Heteroflexibility Page 9

  The DJ shouted over a song. “Grab your partner! It’s time for the Tennessee Waltz!”

  “Is everyone coming?” I asked Nikki as they dumped their jackets on a chair and filled a table with their drinks.

  “There ain’t nobody who could drag Blitz to Rainbow,” Nikki said. “But the Audreys should be here soon.”

  Aud and Audrey. Crap. I remembered the pictures on Fern’s computer. Obviously Audrey didn’t know, or she wouldn’t have been so nice to Fern at the game. Maybe none of them did but me.

  The two couples climbed the steps to the dance floor, and I suddenly realized I was going to be left alone.

  Other partners streamed by. Men with hands in each other’s pockets. Girls locked tightly together, swaying against each other before the music even began. I tried to act natural, leaning casually against the back of the stool, kicking a leg up on an adjacent chair, like I was just taking in the scenery.

  One older woman leaned against the rail a few feet away. She was tall, with amazing short gray hair that stood straight up in every direction. The odd combination of features was arresting, the mature face, the crazy hair, her lean figure in jeans and a black sweater. She caught me looking and smiled. My chest tightened. I really had to watch where I looked.

  “Zest, what the hell are you doing here?” Aud stacked her jacket on top of the pile.

  I startled, seeing her. I glanced guiltily at Audrey, so petite and innocent looking. But there hadn’t been any recent pictures. Whatever it was should have been long over.

  Except that now Fern was involved in the Hoebag’s wedding plans. Due to me.

  I swallowed. “Nikki insisted I come.”

  “That girl is always up in other people’s business.” She took Audrey’s sweater and laid it across the back of a chair. “You going to be okay by yourself?”

  I nodded. “I’ll just sort of, you know, watch.”

  “Well, signal or scream or whatever if you need us.” She shook her head and crossed the bar to the dance floor. She said something to Nikki and Bella, and they all looked at me.

  I waved casually, settling on a stool with my cherry bomb. I could do this. I would be clear that I felt no discomfort whatsoever.

  The waltz began and the couples began dancing, some smoothly, others in forced mincing steps. I’d grown up two-stepping, as rural Texas girls do. We’d started going to rodeo dances at age twelve, standing along the periphery and watching the couples circle the floor.

  Jenna and Mary moved easily with each other. Nikki lead Bella in long dramatic steps. The Audreys pressed close together, more shifting to the music than doing a true waltz.

  “Can I interest you in a dance?”

  I stopped mid-drink, setting the glass down with a thunk. The gray-haired woman stood by my chair, seeming both nervous and happy that she’d worked up the courage to ask me.

  How could I say no? And what harm would there be in it? “Okay,” I said, standing up. The woman was a good six inches taller, and lean. I could manage.

  We climbed the steps to the dance floor and for an awkward moment tried to figure out whose hands went where. I had moved to hold her in the traditional girl on boy position, my hand on her shoulder, and so had she. We laughed for a moment.

  “It’s always hard to start,” she said.

  “It is.” Ha. Like I did this every day.

  She reached behind my back, taking the male role. I was relieved. I didn’t think I could dance with a strange girl for the first time AND lead. My palm smarted where our hands connected, from the cut. I forced the hideous speed dating scene out of my mind.

  She waltzed easily, moving forward so I could continue the familiar backward steps. After a quarter turn, I forced myself to relax. She didn’t talk, concentrating on the beat, and neither did I. We passed Nikki, who arranged her face into feigned shock, but carefully returned to an easy smile when my partner looked at her.

  She leaned next to my ear. “Friends of yours?”

  I nodded.

  “My name’s Tanner.”

  Since she was taller, I had to tilt my chin up to be heard over the music. “I’m Zest.”

  “Zest?”

  “Yes. Zest.”

  She grinned, bemused, probably thinking I was making it up.

  We faltered for a moment, and I smashed into her. “Sorry!”

  “My fault.”

  When we started up again, we had shifted around, so that I was leading. Sweat popped along my forehead as I concentrated, trying to work the steps I’d done my whole life in reverse.

