Page 27 of Melt With You

Chelsea hadn’t made peace, had she? That’s why she’d gotten the extensions so that her hair was the same style it had been twenty years before. Why she’d Botoxed herself into expression oblivion, had bleached her teeth that unnatural shade of Weatherman White, spent hours under the sunlamp until her skin had that lizardy texture of a well-worn suitcase. Hell, she’d even talked about having what little excess fat that had clung to her thighs removed and injected into her face.

How crazy, Dori thought, considering all of the people who wished for their youth back now, when in high school all they’d wanted was to get out. Get older. If she could have returned to her high school days and told herself something, anything, what would she have said? There was a Gloria Steinem quote she had taped on her bathroom wall – she’d had it forever: ‘I wish our future selves could meet our past selves and say, “It’s OK. Do what you want to do. That’s the important thing.”’

This was different. Being here at the Rave. Even if she happened to be older than most of the people around her, the energy was different from the reunion. This wasn’t a group of people trying like mad to have a good time. The forced gaiety in the gym had been the worst part, aside from the fact that Rowan had stood her up. When she looked around the warehouse, she saw that the dancers here really were having a good time.

She could tell because she was one of them.

Van led her by the hand to a distant corner, pushed her up against the wall. She closed her eyes as he kissed her, and she felt herself spinning. This was amazing. Sublime. The music, and the heat, and the lights. His body pressed against hers, and she opened her eyes quickly. He was lifting her skirt. She stared around, seeing swirls of crimson followed by gold streaks. She blinked quickly. Silver seemed to flash through the air.

‘You okay?’

‘Yeah,’ she told him. She was surprised to hear her voice.

He pressed his mouth to her ear. ‘I want you, Emma.’

It took her a minute to realize who he was talking to. Even as his body pressed to hers. Even as he guided her hand to his cock and let her feel how ready he was. Emma. Who was Emma? Oh, that’s right. She was Emma.

‘Do you want me?’ he asked.

She nodded, groping down to hold onto his cock, to work her hand up and down. Was this wrong? Not that they were going to fuck, but that they were going to do so here? In the middle of a Rave? She looked around, and saw other couples equally engaged nearby. Perhaps fucking went naturally at Raves.

Van was working something out of his waistband. She saw the foil square dance in his hand, saw him slip the condom on before she helped to slip her panties aside and guide him inside her.

Was she doing this for real? She sucked in her breath as he held her in his arms, already feeling the pleasure begin to build within her. The way Van touched her added to the euphoria she’d been feeling from the X. His hands made all of her nerve endings come to life. Even when he simply stroked one hand along her arm, she shivered with delight. So when he brought a hand between their bodies, just lightly touching her clit, she thought she was going to scream.

But a tiny part of her brain continued to run commentary. Was this actually Dori? Fucking a semi-stranger at a party was much more of a Violet move than something she’d ever consider. But what was the problem? She and Van had already fucked once, hadn’t they? Still, Dori knew herself. She never would have slept with him in his van if she’d thought she’d actually see him again. Never have fucked the young record store clerk if she hadn’t convinced herself, even momentarily, that she was lost in a dream.

But now she was lost in a new way. Now, she was lost in a Rave.

And if this was lost, she never wanted to be found.

‘You okay?’ he asked again, pressed so firmly against her. God, if he kept working her like that, one hand pressed between their bodies so that he could continue to stroke her clit to the beat of the music, the other moving casually over her breasts, then down her side, stroking her, soothing her … if he kept up the motions, she would come. And then she would dissolve into all of the colors that swirled steadily around her. Not only the electric lights, but lights that only she could see.

She felt herself smiling, and wondered if she looked as blissed-out as she felt.

Mica found them moments later, connected, sweaty and still fucking in the corner. The woman didn’t say a word. Instead, she came close to Dori and started to kiss her. Dori opened her eyes, sensing a difference. This wasn’t Van kissing her. The lips were softer, cooler. This was a woman. She looked into Mica’s eyes, saw her own lust reflected there, and then shut her eyes once more. She felt as if she were in a rainbow, her body composed of bands of bright colors. She felt as if she were the music as the beat entered her bloodstream and began circulating through her.

Mica smelled so good. Musky and real, an earthy perfume that Dori didn’t immediately recognize, and then she breathed it in deep and remembered in a flash. Obsession. Nobody wore that fragrance any more. None of her friends, anyway. They’d all moved on, most of them commissioning their own personal scents from perfumeries in Paris. But the 80s had been different, all about those heady overpowering scents – Poison. Giorgio. She loved Obsession, and she leaned as far as she could toward Mica, to drink the woman in.

Oh, the sensations. She had flashes of total understanding. She’d always wanted this. Why had she shied away in school? Why had she always needed to be good, to stay pure? She didn’t know. But she’d missed out. And she wasn’t going to miss out any longer, that was for sure.

Rowan watched. From a distance, he watched.

Was this really Dori? Was this really the girl he’d thought he would marry once upon a time? She’d changed over the years, that was for sure. Not just the way she looked, because he had to admit that she was prettier now than she’d been as a kid. Different, yes, but beautiful instead of simply sweet. Her hair was much longer than the last time he’d seen her, and the front was streaked through with silver. Her body was intense, hard and lean, and those legs he’d spent hours fantasizing about, wanting to feel wrapped around his waist …

But he wasn’t simply mesmerized by the way she looked. It was the way she acted. He’d tried so many different times to get her to go all the way with him – not even sure how he’d feel if she said ‘yes.’ Just pressing her because it was what boys did. Tried to go for it. Tried to get the girl to agree. Never having to actually worry about what a ‘yes’ would mean, because Dori wasn’t the type of girl to say ‘yes.’

He’d followed her career for years, seeing her name in the magazines, making sure that he kept in touch with at least one of her friends. Because he’d been planning all along. He’d been waiting until he could make his fantasy a reality.

What he hadn’t planned on was her reaction to the situation. He’d never taken her thoughts into consideration. Why not? Because he’d been so sure of himself. Christ, he believed in science, in the numbers, in the facts. The problems always arose when you added humans to the mix, with their messy emotions and their fucked-up needs and crazy cravings.

He watched Dori, watched her destroy yet one more of his careful plans.

That was okay. He’d find a way. He’d waited this long, hadn’t he?

He could bide his time a little bit longer.

Chapter Eleven

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