"...been part of a threesome," Curt said, looking at Kristen.
The little blonde drank, of course. If she didn't, Yvette would have called her out on it. The moment she reached for her shot glass, Curt muttered "Nice" to himself in a way that wasn't at all sleazy or predictable or anything like that. As if that meant he was going to get to sleep with two girls at the same time that very night. If he thought Yvette was going to let him touch her with a ten-foot stick, he was sorely mistaken.
For that reason as much as any other, she considered cheating. Curt had no need to know that she'd checked ventured down that path herself. He was too likely to draw all the wrong conclusions from her tipping her glass back. Especially since none of her experiences with group sex had involved other women.
But she decided things would get more interesting if she was honest. So she too drank, taking a modest sip of her excessively potent screwdriver.
As she did, she spotted Lance tipping his beer back out of the corner of her eye. She almost didn't notice it, he snuck the bottle up to his lips and lowered it back to his lap again so quickly. But the furtive motion didn't quite sneak past her radar.
No one else seemed to notice, though. They were all too preoccupied, for whatever stupid reason, with the fact that she'd drank too. She supposed she should have been thankful that they thought her "above" such behavior, but the attention was unwelcome all the same.
Ignoring their collective gaze, Yvette turned to their guest. "So? Details."
Not only had she never been with another woman, she'd never wanted to either. But if that man asked her to join him and another lover of his choosing, she wouldn't hesitate to agree. She might feel a little ashamed of herself afterwards, potentially, but the answer would be yes. No matter who the other woman was or what she looked like.
"Wait, did he drink too?" Curt asked.
Lance stared back at her with the most breathtaking blue eyes she'd ever seen. They weren't so different from others, really. Yet they were. It made no sense and she didn't care.
"You first," he said.
"For real," Zach said, though he looked away when she turned her eyes towards him. "I mean, it's not like anyone needs to know. You don't have to justify anything to us or anything like that. It's just-"
"Dude. Bro. You're rambling," Curt said.
Yvette tried to hide her amusement.
Were there spots of color in his pale cheeks?
The more she thought about it, the more adorable Yvette found it that Zach was so shy. She could have an awful lot of fun with that, if she was feeling naughty enough. And even if she wasn't, she'd appreciate it for other reasons. That blush suggested that he wasn't quite aware of how desirable he was. Which itself meant that he'd be eager to please and unlikely to stray. Men like Lance, who were completely comfortable with themselves and didn't feel the need either to deflect attention or demand it, absolutely drove her crazy. Bad Yvette especially. But Zach just might be the rare sort of guy she'd actually want to date, rather than one she'd hook up with one night while her dark side was in control and refuse to look in the eye again afterwards. Not that she was getting really good at that or anything.
How did a sweet guy like Zach ever got to be friends with a jackass like Curt?
"No one has to say anything," Kristen said, pulling herself up to her full height. All sixty-three inches of it. "Only when there's just one person drinking."
"Sure, that's a rule we all agreed on," Curt said, flicking her upper arm lightly. "But nothing says you
can't
satisfy our curiosity."
Kristen gave him a flat look. He didn't really think that she was confused about whether a Penthouse confession would be welcomed, did he? Or was that the best pitch he and his meager powers of persuasion could drum up?
"Maybe later," the little blonde said.
Curt smiled. "That works."
"If you're lucky enough to get me alone," Kristen added.
His smile slipped a bit, then broadened as he presumably remembered what was expected of him. Nothing turned Yvette off quicker than that sort of false confidence, but Kristen had the look of a cat who'd caught a mouse by the tail.
Good for her, Yvette supposed.
"Never have I ever-" Lance began, before the strangest sound cut him off.
It began as howling wind, but grew into a moan and then a blood-curdling scream. A sound so foul, expressing such infinite pain and unfathomable suffering, that she would have gladly resorted to pulling her fingernails out with pliers if a pair had been available so that she might have something to distract her from it. No living being could produce such a sound. But neither could any other force Yvette had ever encountered.
Everyone stared blankly at the far wall of the cabin. Then, one by one, they peeled their eyes away and began to look at one another, each asking the same silent question.
"What. The fuck. Was that?" Kristen eventually said aloud.
"I have no idea," Yvette replied.