  “Don’t stomp her!” Nikki shouted as she passed.

  I didn’t even bother glaring at her, too absorbed in the one-two-three, two-two-three rhythm. At last the song came to an end.

  Tanner thanked me for the dance, and we separated. I watched her walk away with mixed feelings—relief, because that had been way too tricky, and chagrin, because I obviously hadn’t impressed her.

  “How’d it go?” Mary asked as we stood around the table, gulping drinks.

  “I didn’t trample her feet,” I said.

  “You holding out on me?” Nikki asked. “Are you really bi?”

  “Oh no.” I downed the drink, now watery. “That was my first time.”

  “We popped your cherry!” Nikki said. She grabbed a cocktail waiter, a skinny man in tight black leather pants and a vest revealing a smooth hairless chest. “Bring this chick another pink girly whatever it is,” she said.

  We stood around the table, watching the bar start to fill.

  “Now, look at that,” Nikki said as a couple walked in. The girl was dressed in a stretchy black dress, too short and too tight, cheap faded cotton, with an emphasis on cleavage and way too much body bulk for the style. Her processed blond hair was frayed on the edges from damage, with black roots. She had on so much mascara that her eyes looked like spiders.

  In any other circumstance, I’d have assumed her date was a man. She stood a head taller, short hair just visible beneath a straw cowboy hat. The blue jeans were pulled high on the waist, adorned with a big belt buckle. Her stout middle gave way to a wide neck without any sort of female curve.

  “Did she strap down her boobs?” I asked Nikki. The booze was kicking in.

  “Probably. Or had the fat sucked out.”

  “You can do that?”

  She laughed. “Girl, you can do anything.”

  The DJ turned on a rare rock song and fired up the disco light. “Let’s all do this one!” Nikki shouted to the group, snagging me with one elbow and Bella with the other. We danced together in a clot of flailing arms. I was actually having a better time than on nights out with Fern, where her focus was always on finding a man to take home, often leaving me to keep tabs on our table.

  A new girl danced her way into our circle and bumped hips with Nikki. They all seemed to know her. Bella leaned close to shout, “That’s Samantha. She’s a Love Monkey.”

  I nodded. Samantha waved at me and said something to Nikki, who laughed and nodded. Samantha maneuvered closer. Her short brown hair bobbed and flowed around her pixie-like face. She was petite in body style but average height, so when she turned to face me, mimicking my dance moves, we were eye to eye.

  “Hello Zest,” she shouted.

  “Hi Samantha,” I shouted back.

  “My friends call me Sammy.”

  I nodded. “Okay, Sammy.”

  We danced together, her inching ever closer, the rock beat loud and thumping. The DJ mixed the song straight into the next with another rock beat, so we kept dancing. Gradually Samantha moved me away from the Hoebags, and we danced alone. She arched her back, her hips close to mine, and finally wrapped her hands behind my neck so that we pressed together.

  The lights whirled and I liked the feel of her, soft where boys where hard, up close and clingy when guys tended to be aloof. Finally the song ended and a traditional two-step began. She shifted position with me, and we began circling the floor. We had no awkwardness,
making a half-turn with every forward motion, so neither had to lead or follow. The female singer’s bold voice filled the dance hall.

  “I love Taylor Swift,” she said in my ear. “Do you?”

  I nodded even though I’d never heard of her. I hadn’t listened to country since I left home ten years ago. “What’s the name of this one?”

  “Our Song.”

  We circled the floor, and she pressed in tighter. Unlike with Tanner, who had been taller and thin, Samantha and I were cheek to cheek, and now, as I was becoming increasingly aware, breast to breast.

  We rubbed together as we moved, and gradually I began to realize she was working it harder, pressing in. Her hand moved down my back, sliding just inside the edge of the waist band to my skirt.

  Panic and curiosity competed for dominance. The music drove on, but each layer of outside stimulus gradually peeled away until I felt nothing but the brush of her fingers against my skin, the soft pressure of our chests, and finally, her lips against my jaw.

