Water Damage by Vivian McInerny

Author:Vivian McInerny
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: love, relationships, emotional, art and artists, chic lit, life abroad, life adventure, 1970s 70s seventies, innocence and experience
Publisher: Vivian McInerny

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Before the dessert, Wilcox announced that we would all change seats. Several people groaned and laughed. I learned Wilcox was famous for this sort of thing. At one of his dinner parties, he’d challenged each guest to a Truth or Dare. Another time he hosted what he called a Come as You Aren’t Party where everyone was expected to dress as their opposite gender. For that event, Camellia had hired a makeup artist from the Globe Theater to apply a real hair beard and mustache to her face.

“What’s the method this time, Wilcox,” asked a man sitting several seats down.

Wilcox explained a rather complicated, random, system whereby one was supposed to switch places with someone whose last name began with the same letter as your first name, and everyone called out to everyone else for the spelling of their names which was, after a few glasses of wine, surprisingly difficult. People chatted and giggled and acted silly about it all, but in the end, I switched places with a Lenard Evans just as the woman who’d been sitting beside him figured out whom she should trade with, and I found myself sitting beside none other than Wilcox.

“Ahh, sweet fate,” he sighed as he pulled the chair up to the table between a forty-year-old woman with far too much makeup and me.

“Fate has dealt you a fair hand once again, Richard Wilcox,” she said slyly.

Wilcox took her hand in both of his and kissed her fingers. They were long and thin and tapered like the candles flickering around us. She parted his lips with her middle finger then slid it deep into his mouth. Wilcox made a sucking sound and she groaned suggestively and smiled. Wilcox looked at me, his lips still taking in her finger. His eyes shone a spooky green in the candlelight. I looked around the table but no one else seemed to notice. So much wine had been poured. I promised myself no more.

A few guests remained standing. Either they hadn’t found someone to change with, or didn’t like the choices they were given. A middle-aged woman with a short dress and long dark hair wandered over to an overstuffed chair against the far wall. She sat the wrong way on the chair, facing the back of it, and I couldn’t figure out what she was doing. Then she slid deep into it until her back was on the seat cushion, her long hair nearly touched the floor. She pushed her butt up against the chair back and her long legs stuck straight up, high-heeled feet demurely crossed at the ankles and resting on the wall. Her dress fell up around her hips. No matter how drunk she was, I think she knew how good her legs looked.

On either side of her, two men in dinner jackets stood talking over her good leather heels. They sucked cigarettes and argued aiming glowing embers at each other to emphasize points. The cloud of smoke surrounding them appeared as the aftermath of their fiery words.

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