What could she do?
She wasn’t sure. She stood up finally, unlocked the door, went back to join the party. Fortunately not many people had seen her headlong flight, and those who had did not know what had prompted it.
Craig was at the bar.
“Hi,” she said. “I could definitely use a drink.”
He asked her what the matter was.
“Too much scotch,” she said. “I guess I don’t hold my liquor very well. At least I didn’t ruin the hall carpet.”
“You went by so fast—”
“I know,” she said. “I was getting green around the gills. But I’m ready to start again.”
He gave her a drink and she drained it.
9
She was very drunk.
She sat on the couch, alone now, listening to the music that played on the hi-fi system and watching the proceedings. There were not too many proceedings left to watch. Most of the guests had managed to pair off into couples, or to make up otherwise acceptable groups, and had hence repaired to bedrooms for fun and frolic. Larry Ellis was off taking a shower with a girl; April had seen them stroll by, Larry’s hand buried in the girl’s blouse and his nasal voice explaining quite explicitly just where he was going to soap her, and just where she was going to soap him, and just what they were going to do standing up.
One couple was dancing now. The girl had removed dress and bra and the man had taken off his shirt. Both were barefoot and naked from the waist up. They swayed slowly together, their bodies tight in passion. Once they parted momentarily and April could see the girl’s pink nipples. They were hard as little rocks.
Craig had been with her for awhile. Craig had taken her into a bedroom, and Craig had undressed her, and Craig had made love to her. That had been good in a way, and she had needed it. But somehow it had left her unsatisfied. She was still hot as a pistol, still needed something desperately. Craig was gone now and she did not know whom he was with or what they were doing. Nor did she give a damn.
God, she was drunk.
Not just high, with her head pleasantly light and her eyes pleasantly glazed. That stage had come and gone long ago. Now she was unable to stand without swaying, unable to walk without reeling. Her head was off in its own private world and her body was at once tired and hungry.
And they were having an orgy.
Not exactly an orgy, she thought. The Romans would have thought it pallid beyond description. And Craig had told her of orgy scenes he had been in which were far more shocking than what was going on at the Jeffers home. Yet it was still an orgy as far as she was concerned. Men were going off with girls, carting them to bedrooms, laying them and leaving them, taking fresh partners and starting in anew. If that wasn’t an orgy, then what in the name of hell was it?
She turned slightly and her head ached. There was a girl sitting next to her.
“An orgy,” April said.
“Really, honey? It’s an idea, I suppose.”
April tried to focus her vision. The girl, she saw, was Margo Long. Margo, who had waxed so vitriolic on the subject of Craig’s parties and the people attending them. Margo was about half in the bag herself, she realized. But she carried her liquor better than April North. She looked cool and detached, calm and relaxed.
“Jus’ a goddam orgy,” April said. “All at once every thin’ starts happenin’.”
“Is something the matter, honey?”
“I don’t know. I need a drink.”
She stayed where she was while Margo obediently crossed the room and poured liquor on ice. She returned, gave the glass to April.
“It was scotch, wasn’t it?”
“It started that way. I tried vodka somewhere in the middle, but I’m back with scotch now.”
“Then may the Lord help you in the morning. You need this drink like a hole in the head, honey.”
“I guess so.”
While she sipped the scotch, Margo looked at her quizzically. “Someone must have handed you a rough time,” she said softly. “You want to talk about it?”
“Gotta talk to someone.”
“You can talk to me, honey.”
“Can I?” April pursed her lips. “Everybody talks. Chatter, chatter, chatter. Like magpies. Ever see a magpie?”
“Nope.”
“Neither did I. Gotta talk to someone who listens. You wanna listen to me?”
“Sure, honey,” Margo said. She reached out, patted April gently on the knee. Her hands were very soft, April noticed. Soft and cool and infinitely gentle.
“Come with me, April.”
“Where?”
“Outside. There’s a chaise in the garden. We can talk there without interruption.”
“Okay.”
“And the cool air will sober you up a little.”
“Don’t wanna sober,” April said. “Wanna drunk.”
“Come with me, honey.”
She was standing now, with Margo supporting her, an arm around her waist. And she was walking, managing somehow to make one foot go before the other in a relatively orderly fashion. They walked through Craig’s house, out the back door and into the garden. As they passed closed doors, she wondered just which door Craig was behind, and with whom. Not that she really cared, of course. Not that she gave a damn—
The fresh air jolted her. She filled her lungs and her head cleared a little. She was still drunk, of course, still stoned out of her ever-loving mind, but the fresh air did make a great difference. She didn’t feel sick any more and her head worked a good deal better.
“Sit down with me, April.”
The chaise where they sat was larger than the usual run of garden furniture, about the size of a double bed. A plastic affair with a pale yellow terrycloth cover, the chaise was springy and comfortable.
“Kick off your shoes, April. Relax a little.”
She took her shoes off.
“You could take off your dress, too. Just sit around in bra and panties. The cool night air would feel wonderful on bare skin, April.”
That sounded fine. But she remembered that sitting around in bra and panties might be difficult, since she had neither. She looked at Margo. The older woman was perfectly calm, perfectly lovely in the half-fight that filtered out to them from the noisy house. An opulent figure, April thought. Lush breasts and a lush belly and a lush behind. A big woman, and a lushly pretty one.
And I, she thought, am just a lush.
“Can’t strip,” she said. “Nothing under the dress.”
“Left your underwear inside?”
“Nope. Left it home. Didn’t wear any.”
“Really?”
“Wanted to be sexy,” she said. “For Craig, because I love Craig. But he laid another girl.”
“He generally does,” Margo said.
“That Sue Maynor.”
“Oh, hell. Everybody lays Sue Maynor.”
“Guess so. I didn’t want him to. He can lay me and nobody else, the bastard.”
“Poor April,” Margo said. “Listen, honey, I’ve got an idea. Why not take off that dress, after all? Then you can stretch out on the couch here and I’ll massage your back. It’ll make you feel a hell of a lot better.”
“But I’ll be naked.”
“So what? I’ll strip down, too. Nobody is going to see us, April. They’re all in the goddam house laying each other. And there’s not a neighbor for five miles in any direction. Strip down, honey.”
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a little voice was telling her to for God’s sake not be a damned fool, because something fishy was going on. She chose not to hear the voice. Margo was a friend, a gentle and considerate friend. And Margo was going to rub her back, and it would make her feel wonderful.
What was wrong with that?
Nothing at all.