"Cheers," said Emily. We clinked our glasses together.
It was a Friday evening, around eight. Outdoors, the night air was heavy with the summer heat, but Emily and I were enjoying the air conditioning of a hotel bar.
We were in Reno, traveling for Emily's work. She had managed to convince her company to hire me, temporarily, as her assistant for this trip.
"Here's to meeting my sales goal," she said. We sipped our drinks.
"I just want to make sure you know how grateful I am," I said. "I really needed this. This is embarrassing, but--I had a little trouble paying rent last month."
"Oh, please. Don't mention it. This company has so much money, I have to share it when I can."
It had been a couple weeks since that day at her pool. I still felt so guilty about my behavior that day that I'd have done anything for her, even if money weren't an issue.
So I took the work seriously, despite not understanding her job very well--It had something to do with outsourcing, but it was somehow more complicated than that--I didn't need to understand. All I needed to do was accompany her to her meetings and sales calls.
I had her oat milk latte ready for her in the morning, as well as her mid-afternoon cold brew pick-me-up. I had her notes on each client ready before she had to ask. At night, after the long day of sales meetings, I entered her new contacts' business cards into a database and prepared her agenda for the next day.
Now it was the last night of our trip, and it was time to relax and have fun.
"If I hit my sales goal we should definitely celebrate," she had said, our first night here. "Maybe we'll, I don't know... see what the clubs are like here. Remember how we used to go clubbing all the time?"
I remembered. I remembered especially one particular night, years ago--a dark club, pulsing with music, full of leering guys--Emily in the middle of a crowd on the dance floor, kissing another girl.
Jenny Jackson had been her name. Emily had made out with her in front of everyone. And there I was, on the sidelines. I could only watch as it went on and on and on, my heart in my throat, thinking,
Why isn't that me?
Emily and Jenny Jackson had been dancing together. They both knew what it was doing to the guys to see them together like that, so they were putting on a show--holding each other close, lightly grinding on each other. One of the guys had called out, "Kiss!" Emily and Jenny gave each other a "Why not?" smile and that was all it took.
It could have been me if I'd had a little more courage. I'd thought about it many times in the years since. Earlier that night, I'd been the one dancing with Emily like that. But dancing so close to her, so provocatively, had been too intense. I was afraid she'd be able to tell that I was aroused for real, that I wasn't just pretending for the guys. I'd made an excuse and pulled away from her. That's when she started dancing with Jenny Jackson instead.
Afterwards, Emily had laughed with me, a wild light in her eyes. "Can you
believe
I did that?" she'd said. "God, that was crazy!"
I'd burned with jealousy. It had just been a big joke to Emily. I never understood how she could be so casual about it.
I knew other girls who "experimented" with each other, and I wanted that with Emily. I used to think that's all it was.
But I had been fantasizing about Emily for as long as I'd known her. And the magnitude of it had grown and grown and grown, while my dread of acting on it grew to match.
I'd always hesitated. There was always a reason not to make my move. She'd treat it like a joke, like she had with Jenny Jackson. My intensity would freak her out. She would sense how badly I wanted it, how long I'd been thinking about it.
I knew now that it was more than just a fantasy. I was in love with her. I had been for a long, long time, but I hadn't admitted it to myself until recently.
Every night this week I had laid awake in my hotel bed, imagining the end of the trip, our last night together, the two of us on the dance floor. And now it was here. Tonight was the night. Tonight I was going to tell her. There was no better time. Rick wasn't around. Tomorrow morning we'd return home. But tonight--tonight we would hold each other close, moving with the music. Emily would look at me, and that's when I'd say it.
I love you, Emily.
And she would know what I meant. She would know I meant real love, not just as friends.
I love you, Abigail
, she would say.
And then we'd kiss, for the first time, just like she and Jenny Jackson had--only it would be for real--not a joke, not a performance.
Emily's crazy days were mostly behind her. Sometimes it was hard to remember they were the same woman: the one I'd spent this trip working with, versus the one who'd made out with a friend in a club once on a dare. If I could go back in time and tell the old Emily about the high-powered businesswoman she'd become--conservative blouses, slacks, no-nonsense pumps--she'd never believe me.
But she was wasn't dressed like that tonight. Tonight she was a little more like the old Emily. Her dress was a vibrantly-patterned, off-the-shoulder design, baring her left shoulder and upper arm. The big loose neckline draped so low that the top of one breast was showing. It was hard not to look at her body. Every time she moved my eye was drawn to her, to see the material cling to her in a new way.
I watched her take a small sip from her glass.
"Do you remember the Diamond Bar?" she said.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. The Diamond Bar was where we used to go dancing. It was the club where she had kissed Jenny Jackson that night.
Maybe she's thinking the same as me. Maybe she wants it to happen tonight, too.
"I was literally just thinking about that," I said. "Because we were talking about going dancing."
"We were so young and crazy then!" she said.
"Shut up! We're still young!" I said. And she had always been the crazy one, not me. "Do you think, if you could somehow meet your younger self, she'd believe you'd end up where you are now? Saleswoman of the month and all that?"
"God, no! I used to be such a slut," she said. "Did you know that whenever we went clubbing I never wore any underwear? No panties, no bra, nothing. Just those tiny little dresses! I loved how it felt for some reason." She laughed.
"Emily!" I was genuinely surprised. "Are you
serious
?"
"I swear to God. And those dresses were so
cheap!
They were made of that stretchy polyester. Some of them were so thin I couldn't wear them more than once or twice. They just fell apart."
I remembered the dress she'd been wearing the night she kissed Jenny Jackson. Now I knew she had been naked beneath.
"You were so hot back then," Emily said. "I mean, you're still hot, don't get me wrong! But trust me, you could have gotten laid a
ton
if you'd let yourself cut loose a little bit more."
"I guess that's not really my style," I said.
"I get it," she said. "I never fucked a lot of guys either. But--do you remember how Diamond Bar had those dark booths in the back?"
I nodded.
"I can't believe I used to do this, but I would sit with guys back there and give them blow jobs. I did that more than a few times!"
I was so oblivious. Where had I been while this was happening?
"What's the sluttiest thing you ever did?" she asked.
"Nothing like that," I managed to say.
"Oh, come on. I told you a secret. You have to tell me one."
I hesitated. I did have secrets. One huge one in particular.
"Emily, I--" I faltered.
"Yes?" she leaned forward.
"I love--" I felt like I was going to faint.
No. Not yet. This isn't the time. I'll tell her later. When we're dancing.
"Anal sex."
"What?" Emily said.
"I love anal sex," I said again. I covered my face with my hands. "I can't believe I just said that."
"Abigail," she said. "I think that's awesome! Thank you
so
much for sharing that." She put her hand on my arm.
I nodded, too flustered to speak.
"Do you want to know what mine is? One time I did it with two guys."
"Really?" I said.
"Yeah. They were friends. I went back to the booths with them. I was blowing one of them and his friend was sitting behind me. He started fingering me. It was so hot and I wanted to keep going. So I went home with them. But before we fucked, I made them make out with each other. I told them I wanted to watch. But I actually didn't even care about that. I just wanted to see if I could make them do it."
"Oh, my God," I said.
