“You don’t have to dress up on my account,” Celia told her. “I’m only across the hall. And I’ll be wearing my jammies as well.”
“A pajama party huh?” Laura said. “Sounds like fun. I’ll be right over.”
“Okay. See you then.”
She hung up the phone and then went to her travel bag, which she had yet to unpack. She rummaged around in it and found a pair of baggy gray cotton shorts and a long t-shirt with a faded picture of Winne the Poo on it. She pulled the shorts over her legs, not bothering with underwear, and the t-shirt over her head, not bothering with a bra. She washed her hands with soap and water in the bathroom sink. As she was drying them on the hotel towel, she heard knocking on the door.
She put her eye to the peephole and verified it was Laura out there. She then opened the door and let her in. The sax player was a little bleary-eyed as well. Her hair was down and uncombed. She was dressed in a ratty green t-shirt with a picture of a kiwi bird on it and a faded pair of black sweatpants. Her socks were plain white. The way her small breasts jiggled as she entered told Celia that she had not bothered donning a bra either. She took a moment to admire the sight surreptitiously. Ever since she started having sex with Suzie, she found herself appreciating the female body and its attributes on more than a strictly aesthetic level.
“What are you drinking?” Celia asked her as they walked into the suite’s sitting room, where the bar was.
“I don’t know,” Laura said. “What are you going to have?”
“I’m thinking a vodka and tonic,” she said. “They have some of that new stuff that Jake introduced me to: Grey Goose.”
“Oh yeah,” Laura said with a nod. “That stuff is pretty smooth. I’m surprised they have it here in Spain. I thought it was just in the states.”
“This hotel is known for catering to Americans,” Celia said, walking over to the bar.
“Oh, I guess that makes sense. I’ll take one of those as well.”
“Two Grey Geese and tonics coming up,” Celia said, pulling down two water tumblers.
They sat down at the dining room table to sip their drinks and peruse the room service menu. Since the hotel catered heavily to American tourists there was plenty of American cuisine to choose from. They both chose instead to order some Spanish cuisine since they were, after all, in Spain and neither of them had ever been in the country before or sampled its food. They both went with the paella, a rice dish made with chicken and various peppers. Celia made the call, ordering the dinner, a few appetizers (in case she got hungry later) and a bottle of local white wine. They were able to down two goose and tonics apiece before the knock on the door came.
Laura, who was not as recognizable as Celia, answered the door while Celia stepped into the other room to be out of sight. She let the server in and watched as he set up their plates on the dining room table and opened the wine for them. She then tipped him with a one thousand peseta note—the equivalent of about five dollars US—and thanked him in Spanish for his effort.
“Food’s on!” she yelled to Celia once he was gone.
They both found the paella to be quite spicy but delicious. They ate the entire meal and finished the bottle of wine. After setting the dinner dishes out in the hallway for pickup, Celia made them each another goose and tonic and they went out onto the small balcony. The sun was low in the sky but had not set yet and the breeze was pleasant. They could see the main avenue in front of the hotel, which was still heavy with foot and vehicular traffic. They sat down in the reclining chairs and watched night approach Spain’s largest city.
“I wish we had some cigars,” Celia said. “I could really go for one about now.”
“Me too,” Laura agreed. “Maybe you can get Larry working on that tomorrow.”
“I will put it on my list,” she said.
“Ask him if he can score a little pot too,” she said. “I know we can’t travel with it, but if he could get me just enough for the six days we’re here, that would be nice.”
“I’ll ask him,” she promised.
“You would think they have good pot in Spain, wouldn’t you? I mean, it’s a warm country, kind of tropical in places. Isn’t that where good pot likes to grow?”
“I do not know enough about the subject to speak with authority,” Celia said. “But I am certain there is pot for sale somewhere in Madrid. And if there is, Larry should be able to find it.”
“He does have a nose for sniffing out black market items,” Laura said.
“As any good tour manager should,” Celia said.
They talked of inconsequential things mostly, with occasional brief forays into the subject of Greg and Mindy and Grand Oldfellow. Celia was more amused than anything else about the stories circulating in the entertainment media about how Greg was trying to wrestle custody of the infant from the unfit mother (he most certainly was not, and Celia did not have to be told this to know it to be true). They drank two more goose and tonics as they talked and watched night conquer the city. By the time they went back inside, both were fairly tipsy.
“One more?” Celia asked, holding up her empty glass.
“I think I’m going to pass,” Laura said. “I’m going to go back to my room and take care of a little business.”
“A little business?” She had no clue what Laura was talking about.
Laura giggled. “Yeah. You know? Personal business.”
Understanding washed over her. She felt herself flush a bit with arousal as the imagery popped into her mind. “Ohhhh,” she said with a smile. “That kind of personal business. I tried to conduct a little of that kind of business myself earlier.”
“Oh yeah?” Laura asked, her eyes shining a bit.
“Yeah,” Celia said sourly. “It didn’t work out for me.”
“You’ve reached the line, huh?” Laura asked sadly. This was something they had talked about before—usually while drinking. The line was the point where self-pleasure no longer relieved the tension, where you had to find an actual partner of some kind or learn to live with the frustration. Celia had not been up against the line since the night she seduced Suzie that first time.
“I’ve reached the line,” Celia said with a nod. “I’m not sure how I’m going to relieve it this time, to tell you the truth. Suzie is four thousand miles away from me and I’m not one to just go pick up some random guy.”
“I’m getting pretty close myself,” Laura said. “Ever since Njord outed us, I don’t dare use my normal relief valve. And Jake is not in a position to fly out to visit.” She sighed. “What can you do?”
“Exactly,” Celia said sadly.
And then a strange little smile appeared on Laura’s face. “Maybe there’s something that we can do,” she said softly.
Celia looked at her sharply. Surely, she was not going to suggest... that, was she? “What do you mean?” she asked carefully.
“Well ... maybe it’s just because I’m a little drunk and a lot horny, but the sight of your boobies bouncing around under your shirt has gotten me kind of hot.”
“Have they?” Celia asked, licking her lips a little, both fearful and excited about where this conversation was heading.
“Like you would not believe,” Laura said.
“Okay,” Celia said, making note that Laura’s nipples were now visibly protruding against the inside of her kiwi-bird shirt. “And how does that help your situation? You’re not going to suggest that you and I ... you know...”
“Not at all,” Laura said. “The idea is appealing, but I don’t think we should do that.”
“Then what should we do?” Celia asked, noticing that her nipples were now getting hard as well.