watched, incredulous, as one of the men casually hopped up onto a chair and started screwing the woman and then broke away to return to his drink, leaving her swinging with the momentum of her last languid thrust. Two women steadied her then ducked underneath her, licking and biting at her breasts. The woman was obviously enjoying it, screaming with pleasure each time she was touched. The naked man was working up an impossibly large erection.
Melanie had seen enough, she left Fabien watching from the sidelines and re-entered the first, safe room
She was utterly freaked. What was she doing here? She immediately wanted to leave. There was open-minded and then there was downright perverted. Fabien had said ‘discreet’ and there was nothing discreet about that little scene. She had a mental picture of the girl just hanging there and letting strangers paw at her and go inside her; the image sat like a big fat scar on her innocent sexual life to date. She felt hopelessly naive.
The room she stood in now was still all very sedate, like any other cocktail party, but she looked around and saw things she hadn’t noticed before. For example there was a very big hook in the ceiling. Paranoia kicked in with a sickening thump and Melanie imagined she could feel all eyes on her. Every face she looked at seemed threatening. She became absurdly frightened that someone would approach her, and tried to blend into the background, imagining the flame of embarrassment on her face shining like a beacon. Look at me, everyone. I feel stupid.
She wanted to go home, but to do that meant dragging Fabien away from the entertainment and she didn’t know if she could face walking into that room again.
Just as she was gathering her courage and considering covering her eyes, Fabien appeared smoothly at her side.
‘Sorry, got distracted,’ he said.
‘I can see how you might,’ said Melanie. ‘I’d like to leave now.’
‘We just got here,’ he said reasonably. ‘I’m sorry, that was too much, I understand. We’ll stick to this room,’ he said, ‘for now.’
‘You said if I wanted to leave we’d leave. I’m obviously not Hollywood. I’m not ready for this. For that,’ she said, pointing in the general direction of the other room.
‘I’m back now, we don’t have to go in there again. Let me show you the rest of the house. If you’re here you may as well look around, especially if you never intend to come back. No more group scenes, I promise,’ said Fabien.
‘And then we can leave?’
‘Sure.’
They walked up the main staircase, which led out onto an internal courtyard. A few people were scattered on the designer upholstery, fully clothed Melanie was glad to note. Fabien led her down one of the corridors and pushed open a door, stopping to look inside before motioning to Melanie to follow him. ‘It’s empty,’ he said.
Fabien shut the door behind him and Melanie looked at the innocent bedroom suite. It was luxurious. The huge bed dominated the room, draped in purple satin and scattered with pillows, the walls were a soft eggshell blue to match the tiled en-suite bathroom. It was an elegant but sexy room, the sort you might find in a boutique London hotel. Her shame and embarrassment subsided now that they were alone. This was just Fabien: nice, safe Fabien and all was well in the world once more. If a little unconventional.
Fabien pushed a button and a section of the wood panelling slid aside to reveal a well-stocked mini-bar. ‘Champagne?’ he asked. He popped the cork while Melanie pulled out two glasses. She had never been able to resist a mini-bar.
They sat on the edge of the bed and Fabien tapped on the lid of a teak blanket box at the foot of the bed. ‘The toybox, want to see?’
Melanie shifted to get a better look. Fabien flipped the lid and it fell back to reveal a tray on its underside. Melanie looked at the assorted paraphernalia in the tray.
‘Okay, I get it,’ she said, holding up a condom. ‘I get, I get, I get.’ A wet-wipe, a tube of lubrication and some tissues. ‘But what’s this?’ she said holding up a peculiar-looking object.
‘It’s a dental dam, it’s for safe oral sex,’ said Fabien, indicating how the shield fitted over the mouth.
‘And these?’ Melanie had found a stack of small manila envelopes, which proved empty on inspection.
‘After you’ve used those,’ he said of the condoms, wet-wipes and everything else, ‘you dispose of them cleanly and discreetly.’
