I pushed her against the cold brick wall and put my mouth on hers while pressing my thigh between her legs.
“I love you,” I whispered. My hand was sticky with blood.
She returned my kiss, our tongues rolling together until Melinda pulled back.
“Why then,” she said, “are you going to make me go in there?” She nodded toward the billowing entrance of the Coast.
“Come on,” I said. “I feel so good. I feel like slumming. And if we don’t find any action in there” — I indicated the space in front of me with a grandiose sweep of my arm — “the entire Strip awaits us.” We stepped through the forced air plenum and into the clanging miasma of the casino.
A semi-attractive blonde with a very large chest caught my attention. She was sitting alone at a blackjack table.
“I’m going to the girls’ room,” Melinda shouted over the cacophony of bells and chimes that rang from the slot carousels. “I’ll catch up to you in a couple of minutes.”
I nodded and watched her meander off, as did most of the people she passed. The fishnet stockings had that effect.
I sat down next to the blonde and threw a hundred dollars on the table. The dealer set a short stack of chips in front of me as a cocktail waitress in a bad pirate costume appeared at my elbow.
“A double bullshot,” I said, placing a chip on her tray.
“What’s that?” said the blonde as she slurped at a frothy blender drink.
“It’s beef bouillon and vodka,” I said, peering at my cards.
She wrinkled her nose into a grimace. “Ewww! Why are you drinking that?” The end of her straw was coated in waxy orange lipstick.
“I’m hungry,” I said. After all, I was. I nodded yes to a hit from the dealer.
“That’s so gross,” she said.
“Fuck you,” I said. Maybe semi-attractive was too generous a description for her, stacked or not. The bad casino lighting wasn’t shoring up her odds either. “Now shut up and finish your snow cone.”
“Okay, I will,” she said. “And then you can.”
“I can what?” I said, rolling my eyes. The waitress set down my drink with exactly the speed a pre-tip buys. I placed another chip on her tray and turned back to the blonde.
“You can fuck me,” she said as the dealer flipped over his jack and ace.
“Who the fuck are you?” With characteristically perfect timing and an equally perfect brunette, led by the hand, Melinda intervened. The blonde sized up the two women and picked up her drink. “I’m more than you could handle anyway,” she said, then collected her remaining chips and walked away, flipping us off.
“Tim, this is Teena,” said Melinda, not even looking after the blonde. “She’s new in town. Just got a job as a waitress over at the Peppermill.”
“After I finish the training course,” said Teena. “Of course,” she added, giggling at her own quip.
“Right,” said Melinda. “After you finish the training course.” She wrapped an arm around Teena’s waist and turned to me. “She’s coming home with us for a nightcap.” One look at Teena and I could see that Melinda had bribed her with the coke she always kept in her purse.
“Hi, Tim. I saw you walk in and thought you were really cute. I’m really glad to meet you,” said Teena. She seemed like a willing little lamb, naïve and very sexy. Exactly what I’d had in mind.
“With that perky attitude,” I said, “my bet is you’ll sail right through that training course.” Teena gave me a prom queen smile. Perfect, just like everything else so far.
“So what do you say, Tim?” asked Melinda, though she already knew the answer. “Nightcaps at our place?”
Our place. “That sounds just fine,” I said. “First let’s have a drink for the road.” I pushed a chip toward the dealer and steered the girls around to the bar. “Will you be riding with us, Teena, or do you have your own car?”
“Teena will follow us out to the house,” said Melinda, lifting an eyebrow down the bar.
I smiled at Teena.
“What can I get for you?” said the bartender, one eye eclipsed by a fake black eye patch.
Melinda looked at me. “Make a wish,” she said.
I motioned Teena to park next to the Jag in the garage. Melinda took Teena inside to show her around while I looked over Teena’s Honda and then locked up the garage. I went in the back door of the house and found Melinda and Teena necking in the kitchen. I didn’t seem to disturb them.
“Save some for me, Mel,” I said. “Anyone want a drink?”
“Tequila,” said Melinda.
“Got any champagne?” asked Teena.
I headed for the sideboard to crack open a new bottle of bourbon.
“Join us upstairs when you’re ready, Timmers,” Melinda shouted down the hall. She was anxious despite her cool veneer. It had been a long time for her too. I was eager to do a number on Teena, but something vague seemed to be holding me back. Fuck that, I thought, and took the longest drink of bourbon in my life.
By the time I got up to the bedroom, Melinda’s face was buried between Teena’s legs. Teena seemed a little dazed but was holding up her end quite well, no doubt aided by the small mountain of coke next to her on the nightstand. Melinda saw me and bolted upright. She was covered with sweat.
“Fuck her, Tim,” she said. “Fuck her proper.”
Teena rolled over and did another line, then she lay back on the bed. “Yeah, fuck me,” she said.
I did. I was rough but she took it. When I got off her, bruises started to form on the insides of her thighs. I reached for the bourbon and watched her and Melinda work on each other. I felt strange. The Tik still moved through me, though now at an even keel. I drank more bourbon.
I drank for a long time.
Melinda screamed and dug her nails into Teena’s skin. Teena threw her head back on the pillow. Melinda rolled over and beckoned me. My head was spinning. I placed my hands on Teena’s knees and opened her as Melinda reached for the nightstand. I centered all my consciousness on Teena. I focused my whole body on my mouth, and my mouth on her. Melinda moved on the bed. I heard a whisper of rushing air. Teena stiffened and bucked under me. A hot spray rained across my back. Something clinked against the wall. I squeezed Teena’s waist with all my strength. Tears came to my eyes. Teena’s body went limp.
I lay hugging her, my breath so fast. The room was quiet. After a time I looked up at Melinda. She smiled and wiped the blood from her eyes. She got off the bed and picked up the straight razor, which she had thrown against the wall. She dropped it in the nightstand drawer.
“You okay, Timmers?” she asked. “I know it’s been awhile.” She paused, then reached back into the drawer. “Maybe it’s time for another shot.”
“No,” I said. “Not yet.”
I picked up the bourbon and had a sip. Melinda closed the drawer and turned toward the bathroom.
“Suit yourself, but we shouldn’t wait too long,” she said. “I’m going to clean up. Will you take care of that?” She nodded at the blood-soaked bed and the still body, naked and staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.
“Of course I will,” I said. “Don’t I always?”
I finished the bourbon as Melinda closed the bathroom door behind her. Out the window, dawn announced itself quietly with a barely perceptible change of color in the east. A car started off in the distance and I reflexively glanced at the garage door. It was still locked. I really didn’t worry. Melinda and I had always led a charmed existence. I sighed and put on my pants.
“Wash my back, Tim,” Melinda called from the shower when she heard me enter the bathroom. I opened the curtain and soaped up my hands. I massaged her back as I washed it.