The Mammoth Book of Erotica presents The Best of Marilyn Jaye Lewis by Marilyn Jaye Lewis

Author:Marilyn Jaye Lewis
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781472100498
Publisher: Constable & Robinson

After Hours

Marilyn Jaye Lewis

Whenever I’m out with Jack I feel like I’m nothing but white trash. I revel in that feeling, though, and only he brings it out of me. He’s known me too long and too well.

“Here, have a cigarette,” he offers.

I take it even though I no longer smoke. It’s an unfiltered Camel, no less. “Jesus, are you trying to kill me, or what?” I lean my head closer to him and let him light the cigarette with his Zippo. I inhale. It’s harsh and I feel like choking, but something about it is reminiscent of sex with him and I like it. I keep puffing on it and I get the feeling I’ll probably smoke all night.

“Should we bring along a bottle of something?” he asks. “It would probably be polite.”

“If you want to,” I say. “But if we buy something too expensive then I always end up wanting to hoard it just for us.”

“Then let’s pick up a bottle of something cheap for show, and a fifth of something special to keep between ourselves.”

“That sounds like a perfect idea. Make people think we’re more generous than we really are.”

When we arrive at the party, it’s already in full swing. We know just about everybody there and I’m getting a little bored with it – everything always being so predictably chic. What happened to those years when everything about going to parties seemed new and maybe even a little enticingly strange? Even when you did know everybody there?

“Remember when a Friday in New York was wildly exciting?” I ask him under my breath.

He looks at me and smiles wryly. “No. I can’t remember back that far.”

Jack and I are fuck buddies. We circle into each other’s orbits when we’re between significant others. Neither one of us is bold enough to take that step into marriage like almost everyone we know has already done – some of them, more than once. Beneath our respectable careers, our healthy incomes, and our trendy fashions, we’re both still hopelessly immature when it comes to making serious commitments that involve the destinies of other people.

“Alison, hello there!”

It’s my boss, Susan Krieger, the well-known architect, coming toward us. She’s the female half of the very wealthy couple who’s throwing this shindig. She looks astonishingly attractive. I always forget how good she’s capable of looking when she’s not seriously harried from too much work.

“Hi, Susan. You remember Jack? He used to work with us at the firm? In drafting?”

“Of course, Jack. How are you? So nice of you to come.”

Susan is only slightly older than we are, but her fully loaded husband, Derek Krieger, has a good twenty-five years on most of us, and has more money than any of us can possibly imagine. He founded the Krieger Designs architectural firm in the late 60s and has been at the top of his game since the bulk of us were still in college. He’s not exactly handsome, but for a straight guy, he’s always put an extraordinary amount of effort into maintaining his outward appearance.

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