Chapter 11 The Dinner Party
the dinner party
Jax
Morgan invited me over to her house for a dinner party tonight, and if it is anything like the Sunday football party at her house, I knew what I was walking into.
However, it was the opposite. Only a few of her friends that were at the football party were there, except they were dressed up.
There were other people as well, that I didn’t know yet, as well as some people who looked to know only Morgan.
After introductions and handshakes, I learned that the dinner party was a different friend group aside from the two couples who I met previously. Jenny was here, with a tall, slender guy who looked to be mesmerized to be in the same room as I was to Jenny’s annoyance.
There was a delicious dinner spread and several empty bottles of wine spread out over every surface. I don’t know how much I’ve drank, but I know that I’ve filled my glass up generously on more than one occasion.
An hour and half after we finished eating, and I know that had surpassed my limit for drinking as well as socializing.
I prefer to keep to myself in my off-time, however hanging out with Morgan has increased the amount of peopling that I’ve done in such a short time.
I’ve also learned that being wine drunk is different from drinking beer or hard liquor.
My mouth is more dry, so I feel like I need to keep drinking to whet my palate and I also feel as if I need to have a full glass, otherwise, it looks like I’m not drinking.
“So, you get together with friends every Sunday for a party, and then you also have dinner parties?” I ask, realizing that there was a slight slur to my s’s.
“I like to stay social.”
“How long do these dinner parties last?” I ask, noticing that no one has left, and that pretty much everyone is still drinking.
“It’s pretty much over, sometimes people linger and stay until late. Why, you thinking about leaving?” Morgan asks.
Anything but that. I think to myself.
“Not by any means, I may have to crash here though.”
“Of course,” she smiles.
We’re sitting together on one of the couches.
My hand is resting on her knee, as she’s leaning against me.
I’m a little fuzzy, but I still am holding onto most of my faculties.
I’m torn between a conversation with the guy beside me, Frankie, and the patterns that Morgan lazily draws into my thigh that is diverting my attention to the touch.
Most of dinner, I had conversations with others with Morgan’s hand absently shifting up my thigh, and with each pass, my heart almost stopped.
Is this part of the show that we’re putting on for the public?
I don’t think anyone can see under the table.
But, I’m not complaining. She’s kissed my cheeks a few times, and then a few times caught me off guard with a kiss on the lips.
Again, is that a part of the scheme? My mind is playing tricks on me with what’s for real and what’s an an act.
Or am I thinking too much into it and projecting what my subconscious wants versus what is potentially real?
Fuck. I’m thinking too much about this. It must be all the drinking that I’ve done tonight.
I don’t normally drink as much as I have today during the regular season.
A few people have trickled out, but there is still a large faction of people huddled in the living room.
Morgan gets up from the couch, and pulls at my hand. She steers me toward the kitchen area, leaving me at the counter as she grabs something out of the fridge. She leans into me as she looks over to the couch.
“We’re going to start making out.” She declares.
“Excuse me?” my eyes practically bulge out of my head.
“I think if we started getting super mushy, the last of these guys will get the hint that we want to be alone and leave.” She whispers, her breath tickling my ear.
“Why can’t we just ask them to go?” I ask the more obvious question.
“We could, but I think this way will play into the relationship better.” She explains.
Well shit. I shouldn’t fight her on this. But am I ready for a make-out? That’s extra tongue. And we haven’t gone there yet.