Baby Batter

by Alexis Angel

  Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a good-sized clump of people gathered around the grill, but I’m more focused on the dozen or so bottles of wine and champagne sitting on a long table close to the door.

  I propel myself to the table.

  I feel weak and dizzy. What’s that about? I mean, I haven’t even had one drink yet.

  I grab the first open bottle I see and a thick plastic cup from the stack next to it. Let’s see, a 2008 Kahlia Dunbar Riesling from Washington State? Sure, why not.

  The cup looks like it holds about ten ounces; I decide to fill half of it. Then I get distracted by a wonderful scent wafting over from somewhere—maybe it’s grilled vegetables or something.

  Usually, that wouldn’t smell so amazing to me. But whatever, because now, being distracted, I end up pouring Riesling all the way to the brim.

  Oh well. I lift the glass in the air to nobody but myself.

  Cheers.

  I start with a small sip to keep any wine from spilling out…but it’s cold and refreshing, and I’m unexpectedly thirsty. My attempt at a sip turns into me taking down the entire cup in one go.

  Huh. Oh well, I don’t feel even a little bit buzzed.

  I notice a dark-haired woman around my age sitting on the chair next to mine. She’s watching me with a pleasant, kind expression. She looks so friendly that I’m not even startled, even though I don’t remember seeing her walk over, and she’s not wearing anything fancy, just a mauve blouse and jeans.

  “You must be the famous Emily I’ve heard so much about.”

  Wait…it can’t be her. I mean, she seems so nice.

  “Heard about? Only one person here knows me.”

  She smiles sincerely. “Yeah, Kirk. He talks about you. You are Emily, right?”

  I have trouble finding the words to respond. I think that wine may be catching up with me. I just nod.

  “Hi! I’m so glad to finally meet you! I’m Miranda. I’m friends with Kirk…well, we used to date. You probably know that.”

  And…fuck.

  It is her. Now I’m thinking it’s a good thing I filled that wine glass all the way.

  Miranda’s actually holding out her hand. No joke, this shit is happening. This barbecue defies expectations.

  I shake Miranda’s hand and accept that I have no fucking clue what to expect next.

  “Nice to meet you, Miranda.”

  Miranda’s sweet expression starts to go a little wild.

  “Are you ready to do a shot, or what?”

  So much for a polite, quiet evening with Kirk’s family. It seems like Miranda is still Kirk’s friend, though, and I’m already at this party, and I don’t want to be rude, so...

  “Fuck yeah, Miranda.” Let’s do this.

  Miranda’s smiling big now. She’s pretty, but not in any memorable way. I’m positive Kirk’s not attracted to her anymore, which would make it easier for them to be friends.

  “Come on, let’s do it up.”

  Miranda gets up with a little shimmy and gestures for me to follow her. I stand up with no effort, feeling weightless, kind of floaty. That Riesling is doing its job.

  This is good—I think. I’m sort of mingling, and if WineBar’s elusive ass is nowhere to be found, I might as well have some fun.

  Walking is suddenly much easier. That dizzy feeling is gone, and I’m just gliding behind Miranda, following her to more drinks.

  Wine’s a good start, but it’s time to move on. It’s not like a shot would be my first choice, but Miranda seems to know what she’s doing. And if I’m going to enjoy this barbecue, I want to do it right.

  I notice more food smells making their way over from the grill area and more people making their way from inside the townhouse to the great outdoors.

  It’s getting crowded, but I don’t mind so much now that I’m not standing out, and I’m no longer worrying about whatever shit’s going on with WineBar and meeting people.

  Hanging out with Miranda’s not that bad so far, and she’s his ex-girlfriend. Why would meeting WineBar’s brother, or his dad, be any kind of problem?

  Miranda leads me to another long table. This one is set up by the tall fence separating WineBar’s property from his neighbor’s. There are several people congregating around the table already, and I see a few more on their way over.

  The table’s covered in bottles of liquor—gin, rum, several brands of vodka, and a cluster of different whiskeys. I don’t see any mixers.

