Chapter 21
It was the other two couples, and brief introductions were passed around.
Roan had a vague memory of seeing the women in passing.
Avigayle was a third-year resident, and her husband was a slim, dark-skinned man.
Lillian was a first-year pediatrics attending, and she brought along her red-headed fiancé.
Not one of them batted an eye when Willow instructed them on the best place to position their gifts on the table as to not disrupt the feng shui of their gathering.
Odder and odder that the newcomers acted like this was normal.
Especially when Avigayle announced they had brought gluten-free vegan pizza in a box he recognized from the very dairy-oriented kosher Kinnert Pizza shop.
After Drew had acted as runner to hang up their coats too, the degree of the conspiracy was even more obvious. All the women wore a version of pink and turquoise.
The same color of his décor, and Clarissa’s favorites.
A woman wearing pink wasn't considered particularly abnormal, and, naturally, Tank wouldn't find it suspicious. Other than Roan being whipped—except he had it wrong about which woman he was whipped for.
Tank was reeling from the sudden reversal of fortune as Clarissa clapped her hands. “In honor of my leukemia patient’s recommendation, we’re going to watch Sword Sorceress.”
Also not in the plan. When Roan had put this party together, he’d thought it would be food, presents, and then chit-chat until they got bored or he got too horny and kicked everyone else out.
Yet he found himself sitting on his couch, with Clarissa on one side, Willow on the other, and Tank sitting next to her. The Molla’s had claimed the loveseat, and Drew had set up three more chairs for himself and the other couple—all as far away from Tank as possible.
Roan’s poor body wasn’t having a good time. It knew the lights were turned down and that Clarissa, sans panties, was sitting next to it. Putting his arm around her was his natural instinct, only slightly above his other natural instinct of exploring under her skirt.
Except he couldn’t. He had to hold Willow’s hand.
Worse, as the opening titles played, Clarissa rested her hand on his thigh—out of sight from Tank but visible to the rest of the group.
Even that simple touch was dangerous, making his dick harden. He wanted to lick her neck, kiss her—
Then Willow paused the movie. “What do you think about the societal implications for women in this feudal authoritarian warlord government?”
Roan forced his brain to take in whatever was occurring onscreen. A tall, dark-haired, buxom woman in a leather skirt and corset, brandishing a sword, was frozen on his TV. A horde of barbarians in black were advancing on her.
Rather than call out the ridiculousness of the bonkers question, the other two couples gave serious answers to the bonkers question. Roan was vaguely aware that Drew got up during that and brought over a bowl of salted Skinny Pop popcorn, an actual non-GMO, vegan, gluten-free, kosher food.
His concentration wasn’t the best since he could feel Clarissa laughing beside him, leaving her hand right where it was. He couldn't be pissed at her when his cock was dying for her to reach out and give him a good squeeze.
Actually, when his fake girlfriend passed him the bowl of popcorn, his actual girlfriend did exactly that.
He almost choked on the popcorn he hadn't swallowed. What ring of hell was he in? Fake girlfriend tormenting his bestie on one side, and Clarissa doing the same to him in a very different way.
Worse, she was teasing him in full view of everyone except Tank.
Tank interrupted what must have been a scintillating debate on the government of this fantasy society, “Can we skip the political commentary and just watch the movie?”
“I suppose so.” Willow made a show of reluctantly restarting the movie. “
As the movie resumed, he gave Clarissa a quick side eye and caught her grinning at his discomfort—and she fucking winked at him and squeezed him harder.
She had his number, all right. This scenario pressed every single button he had. She was playing her good girl persona to extreme levels in front of her brother while daring to tempt him. A total plea to be punished the next time he got her alone.
Which he’d have to do if this damn birthday party ever ended.
Willow paused the movie again mid-cavalry battle. “Do you think they're using real horses or CGI ones? Would this be a pro or con for the movie industry to replace all horse occupations with fake horses?”
Roan decided he’d better try to pay attention this time because if he didn’t join in, Tank would notice something was very wrong.
