Alexandra fastened the silver-colored hoop earring and shook her head. Her hair stayed mostly organized, swept back in a sandy bouffant wave.
"Ready?" Kira had snuck up behind her, wrapping her arms around Alexandra's waist.
"Do I look ready? Makeup half-done, shoes somewhere in the dark abyss of our closet?"
"I'll get the shoes," Kira replied. "But the choice of one false eyelash did seem weird."
At least she didn't ask why I did my lashes halfway and popped in my earrings.
Probably just because my brain works that way.
Or doesn't.
"You're the best."
"I am. And I'm ready to go," said her girlfriend. Her ankle boots clunked on the hardwood.
It's going to be a weird night
, Alexandra thought.
I have no idea what I'm getting into, what the vibe at this party will be.
She blinked, making sure the artificial lashes blended well with her natural pair. A touch-up and the job was complete.
But apparently it's okay for me to look like a complete slut, so...that's cool?
"Lipstick?"
"Depends," said Kira. She'd appeared behind Alexandra in the mirror. Her own lips were subtly glossed. "I wouldn't say a mid-thigh sequined dress and four-inch heels needs more, but if you felt like it, that super-dark red Maybelline might not hurt."
"Might not hurt," Alexandra repeated. "Meaning that it'll ensure everyone stares at me, not you."
Kira directed her gaze to Alexandra's uncharacteristically low-cut dress.
"Honey, I'm five-ten and blonde," she finally said. "People stare at me no matter what. Just enjoy it."
I do
, thought Alexandra.
Not gonna lie, I like it when eyeballs flick my way.
"Shoes are new ones for you," Kira said. "They're the rest of your Christmas present. I'm sorry they're late."
"Late? I got you a huge jar of peanut butter, for heaven's sake. Who cares if part of your present is late?"
"Yes, but that's what I asked for. This was a little extravagant, even for me. Anyway, next to the bed."
Extravagant? From a woman who tosses gifts at me like she doesn't have to pay for them?
Alexandra exited the bathroom, tile switching to cool hardwood under her feet. On the bed sat a shoebox, brown with white lettering.
Christian Louboutin
, it read in a crawling script.
Paris.
Alexandra swallowed as she cracked the lid.
These are the most expensive shoes I've ever touched, let alone worn.
The shoes were matte black, finely textured suede with the trademark scarlet soles. Alexandra lifted one out, running her finger over the delicate stiletto.
"Wow."
Not much more to say.
"They're incredible. I mean, what a statement!"
"You mean you wearing them, or me giving them to you?"
"Both," said Alexandra. "I suppose they're a bit of an I'm-serious-about you gift in a way that peanut butter isn't."
"Oh, I know you're serious about me. But I know how much you love heels, and...well, I just figured I'd say it with actions rather than words."
"Thank you." She wrapped her arms around Kira, kissing her deeply. Her partner's hand rose to the back of Alexandra's neck, stroking the closely-buzzed hair. Alexandra purred, the feeling of soft, full lips distracting her.
The shoe clattered to the floor. Kira broke the kiss, shaking her head.
"They're designed to be worn on your feet, dear. Hard to drop them like that when worn properly."
"Oh, shush. You hardly gave me a chance."
Kira took a large step back.
Pretty impressive, actually, given those shoes.
Alexandra sat down and slid on the perfectly-tapered shoes.
"Four inches," Kira said, extending her long arm to lift Alexandra to her feet. "No big deal in your world nowadays, is it?"
Alexandra blushed.
And to think this is all new since I started dating you.
"Well, that doesn't mean I want to stand around in them all night."
"As you are aware, the Riises own furniture. You can sit down."
Or head to a bedroom,
Alexandra thought.
With any one of about four people who will be there.
"What?" asked Kira. "You're doing that staring into space thing again."
"Oh, nothing." Alexandra couldn't resist winking.
Kira shook her head again. "You complete little whore. We'll see, okay?"
"Yes, please."
"Ready?"
"I'm assuming we're not walking?"
Kira frowned. "If you
ever
think of walking a mile in Chicago in January in those shoes, just give them back and I'll find someone else who can wear them as intended." She paused, grinning. "No, I'm calling an Uber."
"Kira, honey. You're getting ahead of yourself. It's not January for another few hours."
"Ah, yes. December 31. A much better time to walk a mile in heels."
--
Meg Riis answered the door, wrapping Kira and Alexandra in rapid sequential hugs.
"Hello, Blondie," she said, taking a bottle of red wine from Kira. "So nice of you bring New Girl to our little soiree."
Alexandra stepped inside. "Little" was perhaps not the right word. The large living room was well-occupied, with perhaps fifteen women chatting, all eye-catchingly dressed.
"No staring, New Girl." Meg rested her hand on Alexandra's shoulder. "Obviously you know a few of them. The rest you can meet. But not if you just stand there."
"Oh, sorry." Alexandra scanned the room, picking out Meg's wife Mette and others from their soccer team.
"By the way, New Girl, I think you win this battle in the Shoe Wars. Fucking red bottoms."
Alexandra grinned. "Close second for you,
Megan.
"
Their hostess wore a low-cut navy dress, but even her cleavage was outshined by the glittering silver pumps.
"Thank you. Jimmy Choos aren't cheap, so I'm glad you at least noticed. I won't even comment on Blondie wearing the same color dress as me but with a slit so high up the side that it looks like an accident waiting to happen."
"You just did comment," replied Kira. "And with you, it might not be an accident."
Meg turned away, failing to hide the redness spreading across her pale cheeks.
Fingers intertwined with Alexandra's as Kira bent to whisper into her ear. "See, might not necessarily be the tamest party if you play your cards right."
Well, duh
, thought Alexandra.
You say that like we didn't have a foursome with Meg and Mette.
But what happens when it's only us and what happens with a house full of people who presumably conform to conventional expectations of sexual behavior are two different things.
Probably.
"No teasing," she whispered back.
"Oh, you know I don't tease. I always get you there. Eventually."
"Isn't that pretty much the definition of teasing? Promising something and then making me wait?"
"No," interjected Meg, winking. "Teasing would be promising something and then not
delivering at all. And I must say, New Girl, that is not a problem Blondie has. Now, drinks?"
God yes,
thought Alexandra.
If there's someone eavesdropping on my innuendo-laced whispers, then I definitely need some alcohol.
Two minutes later, Alexandra's glass brimmed with a deep red wine whose varietal she hadn't even noted; she'd been in such a hurry to escape the crush around the kitchen island-turned-bar. Kira had vanished into the depths of the house, so Alexandra peeled off and collapsed onto the living room sofa.
"Nice work there. Red wine, silver dress, not a drop spilled."
"Thanks." Alexandra blinked. The voice belonged to Kelly Ainsworth, one of the other defenders on their soccer team. Despite having played portions of several games alongside her, Alexandra realized she knew virtually nothing about Kelly.
"I know," Kelly said. "I'm surprised to see me here, too. Married chick who lives in Skokie here alone in the city on New Year's."
"Well, yeah," said Alexandra.
Kelly raised her glass, sipping a dark-amber liquid from the ice-filled highball.
"So, what brings a married chick from the suburbs to the Riis fiefdom?"
Come on, don't make me drag it out of you.
Kelly lowered the drink and raised her other hand. It took a second to click.
Oh.