  I start to look around to glimpse if other people are doing shots or taking their drinks neat, but Miranda is already pushing a plastic cup into my hand.

  “What is this?” There are easily three ounces of amber liquid in the cup. Some shot.

  “Craft bourbon. Really good stuff.”

  Before I can ask if this is a waste of expensive whiskey, Miranda takes down her own generous shot in a gulp. I throw back my shot; it’s so smooth I barely notice it.

  More of the young, fashionable party guests are crowding around the liquor table, and people are still flowing outside from the house. As I watch the growing crowd, Miranda seems to read my mind.

  “I know you barely know anyone here. Come on, let me introduce you to some people.”

  Kirk

  The ground floor bathroom may not be as impressive as the master bedroom en suite, but it’s more than large enough for me to sprawl out on the floor with Em in satisfied post-sex bliss.

  I swear, sitting here with Em after yet another perfect fuck is like the best way to get this party started. We’re just tangled up together as we catch our breath, resting on the warm hardwood floor.

  Emily is gazing straight ahead at the closed door, a small satisfied smile on her face, and I can’t stop looking at her. As good as the sex is—and let me tell you, it’s fucking of the charts mind-blowingly amazing—this feeling of comfortable silence is also pretty awesome.

  This is real intimacy. Something totally new to me. And I fucking love it.

  Em looks at me, and I move my hand over to lace my fingers through hers.

  “Pretty good barbecue, huh?” I stay straight-faced. I want Emily to decide how serious I am.

  “Yeah, not bad at all.” Emily gives me a naughty little wink.

  Fuck, she’s like so perfect. I love how she’s totally down to run off and fuck me in the bathroom in the middle of a party. Like she can’t get enough of me.

  I know the feeling.

  Em turns to look toward the door. The bathroom is, fortunately, set off from the most accessible parts of the ground floor. It’s usually nice and quiet here, until later in the party. We’re getting to that point now.

  The barbecue’s wearing on, and the booze must be flowing. A few loud, muffled laughs reach the bathroom. I’m still watching Emily, and the laughs inspire a mischievous little smile.

  Awesome. They’re having their fun, and she’s having hers.

  “It’s barely even started yet, Em. This is going to be perfect.”

  Emily looks back at me. She’s no longer smiling, but she still seems content. She inches her hand away from mine.

  “I just need to wash up a bit first.”

  Emily stands up in a quick, fluid movement.

  “Damn, baby.” I smack her lightly on the ass. “And here I thought you might not be able to walk straight the rest of the night.”

  She laughs. “Night’s ot over yet, is it?”

  Em starts checking her makeup in the mirror. At least I think that’s what she’s doing.

  I hoist myself up and take a spot just behind Emily. I look at our reflection, my head towering above her left shoulder. Emily smiles when she sees me in the mirror, and I start massaging her shoulders.

  “Still feeling nervous?”

  Emily’s almost laughing as she looks down and dries her hands quickly on the towel by the sink. She looks straight back at the mirror, grinning at my reflection before answering.

  “No, I think you took good care of that.”

  I
smile warmly at the mirror.

  “Good. Now that’s out of the way, I’m ready to get back out there. I can’t leave Tad at the grill for too long.”

  Emily’s smile is fading. She starts adjusting her dress, trying to get it back into shape for the party.

  More muted laughing and mumbled, excited talking echoes into the bathroom. Emily’s smile turns confused and maybe a little…annoyed?

  “Who are all those people out there again? I’d like to know before braving the crowds.”

  “Right now, they’re all just friends of mine.”

  Emily’s dress looks perfect now, but she’s still pulling at it.

  “All friends? Okay, I can meet some of them, I hope.”

  I think about who to introduce Em to first. Shit. There’s at least one guest I should probably avoid altogether.

  It’s not too surprising Miranda showed up. She still runs in a lot of the same circles. I’ll give Tad the benefit of the doubt; I’m sure he knew better than to invite her, especially with Emily here.

  Miranda is here, though, and I should be honest about it. Can’t have that shit blowing up in my face.