  The song ended and she pulled me along by the hand. “I know where we can go,” she said.

  As we passed the Hoebag table, Mary snagged my arm and jerked us toward their circle again. “How’s it going Zest?” She looked straight into my face. “You okay?”

  I nodded. Samantha still had a firm grip on my hand. “I’m fine.”

  “She’s fine,” Samantha said.

  Nikki watched us for a moment, and the heat rushed in to my face. “How about you two love birds sit here and have a drink with us.” She pulled a stool away from the table. “Sidle up, Zest.”

  I plunked on the chair, and Samantha released my hand. Somewhere, lodged way down in the murky wash of my semi-coherency, I was grateful they were taking charge. But the rest of me raged against their interference. I sulked.

  “Whatcha drinking, Zest?” Samantha asked.

  “Cherry bombs.”

  “I’ll get you a fresh one.” She hurried over to the bar.

  “Samantha might be a bit much for you,” Mary said.

  “You feeling all right?” Audrey asked.

  I slapped my hands on my bare knees, then recoiled slightly. The cut. “I’m fine. I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine.”

  “We’ll keep an eye on her,” Nikki said. “It’s not like Two-Snatch Sammy is going for a long-term commitment.”

  Two-snatch Sammy?

  Samantha returned with the drinks. “If ya’ll will excuse me,” she said, shoving her way through the Hoebags to return to me.

  Another waltz began, and Audrey pulled Aud toward the dance floor. “It’s our song, ladies. We should practice.”

  Mary left reluctantly, but Nikki pushed her up the steps. “Stop your worry-warting.”

  Samantha and I faced each other on stools. She scooted hers close, then wrapped her legs around me, hooking her feet behind the chair so that she sat nearly on my lap.

  “I like the way you dance, Zest,” she said. “Have those Hoebags been keeping you all to themselves?”

  I stirred the drink, a little anxious with her nearness. “Just never been to Rainbow before.” I didn’t dare utter another word.

  The music crescendoed then, preventing small talk. We watched the dancers a while, then Samantha pressed her hand against my jaw and turned me toward her.

  I took a deep breath. I’d never kissed a girl in my whole life. Not for practice, not as an experiment, and not even with my own mama other than her lips briefly grazing my forehead. As Samantha leaned in, I realized—I am not going to forget this night.

  Her mouth was soft, so soft, gentle and curving in a way no boy’s had ever been. She kept her hand on my face, thumb moving along my cheek. She pulled in closer and I lurched a bit, clashing against her teeth. I withdrew and we both laughed a moment.

  The song ended and the DJ’s raspy voice broke the mood of the kiss. “It’s Kate Perry sing-a-long time,” he said. “That girl we love to hate and that song we just can’t get rid of.”

  The bar booed.

  “What is he talking about?” I asked, keeping watch on the Hoebags, who remained on the dance floor, looking toward the mixing booth.

  “The Kate Perry song. ‘I Kissed a Girl.’ You don’t know it?”

  “I think I might have heard it. Why is it so awful?”

  “Hello! It encourages heteros to walk in and fool around. It was a problem here for a while. But to be sure any straight girls know we’re on to them, we parody the song every night of the week.”

  Fire rose to my face. She was going to hate me. I had to get out of his before she figured out who I was.

  The DJ’s voice boomed through the bar. “We need a volunteer to lead the sing-a-long. Look around and find a victim!”

  Samantha set her feet on the floor and pulled me up. “You, Zest! You should do it!”

  “I don’t even know the song!”

  She began tugging me forward. “You’ll know it when you hear it. It’s a karaoke machine. It has the words.”

  I resisted, but she dragged me along. “Besides, the worse you do, the more they think you’re poking fun at it, and the better everyone will like it.”

  A small crowd had gathered at the booth.

  “Oh, there’s lots of volunteers,” I said. “Let them do it.”

  “Hey Danny!” Samantha called. “I have a fresh one! First time to Rainbow!”

  The DJ popped his head over the edge of the booth. “Well lookey there. Come on up!”

  Samantha pushed me forward. “You can do it!” she said as I started up the stairs.