Or more wrong than the responses to Willow’s question.
“The horses are unlikely to be motivated by the economics of the movie industry,” Lillian said.
“They might care if they get sent to the glue factory or... eaten.” Sean got choked up. “So cruel.”
“Oh, baby boy, don't cry. You're so tenderhearted,” Lillian patted him on the cheek. “Do we need to stop the movie?”
“I think I'll be okay. Those poor horses,” Sean buried his face in her shoulder—probably dying of laughter.
“What does he do exactly for a job? Work for PETA?” Tank must have felt his balls shrinking at the display.
“He's a Cleveland Narcotics detective.” Lillian rubbed her poor, suffering fiancé's back in sympathy.
“Right,” Tank couldn't quite process what he was hearing. “Do we have beer?”
“No. I bought a six pack of gluten-free wine coolers,” Drew volunteered, a total lie on multiple fronts. “Need one?”
“Are they vegan and alcohol free? Nevermind. Can we get back to the movie?” Tank sounded resigned.
“Not yet, we haven't finished discussing the effects of the horses. It is possible horse meat would be the next super meat, especially if it has a lower carbon footprint than beef?” Avigayle kept the conversation going.
Which was hilarious since Roan understood the Mollas kept kosher and would have never eaten any part of a horse.
“That's an interesting line of thought to explore.
We could create an algorithm that measures perception of the emotional connection to horses if they were replaced.
Would we feel less empathy for them and be more open to them as new meat if audiences understood the 'horses' were never in any peril?” Yeshi added more fuel to the fire.
“Let me guess, you're a vegan firefighter,” Tank said, living through what had to have been a different ring of hell.
“Nah, I'm a computer security specialist,” Yeshi didn't actually deny the vegan part.
“Explains a lot. Desk jockey.”
“He wasn't always behind a desk. My hunny-bunny was in Sayret.” Avigayle might have been able to give Clarissa a run for wide-eye innocence.
“Oh.” That shut Tank up. He, like Roan, recognized Sayret as one of the Israel Defense Force's black ops commando units. If the man wanted to talk about empathy for real versus fake horses, it wasn't because he was a data loving wimp.
“So, baby, what do you think about horses being consumed by humans instead of having legitimate jobs in movies?” Willow asked.
It took Clarissa pinching his leg to cue him in that the question was for him. He was the only one who hadn't participated in the conversation.
“I believe Willow makes a good point.” His neutral comment earned another pinch, informing him he needed to do better. “Maybe we should ask the horses how they feel?”
That must have been a satisfactory—though crazy—answer, because Clarissa patted his dick instead.
“Are you serious?” Tank was dumbfounded. “What drugs are they mixing in the water here? You think we should get the opinions of the horses?”
“Why can't he be serious? Horses are very intelligent,” Willow said. “Humanity has always underestimated the neurological processing power of non-human organisms. We shouldn't assume all creatures that aren't homo sapiens aren't sentient.”
“If that were true, we wouldn't grow them on farms to ride them or eat them in this CGI future,” Tank huffed at her.
“You mean enslaved on farms.” Willow grabbed at the popcorn bowl like she was about to throw it at Tank.
“I agree with Willow. It's great that she's advocating to question the status quo of free choice.” Clarissa stood and intercepted the bowl before violence occurred. “Right, Roan?”
The two roommates had turned to face him, devilish twinkles in their eyes. Was this what the roommates were like when they were together outside of the hospital? No wonder Clarissa kept hustling out of their house.
And this might have been why Simone had refused to come. She took a hard line on the sin of lying, and he couldn't tell who was suffering more—him or Tank.
Effective on both fronts, though he knew it was a show. Tank, however, would universally hate Willow by now, thus guaranteeing he'd avoid any interaction with her in the future.
Which meant Roan had to be all in too. “Yes. I've learned so much from dating her. I’m so lucky.”
Since they hadn't opened the presents yet, he had a growing suspicion the ladies were just getting started. Underestimating them would be a very poor idea as Tank was about at his own peril.