  “Well, almost all friends. The invite list for this party is a bit…crowdsourced. Somehow, an ex-girlfriend of mine ended up here. I can’t really call her a friend at this point.”

  Emily looks down, adjusting the hem of her dress again. I watch very carefully to see if she stops for even a fraction of a second. But no, she keeps right on doing whatever she’s doing with that dress.

  It doesn’t faze her one bit. Emily looks straight back up at the mirror to check her face again. Nope, it doesn’t bother her at all, which is good because I don’t want to think about it.

  I breathe a little easier.

  There’s always a snag of some kind, but I want to focus on making everything perfect tonight,—and on making Emily a bigger part of my life.

  Maybe Miranda’s already gone for some reason. Not likely, but it would make things easier.

  I start rubbing Em’s shoulders again.

  “You look perfect, babe, and someone’s going to need to come in here eventually.”

  Emily just stares stone-faced at the mirror. It looks like she’s studying herself.

  I’ll admit that I’m no expert in makeup application. I don’t know what part of the process this is, but Em legitimately does look perfect, and I’m seriously starting to worry about the mayhem that Tad might be unleashing upon my grill.

  “Aren’t there other bathrooms?”

  I guess Emily has no plans to be finished soon, but that’s fine. As long she stays happy and comfortable.

  “Oh yeah. They always find this one eventually, but don’t worry, babe. Take as long as you need. The door’s locked, and they can knock all goddamn night if they want.”

  I figure this should get a small smile, at least, but Emily stays straight-faced as she gives her dress a slight, final adjustment and gives her golden hair a little toss.

  Does she realize how ridiculously fucking hot she looks when she does that? I watch Emily’s reflection leave the mirror, and a second later her shoes are clicking toward the door. I turn around to see Emily facing me, her hand on the doorknob.

  “How do you want to do this? Should I go first?”

  Normally, neither one of us would give a fuck about being caught coming out of the bathroom together. But my family is supposed to be here, so I actually give it some consideration.

  “Um, yeah. I’ll be out in a couple minutes. We’ll meet up shortly. Have a good time, babe, grab a drink, some food—hopefully Tad isn’t fucking up the grilled stuff too much. I can introduce you around in a bit.”

  Emily nods, sort of smiles, and very quickly opens and slides out the door before closing it silently.

  I look at my wristwatch. Okay, two minutes…no, ninety seconds, and then I can sprint over to my grill to make sure it’s okay.

  Emily

  The crowd inside is even bigger than before, but with Kirk leading the way, moving through it seems a lot more manageable. As he guides me down a packed hallway, there’s something about him that makes people instinctively make way for him to pass.

  He would be an awesome date to concerts, I realize. And food festivals. And parades.

  But right now, it’s hard to get my brain to focus on anything but the feel of his hand around mine, squeezing it tight.

  Well…that, and what he has in store for me when he gets me to his bedroom.

  “Don’t look so nervous.” He smiles over his shoulder, and I feel my mouth go dry. “I’m trying to calm your nerves, remember? Not get you all worked up all over again.”

  “There are just…a lot of people here, I guess.” I try to smile back, but it feels forced.

  “Then let’s get a little privacy.”

  We come to a stop outside of a set of massive double doors.

  Uh-huh. Some cottage, WineBar.

  Kirk lifts my fingers to his lips and kisses them, hard. His eyes look hungry, and not for barbeque either.

  His breath is on my fingertips, hot and humid. It makes me think of the other places I’d like to feel his breath…

  Shit. I’ve been played! This whole calming me down thing is just a pretext. He wants this just as much as I need it.

  Now I’m nervous and horny. It’s a disastrous combination, if I’ve ever heard of one. Judging by the look in Kirk’s eyes, I can tell he’s going to take advantage of it too.

  “My lady,” he says in that suave, cocky voice that makes my stomach do backflips. “Our humble chamber awaits.”

  Kirk throws open the doors to the master bedroom dramatically.

  Oh god.