‘Wow. They really think of everything,’ she said. ‘Look at this!’ She pulled out a solid metal dildo that was so heavy she needed to use both hands. Rummaging in the box she saw whips and chains, feathers and flashes of PVC. There were also items that were much more confusing: blank sheets of white paper, strands of beads, a small drum. Melanie sipped her champagne and browsed the paraphernalia.
Fabien pushed another button and a sliding panel revealed a widescreen television. Tor background porn,’ he said solemnly and Melanie burst out laughing, which pleased him.
He was pretty sure he’d messed up by bringing her here. She was just a newcomer from over the pond. When she’d asked for new experiences she’d probably meant something more like surfing. But these were his people, this was what was left of the crazy eighties, the hardcore residuals that wouldn’t give up their games because of AIDS, they just changed the rules.
‘So this is your kind of party?’ asked Melanie after a while.
‘Occasionally, yes.’
‘But you could have sex at any party, I’ve seen you in action. Why come somewhere so manufactured? Do you really need all this to have good sex? I know you don’t believe that.’
Fabien raked his fingers through his jet-black hair and tried to explain. ‘It’s a place where you don’t have to be yourself,’ he said. ‘I like that.’ He gave one of the laconic Gallic shrugs that Melanie detested. ‘If you meet a woman and talk her into your bed, by the time you get to the sex, she knows you, even if it’s just a little bit. Sometimes it’s better with strangers.’
‘Fabien, you sleep with strangers all the time,’ said Melanie.
‘And I love every single one of them,’ he deadpanned.
Fabien walked over to the bar. ‘I am a very special guest so I know the secret code.’ He punched a number onto a small panel next to the fridge and, like a magician revealing a trick, moved his hand away with a flourish. ‘Et voilà!’
A small drawer extended smoothly and Melanie knew what to expect. Small bags of white powder nestled next to glass vials and pill bottles, each one neatly marked with handwritten labels. Fabien selected a bag of cocaine and began to rack up a line on the mirrored coffee table. ‘Do you want something?’ he asked.
‘I’m set, thanks,’ said Melanie.
The white line disappeared up Fabien’s nose and he prepared another. Melanie wished that he wouldn’t. It was fun being up here looking at this world, like a sexual Disneyland for adults, but she wasn’t taking it seriously and she still wanted to leave quite soon before she did. She watched as Fabien looked at some of the brown-glass pill bottles and couldn’t help saying, ‘Don’t,’ as he shook a couple of pills from one.
‘Why not?’ he said.
‘Can we go home?’
Even through his coke buzz, Fabien could see in her eyes how much Melanie wanted to leave. He relented. ‘Hey, I promised, didn’t I? Let me just find Amy and Milton, it would be rude not to at least say hello.’
Melanie could think of plenty of things that were rude tonight and improper social etiquette was not one of them. ‘Can I stay here and you come and get me?’
‘If you like,’ said Fabien. ‘I’ll be five minutes. If I can’t find them we’ll just go.’ He went to shake the pills back into the bottle but changed his mind and slipped one into his pocket and one into his mouth. Tor the journey,’ he said, by way of explanation.
‘Just don’t be long,’ said Melanie, as he left the room.
Twenty minutes later the door flew open and the blond man she had seen earlier burst through the doors with a stunning Japanese woman in tow. He look
ed at Melanie and smiled lecherously.
‘I’m waiting for someone,’ said Melanie, and he backed off, shutting the door behind him. Melanie checked it and realized the door didn’t lock. All the better for mingling, she supposed.
Where the hell was Fabien? She was extremely doubtful she could get a cab in this neighbourhood; until he came back she was stuck. After a further twenty minutes she decided she had a choice: she could either stay in this room indefinitely, sleeping here if necessary, or she could go back downstairs and find Fabien or some other way home.
She walked down the stairs with long, elegant strides and a lot more bravado than she felt inside. She was an actress after all; she could play the part of a sexual adventuress if that was required, She imagined that she was a character in a play, a French farce perhaps or someone sexy like Moll Flanders,
She walked into the main room. Not wanting to stand alone while she searched with her eyes, she went over to the bar where she felt more comfortable. The bar tender poured her a martini without being asked. You got great service at sex parties, you had to give them that. But she needed to take it easy, a couple more drinks and she’d be smashed and she definitely wanted to stay in control.
