Thirteen #3
“Could’ve done without the details,” she mumbled and took another sip of wine, or rather a gulp, because they were past the sipping portion of the conversation.
“To be fair, your couch got our first time, but since then we’ve also made use of Tegan’s apartment and Brooke’s bathroom,” Sawyer said.
“My bathroom?” Brooke covered her face with her hands. “I mean, how was that even … ugh, actually, yeah. I’m on Team Move-On with Gillian now.”
“I’m feeling left out,” Daphne mused. “I haven’t had sex in any of your homes. Or anywhere in the city of Buffalo for that matter.”
“And you have a bed in your office,” Robin said. “I mean technically, Gillian landed on it first, so she—”
“No.” Gillian cut her off commandingly. “We’re not doing this again. Five chilis to Robin, and someone ask another question right this instant.”
Tegan took the box of cards quickly.
Robin added her own score to the tally column, then glanced at her, dark eyes concerned. “Do you hate us?”
Gillian sighed heavily and stared at her friend, checking her emotions even though she already knew the answer. “No. I may be in the market for a new couch, but I don’t need new friends. I could never hate any of you, but I do think I hate this game.”
“Give it time, Boss,” Tegan said. “You haven’t even had your turn yet. You might love blowing our minds for a change.”
Gillian shook her head, in no hurry to test that theory.
For the first time in a long time, she felt grateful to be the oldest person in the room.
Daphne laughed at the shock on Tegan’s face as Brooke admitted she’d had sex in a car. Clearly, it hadn’t been with her current girlfriend.
“In college.” Brooke tried for nonchalance, but the pink in her cheeks gave away her discomfort. “I didn’t know any of you yet.”
“Ew.” Robin scrunched up her nose. “The ex-husband.”
Sawyer rolled their eyes, then to Daphne added, “Not ‘ew’ because Brooke’s bisexual. We’re allies of women who date dudes … provided the dudes aren’t philandering asshats named ‘Chad.’”
“A fair line to draw.” Daphne felt no need to go further down that line of logic and snagged a card. “It’s my turn to ask the question.”
Sawyer’s smile spread. “All the chilis, please.”
Daphne’s expression matched Sawyer’s. “This has the potential to count as continuing education for me. What’s your go-to sex toy?”
“To use on someone else or to have used on me?”
“Wow.” Daphne chuckled. “Didn’t expect to have that turned back around on me.”
“That’s what she said,” Robin called.
“Walked right into that.” Daphne shook her head. “Is both okay to ask?”
“Both is always valid with me.” Sawyer kicked back, stretching their lanky form and casting a little side-eye at Robin.
“But the answer may be the same on both sides of the equation. I’m a strap-on guy, though I don’t like to think of them as toys.
They’re tools, and I have a wide array of them to fit different joys.
You wouldn’t own one Allen wrench or screwdriver.
I have a strap-on for everyday use, one for travel, one that packs well for spontaneous adventures, and one for special occasions, which requires a good bit of preparation for.
I pride myself on knowing when, where, and how to use each of them to their highest purpose.
That’s not something you say about toys. ”
Robin gave a hum of assent. “Anyone can play with a toy. It takes skill to wield a tool.”
“I can appreciate the point of toys versus tools.” Tegan leaned forward and locked eyes with Robin. “But doesn’t the verbiage make it harder for you to keep a cool head when encouraging a client to make use of all the tools they have available?”
Brooke groaned, but Robin burst out laughing. “Not at all! If I’m feeling good vibes in a session, I’ll tell them to use ‘every tool they have in their box.’ I mean it in all ways, and I pray they take it that way.”
Gillian dropped her head to the table with a thud. “Why can’t we have nice things?”
Daphne cackled. “I think you broke the valedictorian.”
“Come on, Gilly.” Robin patted her back. “You’ve seriously never thought about all the ‘tools’ and ‘boxes’ talk?”
“No one else thinks that, Robin.”
“I think it.” Sawyer snickered.
“I have, too,” Tegan admitted, “but you sort of get numb to it in grad school.”
Gillian turned to Brooke. “Please save me.”
Brooke shrugged. “I can honestly say I’ve never thought it in a session. I usually try to say, ‘tools for coping,’ or ‘tools at your disposal,’ though, because, as previously mentioned, I used to date men. You’ve seriously never heard a tool/box double entendre?”
“No. All bisexual allyship aside, I work hard to never think about tools anywhere near boxes in anything other than the most professional sense.”
“That’s why you’re the boss, Boss.” Robin raised her glass. “To Gillian, the best of us!”