  Whatever I expected to see inside Kirk’s bedroom, it definitely wasn’t this.

  A flash of white-hot jealousy courses through my entire body as I get a full view of not one, not two, but three women in Kirk’s king-sized bed. They’re all wearing lingerie—barely—and as I catch a glimpse of chestnut hair, I realize I’ve seen these three before.

  Grill bimbos. The slinky little black dress on the floor confirms it—these are the girls who were chatting Kirk up when I first arrived. Even though I didn’t want to admit it, seeing them schmoozing it up with him had bothered me then.

  Now they’re in his bed. Which is like, approximately five billion times worse.

  I look up at Kirk, ready to bail. Yeah, WineBar. Let’s see you explain this one, huh?

  To my amazement, he’s blushing. Like, actual, honest-to-god, pink-around-the-ears blushing.

  It’s pretty cute, admittedly. So is the way he raises his hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh. When he catches me staring at him, he slowly presses his index finger to his lips in pantomime: Shhhhh.

  And that’s when I realize.

  The girls in Kirk’s bed aren’t waiting for Kirk.

  The girls in Kirk’s bed are so busy attending to…ahem…one another that they haven’t even noticed that we’re here. The redhead and the brunette are locked in what looks like an impassioned tongue fight while the third girl is struggling to unclasp her bra, waiting for the right moment to dive in.

  Looks like they found something else to do after all.

  “Oh,” I say softly.

  “Yeaaaaah.” Kirk closes the doors to his master suite gently so we don’t disturb the trio inside.

  Once they’re closed, we both have to laugh.

  “They said they were girlfriends,” Kirk says, pulling me to him as we both shake with laughter. “I didn’t think they meant like that.”

  “Yeah, I think they’ve clarified their relationship pretty well now.”

  I giggle as Kirk hugs me to his chest. He kisses the top of my head while I breathe him in. He smells incredible, like light cologne and barbeque smoke and manliness.

  Whatever nervousness I was feeling before is gone. I must have left it back in Kirk’s bedroom to watch the lesbian three-way.

  For the sake of inner erotica author, I hope it’s taking
notes.

  Because now, I’m wet, I’m ready, and I’m in the arms of the most gorgeous man in a twelve-block radius. No, I take that back. In the whole fucking Bay Area.

  I need to be fucked. Like, immediately. Urgently. 911, orgasm emergency. Code red! Code red!

  “Come on,” Kirk says.

  From the way he’s pulling me back down the stairs, I know he must feel the same way.

  He guides me to a less traveled part of his house this time. As the party guests thin, my anticipation only gets thicker. Kirk is making long, deliberate strides like a man on a mission.

  I have to trot along behind him in my heels to keep up. But the whole time, I’m absolutely fucking giddy.

  I am that mission.

  I don’t know what Kirk has in store for me, but I know that I want it.

  We make it through a doorway. Barely. If there are lesbians getting it on in this room too, we don’t even look to check.

  Kirk slams the door behind us, and suddenly, my back is against it. His body leans on mine—hard, toned, and utterly gorgeous—and he claims my mouth with a kiss before I can even manage an appropriately breathy gasp of wantonness.

  One of his hands is in my hair, capturing my long locks in his forceful clutches.

  With his free hand, he locks the door.

  Kirk kisses me like a man starved. His tongue pushes its way between my lips, hot and slick, and I moan as I taste him.

  Fuck. I’ve never been so addicted to the way a man tastes before, but Kirk? He makes chocolate truffles and gourmet coffee seem like gas station snacks by comparison.

  We tangle our tongues together in desperation, and I can feel my wanting turning into something else: need.

  There’s a delicious warmness radiating from my panties all the way up to the butterflies in my stomach. Every cell in my body feels like it’s vibrating. Beneath my sundress, even my nipples are hard.

  Just from a kiss.

  Oh my god.

  If this man doesn’t touch me soon, I’m going to—I don’t know what I’m going to do. Scream, maybe. Then everyone in Kirk’s gorgeous home will know what he’s doing to me, and it would serve him right too.