Page 45 of Melt With You

Dori’s eyes widened as Bette pointed to the devices she wanted to buy. A strap-on and a harness. God. What did the woman expect from Dori? Why did she think that Dori would be able to wear something like this, that she could pull this off?

Because Bette knew something about Van that Dori didn’t.

That’s what this was all about.

‘We have a wide array,’ the salesgirl said, showing off the display. Bette was in motion in an instant, offering Dori a pink one first, then a black one. ‘What color do you think is best? What are you going to wear?’

Dori’s head spun. What was she going to wear? What color was best? She had no idea. Dazed, she let Bette choose several and lead her over to the dressing room – an orange tie-dyed curtain draped across a shower rod in the corner.

‘You can try them,’ she said.

‘Seriously?’

‘Yeah. Over your clothes. Just to make sure you like the way they feel.’

Dori started to pull the curtain closed around her, but Bette ducked in with her.

‘You don’t mind, do you?’

Did she?

She thought of that Bon Jovi dream, her own dream in which he’d chosen Violet over herself. She wasn’t going to let that happen again, wasn’t going to say no to the chances that presented themselves to her.

‘I don’t mind,’ she said, making space for Bette.

‘Good. Let’s see the blue one first.’

On the train ride home, Dori was in a daze. She’d ridden the train often enough as a teenager, going shopping in the Castro with Violet so that they would have the coolest accessories in school. Nobody else seemed to have discovered San Francisco, even though the city was only an hour away from the suburb where she’d grown up.

Thinking back, she remembered some of her most treasured finds. A white T-shirt with the word boy in bold black letters on the front and a UPC code beneath it. Like a generic boy. She’d worn that for the hell of it. For the looks it got her.

She’d had cobalt-blue stretch pants emblazoned with black widow spiders. She’d had high-top sneakers covered in thin, floss-like colored ribbons. And armfuls of funky bracelets, some made of Lucite and filled with liquid and baubles that moved when you shook them. Others made of pounded metal painted different colors. She’d always jingled when she walked.

Now, she thought about the way she dressed in 2008. Yes, she worked in a creative industry. She could get away with showing attitude in her outfits, but aside from her white Juicy dress, she’d become reliant on an all-black wardrobe, like so many of the New Yorkers she knew. Black was easy. Black went with everything.

The 80s were filled with color. Bursting. Electrifying. When had she traded in her rainbow world from one of black and white?

She stared out the window of the train and told herself that if she ever got back to her real life, she would replace her wardrobe immediately. She’d pour the color back in, splash it around, mix it up.

She’d never settle for a black-and-white world again.

Chapter Twenty-One

When Van was on X, something happened to his eyes. The light in his beautiful ocean-hued irises appeared muted, as if he were looking out at the world through a shiny film. Dori found that she wished he wouldn’t get high quite so often, and yet, she liked the sex when he was in an altered state. Fucking him while blasted was amazing. When Van was up, he loved everybody.

Or, at least, he wanted to.

They had a regular pattern now. Friday nights or Saturday nights – depending on whether or not Van had a gig – they hit The Majestic for the late show. Sometimes Nina and Bette would be there. Sometimes not. But on this night, Dori had a surprise. She couldn’t believe she actually had the harness and tool underneath the suit. But she did.

Bette had assured her that Van would be into it. That he would be blissed-out fully from the experience.

And what about her?

What would she get from the experience of fucking him?

She’d had an eye-opening encounter with Luke. She thought that maybe, just maybe, she could get into this Top Dom shit. Bette said the thing suited her. How strange to finally be admitting to herself the things that turned her on. She thought of the few times with Bryce that had really been amazing. Each time, they’d been drinking, and she had felt slightly more at ease in that relaxed state. Pushing him down on the bed. Climbing on top of him. But she’d never let him into her head. Never let him know what she needed to think about in order to get off. Where her fantasies led her.

Now, in the bathroom, she waited, as always, primping in front of the mirror. When Van came in, she turned on him immediately, pushing him up against the wall, grabbing hold of his fine, tight ass. She thought he’d give in to her power, but he surprised her, flipping her around so that she was the one facing the wall, then jerking her belt open and yanking down her slacks.

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