Chapter 18 Jane
EIGHTEEN
JANE
I wasn’t able to get off early from my shift at the restaurant, so I arrive at my aunt’s house in Elmhurst about an hour after the party starts.
My cousin Julia turned twenty-one today so my aunt is throwing her a huge birthday party combined with one of those pleasure party events, where a representative shows up with a bag full of sex toys to demonstrate and samples of edible lube to pass around for everyone to try.
Needless to say, my aunt—my dad’s sister—has always been the coolest mom I’ve ever known.
My own mom is great, too, but she’s more “lemonades and family picnics” than “margaritas and sex parties.”
I can hear the squeals and laughter from all the way out on the street as I make my way up the sidewalk to the front door.
My smile comes easy, as I’ve been on cloud nine for the last couple of weeks.
Chance and I have been great. Better than great.
Most weeknights he spends at my place, and then we spend the weekends at his.
Yesterday, I finally turned in my thesis, and he took me out to celebrate. We went to dinner at the Signature Room on the ninety-sixth floor of the John Hancock building and then hung out at Navy Pier and rode the Ferris wheel (where he may or may not have made me come with his hand up my dress).
All in all, I couldn’t be happier, and as much fun as I know I’ll have at Julia’s party, I can’t wait to see Chance later.
He’s coming to my place, since he’s in my area of the city for a job, and then he’s teaching me how to make microwavable s’mores—a bachelor staple according to him—and we’ll watch the new Jason Statham movie.
I gave him my spare key since I figured I’d be here pretty late, but maybe I can sneak out early without anyone noticing.
I let myself in, and I’m instantly bombarded with loud music, colored lights, and the smell of alcohol.
It’s like stepping into a nightclub in the middle of a suburban home.
The foyer is empty, and from the excited sounds coming from the back of the house, I’m assuming everyone is in the family room.
“Oh my God, Janey, you’re finally here!”
I turn to the right, where the dining room table is covered in enough bottles of liquor to serve an army of drunks for a week, and see Emily, Julia’s older sister.
It’s obvious she’s had a few already when she bum-rushes me in a hug that almost has us falling on our asses.
Luckily, I’m sober and able to steady us before we need an ambulance.
“Hey, Em,” I say, returning her hug before peeling her off. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Don’t be silly, you’re right on time. Wow, you look fantastic. Have you been working out?”
Only if you count the calories burned by having tons of sex. “No, but I tried a new makeup technique. I found a smoky eye tutorial on YouTube that doesn’t make me look like a raccoon,” I say with a wink.
She shakes her head. “No, it’s something else. I mean, your eyes look amazing, but…” She gasps and points at me accusingly. “Oh my God, you’re totally getting laid!”
I laugh and try to deny it, but I can feel the heat in my face making me a liar. “Okay, fine,” I admit, “I might have a pretty awesome thing going with a guy right now, but that’s all you’re getting out of me.”
“I knew it! I’m so happy for you, Janey. You deserve something awesome after that last prick. It’s about time you hopped back on the horse.”
Before Emily gets any more preachy, I change the subject. “How’s the birthday girl?”
“Fantastic and very, very drunk. Come on, let’s get you a drink and then you have to see what I got her. Hands down, it’s the best present here.”
“Okay, but only one drink,” I say as she pushes me into the dining room. “I drove and I can only stay for a couple of hours.”
She stops in the middle of pouring me a partially liquefied frozen margarita from the blender and looks at me like I just told her Santa isn’t coming this year. “Whaaaaaat? Janey, come on, why do you have to leave so early? You just got here.”
Thank you, Captain Obvious. I sigh dramatically and say, “I know, it totally sucks, but I have to be at work at three a.m.”—(no, I don’t)—“and I need at least a few hours of sleep if I hope to not pour coffee into anyone’s lap.”
My cousin makes a sound of disgust, but resumes pouring my drink. “When are you going to stop working your entire life away?”
“As soon as I can afford to. Tell you what, the day I can quit waitressing to supplement my income, you and Aunt Martha can throw me a party from dusk till dawn, just like this one, if you want.”
Her face lights up as she hands me the strawberry margarita. Clapping, she says, “Deal! And I’ll get you the same gift I got Julia.”
I laugh at her drunk-girl enthusiasm. “What is this amazing gift you keep talking about?” A chorus of excited screams rends the air, and I have to shout to be heard. “And what the hell is going on back there?”
“It’s my present to Julia! Come on, we’re missing out on all the fun,” she yells over the din and leads the way through the house to the great room in the back.
All I can see are the backs of women standing in a circle and cheering, and I half wonder if Aunt Martha hasn’t erected a Jell-O ring where naked men fight to the gelatin death. As crazy as it sounds, it’s not outside the realm of possibilities when it comes to my aunt.
Emily grabs my hand and pushes her way through the crowd, dragging me with her as I try not to spill my filled-to-the-brim drink.
When we break through the other side, I’m shocked at how many people are actually here.
There have to be at least fifty women ranging in their early twenties to late fifties around the perimeter of the room, some sitting on furniture and folding chairs with the rest standing to fill in the gaps.
It’s when my eyes land on a practically naked Austin that my stomach drops out. He singles out one of the squealing girls and sits her on the tufted square ottoman in the middle of the circle.
Emily leans in and squeals in my ear. “Strippers! Told you it’s the best gift ever. I saw these guys at a party I was at last month, and knew I had to get them for tonight. Are they not the hottest specimens you’ve ever seen?”
I’m unable to speak around the lump of nerves in my throat, but Em just laughs, probably thinking I’m struck dumb by the drool factor of her surprise.
I nervously look around the room, searching for Chance.
