The road rumbles as Brad turns onto Picnic road, following the robotic instructions of his cell phone.
"Jesus, this gravel is no picnic to me," he jokes, elbowing me and urging a chuckle.
He's cute when he laughs and he knows it. I think I wasn't supposed to notice the way he messed his dark hair and turned his eyes up to the sunlight with a shining smile, but I did. Our third 'date' had been going well thus far. I don't know. Do drive through tacos and making fun of banal pop music on the way to his friends' Christmas party count as 'well'? Does that even count as a date?
"Help me look, Grace...What's the number?"
"Oh," I break my gaze from the window and halt my inner monologue to read the note I'd scribbled on my palm, "um it's...39? No...49."
"Oh, right up here then. Thanks...and sorry. I just haven't been to their new house yet. "
I nod, understanding. How did a guy in his early 20's have friends who were second time home owners anyway?
"Hey, Brad, how old are these people?"
"Well," he gives a nervous chuckle, "They're older. Like they've got kids and stuff...but it's fine. They're young at heart, you know?"
He dances bit and sings, "Besides they throw the best parties and they've got expensive booze."
I laugh at Brad's unmasked party-boy demeanor. Suddenly, my mind races to sex. I recall that Brad had termed himself 'kind of a sexaholic' in his profile description and how I'd hoped clandestinely that he could live up to that title. So far, there'd been nothing. Zip. Nada. Ziltch. Not even a sly move up my thigh. Maybe alcohol would loosen him up a bit.
"You do love a party where you can throw out your inhibitions," I flirt.
He misses my advances, I'm never good at flirting anyway. Or maybe it's just that he's too focused on his friends...or their alcohol. We enter their driveway. The house is an impressive 3 story assembly of grey brick, barely sprouting grass from the foundation that would soon become its front yard.
"Oh they do too, Grace. God, like, you know what they do...Crap, well, I probably shouldn't even tell you."
As much as I know I ought to respect the privacy of his friends, he's got me curious so I press, "Oh come on, I won't tell."
He pauses.
"You told me about how you and your dumb high school friends spray painted that tortoise at the zoo but you won't tell me this?"
"This isn't about me though."
"Pinky promise I won't tell."
He sighs, clearly pulled to let it out, "Fine, If you pinky promise. Well, one time Kathy got really drunk and told me that every night Richard puts her in a collar and she sleeps like that!"
"What!?" I exclaim, and and sit looking more speechless and stunned than I'd like too in front of Brad. I try to shake it, and appear more easy going.
"Look, don't say anything. She was drunk. It's probably not even true."
"Like a dog collar?" I asking, too causual
"I don't know..." he responds, confused.
"I'm a little scared to meet these people," I confess with a sigh.
"No, no. That's why I didn't want to tell you. They're the best. Just forget I said anything and come on."
He takes my hand into his and stares deeply into my eyes. With locked intensity he whispers, "Think of the booze, Grace."
I smile and follow him toward the house.
But I can't forget. The silver doorknob resembles the metal latches of a woman's collar that may or may not exist within this house. A jacket hung by the door stings the reminder of leather into my brain. I urge myself to breathe deeply and purposefully as I trail behind Brad through the entrance and into the grand living room, lined with refreshments.
And then, I'm drawn to Kathy and Richard, standing before us with confidence. They appear strikingly similar...both tall, in their late thirties or early forties, with the bodies of once athletic people who have begun to surrender to the curves of age. Even their hair matches, thick and dyed deep black. They would almost look like siblings if not for their distinct faces. They're joined at the hip and smiling, hers broad and toothy. His, demure and ending with dimples. They're definitely not the kind of couple I'd image to be wearing collars to bed. Soft jazz flowing behind them reinforces my doubts. It was probably just a drunken joke.
"...it's awesome but they've got to finish that damn road. Anyway, this is Grace," Brad finishes as I perk up and re-join the world. Just in time. I've got a tendency to escape into my own head and I'm not always so lucky with my timing.
"So great to meet you guys," I chant, as if it were a script and, in a way, it is. I continue the greeting by offering my hand, first to Kathy who meets my eyes and squeezes with a caring smile.
"I'm Kathy, Grace. It's a pleasure."
Then to Richard who catches my fingers as if I were a princess, lingering his hold for a moment longer than I expect but not speaking. His eyes stare down at my fingers and, for a brief moment, I wonder if he will kiss them.
"Indeed," he hums with sincerity. He meets my eyes and I instinctively turn away from his gaze. Kathy saves me just as my cheeks begin to feel hot.
"A friend of Bradley's is a friend of ours," she interjects, and Richard lowers my hands with a hint of a smile.
Brad leads me away without another word and we approach a table with rows of appetizers, alcohol, and mixers. I try to listen as he enthuses over liquor brand names, but I can't shake the selfish feeling that Richard and Kathy are talking about me. Out of the corner of my eye I see them close together and whispering intensely, steeling glances my way...or maybe it's just my imagination.
Brad hands me a drink and raises his to cheer. I clink his glass but don't drink. Even a sip could effect my sad excuse for an alcohol tolerance and I'm feeling too uneasy about lowering my guard around all of these strangers.
"Mind if I go find my buddy, Grace?" Brad laughs, pouring his second drink, "He owes me some serious Warcraft time...Is that cool with you?"
Oh god, some date...and some party boy.
"Sure, I don't mind." I lie, and he's gone.
I sigh and begin to collect a plate of food to quell my emotions. I've always been lucky that my emotional eating habits haven't had too big of an effect on me. I mean, there are the bits of pudge on my belly and thighs...and arms...and ass...but I've stayed relatively average sized, just a bit squishier. Real women have curves, right?
Something like that...I smile in gratitude as I pop another bacon wrapped asparagus into my mouth. Damn that's delicious.
"It's a new recipe, but I think the sauce really pulls it together."
I jump at the sudden response to my thoughts and turn to see Kathy sitting on the couch beside me. Did I say that out loud? I don't think so.
I breathe out slowly, intent on releasing my fear. Just mingle, Grace. Don't think about the past or the collar. Just meet a new friend. Just be cool and calm.
"They're so delicious, Kathy, thank you. And thank you for having me over." I praise with a bright smile.
"Of course, sweetie," she coos, and I'm suddenly aware of our age difference again. "Where'd your friend go?"
"To play a video game," I laugh, hiding my nervousness as I begin to feel more vulnerable and alone.
"Oh typical," she jokes, "boys will be boys, right?"
"Right."
Richard appears behind us, rubbing Kathy's shoulders and giggling at the truth to our words.
"But video games are just TOO ultra-advanced and mega cool!" He jokes in his best nerdy gamer voice.
We laugh together and I feel myself relax a bit. I stared, almost obsessed at the corners of his mouth and the dimples and dance there as the laughs. It's such a simple jovial thing but it makes me feel like I can trust him.