She toyed with her drink and cased the room. No Fabien. It was probably too much to hope that he would just be standing around trapped in conversation. It was much more likely that he was off somewhere having his favourite kind of fun.
One or two people tried to engage her in conversation but she acted bored and aloof and they soon got the message. Across the room Melanie spotted the only other familiar face, the blond who had walked in on her upstairs. She beckoned to him and her heart sank as she watched him strut towards her. He thought she was interested, he was actually preening, patting his hair into place.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Have you seen… my friend?’ She didn’t know how she was supposed to refer to him.
‘Didn’t show, huh?’ said Blondy. ‘Maybe he changed his mind. If you ask me, he’s crazy.’
‘Have you seen him or not?’
‘As a matter of fact, yeah, last time I saw him he was upstairs, third door on the left. You sure?’
Melanie didn’t even bother to respond. Leaving her drink practically untouched she retraced her steps.
She was furious with Fabien. He knew her well enough to understand that she was an old-fashioned girl at heart. Was he deliberately trying to shock her? She had been expecting some sort of singles party, a desperate-and-date-less ball, not this. She was a fool to think that her new life had given her the sophistication to deal with anything. Maybe she hadn’t changed that much at all.
Back upstairs and standing outside the correct door she wondered momentarily if this might be Blondy’s idea of a joke. Unless she looked, she would never know. Taking a deep breath she pushed open the door.
On the bed a man she didn’t recognize had a video camera and was managing to record the action and jerk off at the same time. Fabien was there, lying back on a chaise longue that looked as if it was made of rubber, his head was between the ample breasts of a strange woman leaning over him. On the floor in front of him a redhead was eagerly sucking him. Melanie recognized the red hair and the distinctive mask and saw that it was the same red-headed girl that had been suspended from the ceiling earlier. She’d lost the bottom part of her leather catsuit and all Melanie could see was her pert brown bottom sticking out obscenely into Fabien’s grasping hands. Fabien looked up lazily, his pupils wide and his eyes glazed.
‘Honey, meet Amy and Milton.’ The woman with the big tits gave her a wide smile and the man on the bed actually waved. The redhead turned round to look at her but said nothing.
‘Give me the car keys,’ said Melanie.
‘Honey, honey, stay and play.’ Fabien’s voice was slurred and he threw open his arms expansively
‘Give me the car keys, I want to go home. I’m sure you can get a ride.’ She shot a contemptuous look in the general direction of the others. She was bored of trying to fit in.
Fabien took the car keys from his breast pocket and dangled them in front of his face. ‘How much are they worth?’ he asked.
‘Don’t, Fabien, I’m not in the mood.’
‘But you never are, are you, sweetheart?’ said Fabien. He turned to the rest of the people in the room who watched the conversation with idle interest. ‘She fucked me within minutes of meeting me and since then nothing, nada.’ His voice dropped to a ridiculous stage whisper and he cupped his hand around his mouth. ‘Frigid.’ He pointed at Melanie and fell back onto the chaise longue laughing, his eyes rolling.
The redhead in front of him turned back to the business in hand, or rather, in mouth.
Melanie snapped. ‘Hey! I hadn’t finished,’ she shouted, her voice shrill and her frustration making her close to tears.
‘Me neither, babe,’ said Fabien, eliciting a giggle from Red. ‘Sure you don’t want to party? It must have been a while.’ Fabien was completely wasted. With horror she realized that he probably acted like this a lot when she wasn’t around.
Melanie stood her ground. The silence filled the room with tension as Melanie and Fabien stared at one another. Eventually, just as Milton cleared his throat to speak, Fabien tossed the car keys in her direction. They fell to the floor and Melanie had to bend over to pick them up, feeling four sets of pitying eyes on her.
‘There you go, drive safe now, y’hear?’ said Fabien.
