It was a wall-thumping house party in a big boathouse in the middle of the bayou. Strobe and backlights were everywhere, and pipes of hash and burning bud were passed around everywhere. And Christine had found some kick-ass tabs of MDMA. She danced off the initial burst of energy with a few people, made out with a few guys. And girls. One had her hand on the back of her head and it felt so good. Then she had to go, as her jealous boyfriend tugged her arm.
Realizing her bladder's sudden need to purge itself, she headed for the bathroom, outside of which a young blonde seemed to be having a panic attack.
"Are you alright, honey?" Christine asked her.
The blonde looked at her and said, still hyperventilating, "Chris?"
"Oh, shit! Celeste?" It took a minute to recognize the much older face of the little girl she used to ride bikes with who lived three houses down. "What the fuck did you take?"
"X. I'm pretty sure."
"What did it look like?"
"Um white. With a star."
"I took the exact same thing, I know who it came from. Is this your first time?" Celeste nodded, still breathing heavily. Christine took her gently by the hand and took her out to her parked car down the wide gravel road.
"Alright. Breathe in through your nose, and out through your mouth, okay?" Christine demonstrated for her, and she followed. And after a few minutes she was breathing much slower.
Sitting in the car, playing with the radio, a teary-eyed Celeste said, "Thank you. I'm so glad you were here tonight. I came here with some guy I barely know and he wound up banging some slut while I was dancing." She grabbed a handkerchief from her purse and wiped away at her eyes. "Motherfucker."
Thinking for a minute while Celeste dabbed at her eyes, Christine shut her door and said, "Do you wanna get out of here?"
Celeste sniffled and said, "Fuck yes."
Twenty minutes later, they were in Christine's small shotgun townhouse on Verret St., kicking off their dancing shoes and relaxing on the couch. They caught up on each others' lives. Celeste had been a nanny and a secretary for a while before becoming a teacher's assistant at Tulane. Christine told her about her mother's death and her many trips around the world that followed, and about the novel she was working on.
"It sounds like you're leading a very exciting life, Chris." she said, running her hands up and down her upper arms.
"Are you cold? I can turn up the heat if you like."
"No." Celeste said, smiling, "I'm fine, it's just I'm a little antsy. I've never taken this before and it's a little overwhelming."
Christine giggled, "Do you smoke weed?"
"Not often, but I enjoy it. Do you have any?"
A cat-like grin came across her face as she beckoned her out to the covered deck, where she kept all of her stuff. They sat next to each other in the small wicker love seat, and Christine pulled out a wooden cigar box. Opening it, she handed her a fatty, which she put in her mouth.
"Got a light?" Christine lit it for her with a friendly smile. A little scratch in the back of her brain sent a tiny tingle to her nipples. She didn't know if it was just the drugs, but the way Celeste inhaled the smoke, making her full breasts rise towards her face, just made her own breasts ache. She looked like a starlet from another era. Like a modern-day Veronica Lake.
"This is a really nice place you've got." Celeste said, passing the joint to her.
"Thanks. You're more than welcome to crash here. If you want." God did that sound desperate, she thought. "I have an extra bedroom. So you don't need to take the couch." Oh please don't hate me for trying to make a move.
Celeste just flashed a friendly smiled. "Thanks, Chris. That's really sweet. I think I will stay tonight."
