I went to the stereo and put a cassette into the player. The tape I selected was a homemade mix of soft, funky jazz selections. Helen stood up and asked me to dance with her. I'm not much of a dancer, but I gave it my best effort. Helen pulled me tight to her body, pressing her breasts against me and she ground her pelvis into mine until she was practically dry-humping me in front of her husband. Lisa got up and asked Charles to help her move the coffee table. With the coffee table out of the way, Lisa put her arms around his neck and they started dancing. Helen whispered into my ear, "Lisa tells me you two are rather adventurous." "What else did she tell you," I asked. "She told me she collared you this morning and now you are her obedient little pet." I could feel my cheeks redden. "It's okay," she continued. "Charles and I have our little secrets too. Before the night is out, you are going to watch Charles fuck Lisa and Lisa is going to watch you fuck me." I was shocked with. Ninety-five pounds of Tequila disguised as you tried to make out with me. And possibly wet the couch.” “I did not wet the couch,” she said sharply, slapping his arm. “I spilled my drink.” “Yes. Spilled something you drank. Out of your body.” He was playfully slapped again, and it actually stung quite a bit. Apparently, her wiry little Latino arms were stronger than they looked. “And anyways, Emily, nothing happened between us.” “Uh yeah, ’cause you’re a fuckin’ gentleman, that respects women,” she retorted. “That’s why you and Chloe lasted so long. Waaay longer than you two should have. Well, jig’s up now.” She began to dig through her purse again, finally pulling out a familiar-looking Japanese charm. It was half the size of the convention pass, a thin slat of wood with strips of red and white thread woven around it in an intricate pattern. An ornate series of Japanese kanji had been carved into it. “Oh, no.” “Ohhh, yeaaah,” she mimed in her low-pitched fruit-drink pitcher.
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