“The best of us,” the rest of the room echoed, everyone but Daphne, who couldn’t quite bring herself to do so, even if she did feel for the woman now more than usual.
She watched Gillian polish off another glass of wine and couldn’t help but wonder how many she’d had specifically to withstand this lack of decorum at her carefully constructed dinner party.
After the night when the two of them had hugged, Daphne had often wondered about Gillian’s decorum.
Her poise had always seemed effortless. The perfect face, the perfect body, the perfect respectable business, friends, home, and even the ability to perfect a lasagna.
What did she sacrifice for it all? Clearly, she’d missed out on a sick sense of humor and capacity for sexual innuendo, but was there more?
The way she’d finally folded her ridged frame into Daphne’s arms spoke to some kind of invisible weight on those proud shoulders, but, then again, Gillian’s pride seemed plenty strong enough to support its own weight for decades.
Allowing it to crack now seemed a big ask.
“Who’s next?” Tegan looked from Gillian to Daphne. “Aren’t you two the same age?”
“I’m older,” Daphne said flatly, “by twenty-six days.”
Gillian’s green eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”
“We were in the same driver’s ed class the summer before junior year. I passed my test first and told everyone you weren’t ready to take yours.”
“It’s based on birth date, not skill.”
Daphne laughed. “It’s the only time in our entire lives I finished a class before you. Let me have my moment twenty-four years after the fact.”
Gillian shook her head, but the corners of her lips curled up. “Fine. You finished driver’s ed before I did. It’s the least of all the absurdities I’ve allowed tonight, but surely not my last. Now I have to answer a ridiculously personal question because you’re twenty-six days older?”
“It is a very small age difference,” Brooke mused. “Unlike Gillian and I, who are a full thirteen months apart.”
“Rub it in,” Gillian grumbled. “Your fortieth is next year, and you’ll get back everything you dished out.”
“I’m between you two,” Sawyer said, “and I love birthdays, but I agree, Daphne and Gillian are statistically tied. Let’s make them answer the same question.”
“I love that spin on the game.” Tegan grabbed the question box. “We can compare and contrast.”
Daphne shook her head. “You’ll find more contrast than comparison.”
“So, you consent?” Brooke asked.
“Sure. Why not?”
“I could think of a million reasons why not,” Gillian said slowly.
“It’ll end this game faster,” Sawyer nudged.
“Sold. Pick a question and put us out of our misery.”
Daphne laughed. “Give us something mid-level.”
Tegan scanned the card. “Here’s one. The subject has come up a few times. How far did you go on prom night?”
Robin laughed evilly. “The prom story they keep dodging.”
“I’m not dodging,” Gillian said quickly, then shot Daphne a look that literally everyone in the room noticed.
“There’s something,” Brooke said. “You say nothing happened, then you look at her like she better not tell us what happened.”
Gillian rolled her eyes, but even Daphne could read the tension straining the muscles in her neck and jaw. Something strangely protective kicked up in her, but why? What about the memory tortured Gillian so much? “Nothing happened.”
Everyone turned to her as if waiting for more.
“I’m afraid we’re going to earn zero chilis, because we were at the same prom, both without dates. I can tell you what we wore and how terrible the DJ was, and no one spiked the punch, which was disappointing, but those are all the details to share.”
Sawyer frowned. “If that’s true, why’s Gillian so uptight about it?”
“I’m not uptight,” Gillian said in the most counter-performative way.
“She always seems uptight to me.” Daphne shrugged. “Unless she met up with some other lesbian I never knew existed, nothing happened that’s worthy of this game. We didn’t even kiss.”
Gillian snorted. “You made sure of that.”
There it was. Like someone had spilled blood in the conversational waters, every head in the room turned in unison.
Gillian seemed to realize it, too, and too late. She closed her eyes, took a slow, deep breath through her nose, then parted her perfect lips to release it slowly. Daphne couldn’t help but marvel at her ability to self-regulate even though she still had no idea why she needed to.
Robin, on the other hand, leaned forward with a sharkish grin. “Now, someone better say something, or there will be zero chili peppers awarded.”
“I don’t care about the game,” Gillian said evenly, then seemed to think harder about her next words, “but I’m growing weary of the allusions and innuendo, and since shame thrives in dark places, I suppose I should shine a light on the memory for my own sanity.”
“We challenge by choice,” Brooke offered gently.
Gillian threw her a grateful glance before squaring her shoulders and turning to Daphne. “I’m not sure that’s ever been a value the two of us share. You’ve offered me considerable challenge with little consent. I suppose you’d say the same for me.”