  Oh, good Lord. I wished I’d never let Mary and Jenna drag me here. I wished I’d never danced with anyone. I should have gone back to Fern’s and watched Ellen on YouTube. That’s about as close to a lesbian as I should have ever been.

  The DJ handed me a mike and pointed to a blue screen. “The words will come up here,” he said. “Do your worst!”

  Oh, I was quite certain I would.

  The song began. It did seem vaguely familiar. I must have heard it on the radio. The words rolled up the screen and, good God, I was singing about myself. I concentrated hard, only vaguely aware of the clapping and chorus of voices down below.

  The song had a driving beat and very little tune. I looked out over the edge of the booth and everyone cheered. Nikki gave me thumbs up.

  But as the lyrics continued, I felt worse. Experimental game? Would that be how Samantha saw it? Of course.

  I faltered a bit and the DJ squeezed my arm, pointing at the screen and lifting the microphone back to my lips.

  For an eternity the song went on. I felt certain everyone knew I was a fraud, a harlot, a raging bitch. I glanced up at the DJ, who smiled and nodded.

  Finally, it ended. The crowed cheered from below. I had passed.

  “Nice job,” he said. “Have fun tonight!”

  I clunked slowly down the steps, as if my execution waited below. Samantha stood at the bottom, holding out her hand. I might have preferred a guillotine, a lethal injection, even electrocution seemed bliss.

  “That was so hot,” she said, pressing against me. “Let’s find a more private place. There’s scores of dark corners here.”

  I hesitated, but she led me past the dance floor to a narrow corridor near a back exit. The walls were painted red, one brick, the other a rough textured paint. She pushed against me until I backed into a corner.

  “I want to kiss you again,” she said, coming at me with more passion than anyone had ever shown me before. I had no idea what to do. Turn her away? Say no?

  I should run.

  She wasted no time, but covered my mouth with hers, instantly snaking her hand beneath my sweater.

  I didn’t really respond in any way, mind racing to get me out of this. She slipped my bra strap off my shoulder, loosening it enough to expose my breast. She cupped it carefully, with curiosity and interest, no frantic feel-up or careless smashing. Way better than any man. What if I didn’t really know what I was? I might not be lyin
g. Maybe all my life until this day had been the lie.

  I tried kissing her back, but it wasn’t right somehow. When I imagined giving up boys, I rebelled. This desire for men rose to the surface, bubbling up and discoloring the effect of Samantha, now pushing my bra completely out of the way.

  She lifted my shirt, mouth hot on my breast. I flushed with heat again and didn’t push her away, how could I, locked tight in the corner. Everything she did bespoke of experience and desire, two things that had been sorely lacking in my life. I realized my hands were in her hair, pushing her against me.

  She chuckled and pulled away. “That’s enough for now. I just might take you home with me, though, and see what else we’ve got in there.”

  I felt completely out of control. I had no idea what I was doing. Leading her on? Or her me? Was I bi? What did this mean? I stumbled after her, straightening my clothes as we headed back toward the main hall.

  Nikki waited just outside the end of the corridor. “You never said you were heteroflexible.”

  My face burned. “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “She’s straight?” Samantha asked.

  “You bet your strap-on she is.” She looked at my hand. “But not wearing the ring anymore, at least.”

  “You’re married?” Samantha gripped my hand more tightly. “I don’t believe it.”

  “So how was it?” Nikki asked.

  I sucked in a breath. “What do you mean?”

  “To be with a girl?”

  “We were just talking.”

  “That’s not the way it looked from the spectator’s box.”

  I turned to peer back down the corridor. Dim, almost dark, but still visible. Oh, God.

  Samantha dropped my hand. “Are you really a hetero?”

  “The player got played,” Nikki said.

  Samantha strode off, hands in fists.

  “Samantha, wait.” But she ignored me, hurrying toward the front door. “What did you do that for?” I asked Nikki.

  “You were in over your head.”

  “How the fuck do you know?”

  “Don’t take this out on me. I’m not the one half dressed in the back of Rainbow.”