My heart stops when the crowd parts on the other side, but it picks up again when it ends up being a tattooed guy leading a second girl into the circle.
As he places her identically on the other side of the ottoman, I recognize the man as Roman. At least, I think it’s Roman.
Every time I’ve seen the straight-laced lawyer, he’s dressed either in a suit or preppy casual wear you’d see in an Eddie Bauer catalog, the perfect picture of money and sophistication.
But this Roman is like the other one’s evil twin.
His jet-black hair is sticking up like fingers have been plowing through it, diamond studs are in his earlobes, and tattoos cover almost every inch of his upper body and arms. As he and Austin start dancing for their captive audience of two, Roman sticks his tongue out, revealing a silver ball flashing in the lights.
His ears and his tongue are pierced? I briefly wonder what else might be pierced, but stop myself before my eyes drop to the front of his thin, white boxer briefs.
One thing is for sure, though. Roman isn’t the model country-club boy I’d originally thought. He’s the poster child for wild times and probably even wilder sex. Addison would eat him up and lick the plate clean.
As they start dancing, relief that Austin and Roman are the only two men here floods my veins.
I don’t think I’d handle it well to see Chance getting pawed by other women.
Taking several sips of my fruity drink, I decide to relax and enjoy the show along with the rest of the crowd.
Despite not doing anything for me, Chance’s friends are still fine specimens of the male form and dance like Channing Tatum.
The guys step up onto the ottoman with their feet on either side of their respective girls.
They’re both so tall that the girls have to look up to get an eyeful of what the men are packing, but then the problem is rectified when Austin and Roman clasp their right hands together and lean back, using each other for counter balance.
They bend their knees to bring their crotches eye-level, then use their free hands at the backs of the girls’ heads to pull them in close and grind on their faces.
Both of the girls’ hands go to the men’s butts, grabbing and squeezing, and the crowd goes absolutely nuts.
I laugh and shake my head as the guys eat up the reaction then jump down simultaneously.
Their moves are so in sync, I wonder how many times they’ve done this exact routine.
They each kiss the girls on the cheeks and then lead them back to their places in the circle before making the universal sign with their hands for the room to quiet down.
Austin, who’s wearing red boxer briefs with a yellow waistband and reads “Today I’m Your Fireman” on the ass, points to my cousin in her birthday tiara and sash. “It’s time for the birthday girl to get her birthday treat. Come here, darlin’.”
Again, the women cheer and get rowdy as Austin leads Julia center stage and sits her down on the ottoman.
Roman heads to the fireplace mantle where his phone and a speaker are set up like the one Chance has.
For as small as those things are, they pump out dance club quality sound.
He chooses something from a playlist and a new song starts up, all sexy bass and syncopated rhythms. The guys approach Julia and each straddle one of her legs as they perform body rolls so fluid they look virtually boneless.
Suddenly the music starts skipping like it’s a scratched CD instead of a digitally mastered track playing from a smartphone, then it stops altogether.
Boos rise up from the peanut gallery and Roman and Austin look at each other like they’re not sure what to do, but Austin manages to calm the masses in a matter of seconds.
“Ladies, ladies, it’s okay, we know what to do.” He looks at Roman and says, “Ruthless, whenever we need something fixed, what do we do?”
A devilish grin turns Roman—aka Ruthless—into a wicked panty-melter. “That’s easy. We call the handyman.”
Screams erupt in stereo, and I’m positive I’ve lost fifty percent of my hearing. Oh, God…no no no n—
“Ladies, put your hands together for Romeo the Handyman!”
The crowd parts to my left, and in struts the man I’ve been seeing, wearing the same coveralls he wore the first night we met. The women are going crazy, and the lust-struck look on my cousin’s face says she’d like to explore my boyfriend with nothing more than her tongue.
For the next bit of eternity, I watch with acid churning in my gut as Chance dances and methodically reveals more and more of his hard body while Julia rubs him down like her very life depends on mapping out his muscles.
His damp hair started off pulled back in a low pony, but he’s since ripped out the hair tie and now his shoulder-length locks are whipping across his face, adding another level of sexy to the already edible package.
I want to get drunk and make myself numb against the jealousy and angry proprietary feelings clawing at my insides.
I hate that I feel this way. This is his job—or one of them, at least. I’ve known all along that this is what he does sometimes on the weekends; it’s not like he’s been dishonest or kept this a secret. It’s how I met him, for Christ’s sake.
Down to only a small pair of blue boxer briefs with white handprints on the ass, Chance uncrosses Julia’s legs and yanks her butt to the edge of the ottoman.
Standing to the right of her, he bends to the left, placing his left shoulder on her left thigh with his head going between her thighs.
Then he pushes himself into a handstand, his shoulders braced on her thighs.
His line of sight right now is straight up my cousin’s skirt while he spreads his legs and gyrates his pelvis directly in front of her face.
Julia wears a look of awe and actually goes to grab my man’s cock. I’m torn between throwing up where I stand and breaking my cousin’s fingers one by one. I’m spared from doing either when Chance avoids her molestation, just barely, by rotating out of the position until he’s standing again.
But the dance isn’t over, and though I doubt it’ll get much worse than what he’s already done, I can’t continue to watch or I will do something to cause a scene.
I lean over to Emily, who’s still next to me, and yell directly into her ear so she can hear me.
I make an excuse about the drink not sitting well and ask her to tell Julia I wish her the best.
Just as I turn to leave, Austin tosses two cans of whipped cream to Chance, two to Roman, and grabs two for himself. I watch in wide-eyed horror as each of them make designs on their bodies with the fluffy dessert topping and offer to let a woman—in Chance’s case, Julia—lick it off.
As I push through the crowd and make my way out of the house, I realize I was wrong: things are definitely getting much worse.