Page 34 of Melt With You

‘Ooh, it’s starting,’ Nina whispered, and Dori stared up at the screen, at a public service announcement she hadn’t thought of for twenty years. The director, Jon Waters, exhaling a silver plume of cigarette smoke and then dramatically sucking in the cloud of it through his nose, French style, as he warned the audience against smoking in the theater. There was laughter, and people threw popcorn at the screen, and Bette suddenly stumbled up the stairs, Gael in tow.

‘What’d I miss?’ she asked. Dori was bemused to see that Gael was dressed as Rocky in a loincloth made of shimmering gold material and nothing else.

‘Well, they were kissing in the lobby,’ Nina announced, and Bette chuckled as she set herself on the armrest between Van and Dori.

‘One of you is going to move,’ she said, ‘let’s see which one it’ll be.’

Dori got up immediately and scooted down a seat.

‘Thought so,’ Bette grinned. ‘It’s an easy way to play Spot-the-Sub.’ She settled into the chair and kicked her feet up on the seat in front of her, like a bad kid. A bad kid at forty. Had she ever grown up?

Gael had found a place on Nina’s side, and he didn’t seem concerned by Bette’s antics at all. Dori continued to take in Bette’s costume. She was Columbia through and through, with the gold-sequined hat, the fishnets, the short-shorts, the little, anklets.

As the movie started, those giant glossy red lips filling the screen, Bette gripped Dori’s hand and started to sing along.

The group came fully prepared, which surprised Dori. She’d thought only teenagers were so into Rocky Horror. But Nina produced from her large studded leather bag an assortment of items needed to enhance the film – uncooked rice to scatter during the opening scene, newspapers to rustle overhead as Brad and Janet rushed through the storm, water guns to help make it rain on those down below, bread to toss when the characters made a toast, cards to throw when Frank-N-Furter sang, ‘Cards for sorrow, cards for pain.’

Dori couldn’t remember the last time she’d had this much innocent fun. Messy, maybe. But God – shooting the water gun overhead, hearing the rain patter down on the newspapers below … She lost her worries while the movie was on. Lost all of her fears until Van stood up, grabbed her hand, and pulled her toward the aisle.

‘What’s going on?’

‘Don’t you remember?’

She shook her head. ‘It’s been a long time.’

‘We act it out.’ And he was pulling her down the stairs toward the stage. A huge swarm of people were headed there, to prance around to the music. There were feathered boas and high-heeled shoes. A swirl of colors, and the film playing in the background. And then there was Dori, kicking her legs in chorus-line style, buffeted by the men and women in drag.

She found herself looking down at Chelsea, whose eyes opened wide in shocked recognition. Had the girl realized who she was?

No, Dori assured herself. Chelsea simply thought she was Emma Martin, from New York. But she clearly did not expect to see Dori’s cousin dancing on stage at The Majestic. The vision would have surprised anyone, wouldn’t it?

Because Dori would never have expected it of herself, either. And yet she couldn’t remember the last time she felt so exhilarated. The crowd was cheering them on, and Van had his arm around her waist, holding her, laughing with her, kissing her, his lipstick smearing as he pressed his mouth firmly to hers. A shiver of erotic electricity flickered through her. She was reluctant to break the kiss.

When the scene was done, and Tim Curry had been vanquished by Riff Raff and Magenta, the live players stumbled down the stairs to the left of the stage. But Van didn’t lead her back up the steps to the balcony. Instead, he pulled her after him through the under-lit lobby, and up the back way, to the restrooms. Dori was giddy, a bit drunk from the Long Island Iced Tea, and flushed from the excitement of the performance. Playing Brad was more intoxicating than she would have thought.

The bathrooms were at the top of the stairs – Men’s room on the left, Ladies’ on the right. Van didn’t hesitate for a second, he dragged her after him into the Ladies’ room, pressed her up against the cold silver mirror, and started kissing her, his lipstick luscious on her mouth. She tasted the gloss, then felt his tongue on hers, and she closed her eyes. Van lifted her up, set her down on the closest white porcelain sink, and wrapped his boa around her, teasing her with the feathers. The sink was chilly beneath her, even through the material of her slacks, but that’s not what made her shiver.

She trembled at the touch. The delicate feathers tickled her in the most delicious manner.

‘You like that?’

Dori purred her response, words failing her.

‘Put your hands out.’

She opened her eyes and looked at him, still reeling, but she did as he said. Until coming back to town for the reunion, she’d never been tied up before. Was that why she was so wet, or was there something extra special about the way Van was treating her? Because in an instant, Van used the fuchsia boa to capture her wrists. Dori grinned at him, feeling silly wrapped up in the boa, but sexy at the same time. The feathers caressed her skin, but when she moved her wrists, bits of marabou fluff rained down on the pink tiled floor.

‘You’re mine now, Brad,’ Van said, his voice husky, and Dori thought about the one particular scene in the movie where Frank-N-Furter had his way with both Brad and Janet. She wondered whether Van might be bi. He did seem aroused by the fact that she had on a man’s suit.

‘Take down your pants.’

‘How can I?’ she drawled. ‘You’ve got me all tied up.’ She shook her wrists for emphasis, and more bright pink bits of feathery fluff floated in the air around them.

Van gazed at her, then pulled her off the sink and pressed her up against the Pepto-pink-painted wall. He fumbled around for her belt and then the zipper, slid the pants down around her ankles, and then laughed.

‘You even wore men’s drawers.’

‘I wanted to be fully in character,’ she said, turning her head so that she could smile at him in the mirror. ‘Didn’t feel right to have on my usual panties.’

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