Yvette turned her attention to Lance, as did everyone else. She wasn't sure why they all expected him to know the answer, but they did. Maybe because he was older and thus presumably wiser. Or because none of the rest of them were from around there and he seemed to know something about the cabin. For her part, at least, it was mostly because she hadn't sensed the least bit of fear or surprise or
anything
come from his end of the coffee table. There had to be more of a reason for that than steely nerves.
"Just the wind," he said.
Kristen huffed.
As well she should.
A particularly powerful gust might make one want to cover one's ears, but the desire to mutilate oneself was not easily produced. Whatever they'd just heard was not of this world. Superstitious Yvette was not, but she could think of no natural explanation.
"Come on," Zach said. He sounded duly concerned, but nowhere near afraid.
That set Yvette's heart to beating even faster than it already was. What sort of guy got tongue-tied by a freaky girl like her yet barely flinched at a sound that had her ready to throw the scientific method under the bus?
"You trying to tell us---Wait, never have I ever heard a sound like that."
Yvette chuckled at the clever move.
But even after Lance took a gulp of his beer, he offered no further explanation. Despite the fact that he was the only one to drink.
"Come on, man," Curt said. "You had your chance to object to the rule."
Lance regarded him coolly. "Nothing much to say," he said at last. "It was the wind. Doesn't agree with the mountain sometimes. Come here often enough, you're bound to hear it sooner or later." He paused, then added, "I'm surprised your uncle didn't mention it."
If anyone believed that, Yvette had a bridge to sell them. But no one pressed him.
At that point, Kristen stood up. "Okay, fuck this shit," she announced. "I'm going to bed." She grabbed Curt by the hand. "And you're coming with me."
"Um. Okay," he said.
And so, without another word, the former cheerleader marched the onetime quarterback upstairs to hide under the covers with her. Yvette had no doubt where that would lead, but for the moment, they couldn't have looked more childlike. Zach might as well have been a stuffed animal for all the difference it would make to Kristen.
"Well," Zach said, starting to rise. "Guess the party's over."
"Why?" Yvette asked, pulling him back down. She didn't think it too unsportsmanlike to arch her back a bit as she did, making sure her girls strained against the fabric of her lycra camisole. Maybe a little underhanded, but so what? That was no worse than the fact that they too had shed most of their layers after the fire'd had a chance to warm the whole place up. She had to put up with an irresistible amount of muscle and raw sex appeal being on display. They could battle a little boob. "You saying I'm no fun?"
Both guys laughed, if a bit awkwardly. "Not at all," Zach said. "Just figured-"
"This game's stupid," she said, "but I'm not ready for bed. And you need another drink." She looked at Lance's bottle. "And so do you, by the looks of it."
Neither offered any objection.
"And now that they're gone, you're going to tell us what you really think just happened," she added, trying her best to stare him down. Whether a hard man like him would break under a little pressure from a dumb college girl like her, she had her doubts, but Yvette gave it her best. Nonetheless, she allowed some sympathy into her voice as she said, "I understand you didn't want to freak her out." That almost certainly wasn't why he'd bullshitted them, but bullshit them he had. No doubt about it. "But we're made of sterner stuff."
"Speak for yourself," Zach said. "I'm shaking like a leaf."
She smiled. They both knew that wasn't true. Though his initial reaction had been no calmer than hers, the alacrity with which he'd regained his composure had impressed her even before he'd drawn attention to it with a witty remark.
And though he'd probably hoped she wouldn't notice, he'd moved closer and closer to her the longer the scream lasted. His arm had twitched too, like his first instinct was to protect her. She liked that, even if it was a bit patronizing and regressive. A sense of chivalry wasn't high on the list of qualities she looked for in a man, but empathy and concern for others was. As was the ability to keep a level head in stressful situations.
"Well, I suppose it
could
be a windigo," Lance said casually. Yvette almost couldn't tell if it was a joke or not, though it pretty much had to be.
"You mean wendigo?" Zach asked.
The older man shrugged. "There's a bunch of different ways to say it, and only so much similarity between the various Native American myths and the creature of modern fantasy and horror, but, yeah. You've got the idea."
"What do you know about Native American myths?" Yvette asked. It didn't surprise her to hear that the figure had been distorted, but she couldn't have begun to describe the ways in which it had. Nor did she know anyone who could.
"Not much," he said.