The redhead bent over Fabien again without waiting for Melanie to leave the room. Melanie went to shoot Fabien one last killer look, something that he might just remember after he sobered up, something to let him know how much he had hurt her, but instead her eyes locked onto a small green tattoo on the redhead’s ass that she hadn’t noticed before.
It was an apple. For temptation.
Mary Ann, was her first thought.
Couples only, was her second.
Melanie ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time, avoiding eye contact as she pushed people aside in her haste. She bolted out of the front door and handed the car keys to the valet. She was jumping at shadows and worried that any second Davey would confront her. Her mind was spinning. She conjured a mental image of Mary Ann hanging from the ceiling, her cheap red wig cascading over her masked face. And Davey. Strangely, that was the most crushing blow of all.
The valet brought the car around and she jumped in, throwing twenty dollars in his direction and getting away as fast as she could.
She shouldn’t care so much, but she did. She was out of her depth and drowning. If that made her old-fashioned and uptight then so be it. Maybe Fabien was right, maybe she was frigid, or maybe she was just an ordinary girl in extraordinary circumstances. If this was the Los Angeles highlife she was going home.
A few hundred yards away she stopped the car. She shouldn’t drive. She was upset and over the limit. The neighbourhood looked ironically safe and cosy, there were lights on in several porches. She figured that compared to where she’d just come from she could probably walk.
She called a cab from a late-night store and waited for it in the brightly lit forecourt. When it came she checked the driver’s ID, sank gratefully into the musty upholstery and locked the door. It took her home.
She called Davey. It rang and rang and when the answer-phone eventually kicked in she hung up. Of course he wasn’t there, he was out, she knew that. Her fingers hovered over the numbers. She could call his mobile. She could make up some reason for her call and leave a message, at least that way she could ask him where he was and see what he said. She punched in the number.
‘Hello?’
Melanie slammed down the phone.
She wasn’t expecting him to answer.
Ten seconds later her telephone rang into life. She knew it would be him. Caller ID, damn.
‘Did you just call me?’ he said.
‘Hi, yeah, I wanted to ask something about…. the film, but then I realized it was late and I thought it could wait unti
l tomorrow.’
‘What?’ said Davey.
‘What?’
‘What did you want to ask?’
‘Oh.’ Melanie was thinking on her feet and not doing a very good job. It sounded very quiet in the background, no cracking whips or screams of pleasure, just the faint murmur of Glenn Miller. ‘Um, did you get a UK release date yet?’
‘Yeah, it’s next month, the seventeenth, I think. Hang on, I have it here somewhere.’ Melanie could hear his footsteps. He was at home. ‘Yep. The seventeenth.’
‘Great, thanks.’ Melanie’s mind went blank.
Davey filled the pause. ‘So how are you? It’s been a while.’
‘Davey, I saw you last week.’
‘It feels like longer,’ he said and Melanie silently agreed. She felt like it was for ever.
‘Do you wanna get together soon, see a movie or something?’
‘I’m not sure. It’s a busy time right now. You know, Justice and everything.’
Davey could hear the caution in her tone. ‘Okay, well, whatever. You all right?’
‘I’m fine. I’d better go, it’s late.’
‘Yeah. Seeya.’
Neither hung up.
‘Did you really want to know about the film?’ asked Davey.
‘Can I ask you a question?’ she said.
‘Sure.’
‘Where were you tonight?’
‘Here, I was watching Adam’s Rib on TCM,’ said Davey.
‘Where’s Mary Ann?’
‘Working.’
She could have said more, She wanted to, but she showed uncharacteristic restraint. It was as if this latest disclosure had given her a little clarity. Suddenly she felt practically noble. Maybe Fabien had done her a favour after all.
Mary Ann and Davey were married. It was none of her business.
Learn When To Blend And When To Sparkle
There is such a thing as too much. Too much gloss, too much glamour, too much razzmatazz. People have their limits, which explains why Vegas has always been more of a weekend place. Tone it down occasionally and watch quietly at the back. At times, conformity is the key to success.
