Tanya and Cassia are drinking in Tanya's living room while discussing plans for an art studio.
I didn’t have the strength to fight through the misfiring synapses in order to argue with Cassia over it. “Where did all that come from? You’ve had as much to drink as I have.”
She ran her fingernails through my hair. “I can drink most American men under the table, plus drinking arouses my passions.”
A nervous fluttering shivered through me, but I didn’t back away from her hand. “Let’s get back to your ideas for the loft slash art gallery slash hippie commune.”
She reached over to the wine, which sat on the coffee table. “No, let’s get back to drinking. I wonder how you taste. I bet you would taste like strawberries soaked in Shiraz.”
I looked into her hungry eyes and started giggling. “Strawberries?”
“You have red hair. I bet it’s red down there, too.”
“You,” I pointed my finger at her, “are too much.”
She sucked on my finger and said, “Too much of what?”
The buzz in my head from the alcohol started moving to other parts of my body, enveloping me into a luxurious blanket of silk and velvet. Everything felt surreal. I wasn’t sure if I was in my apartment anymore or if I had slipped into a bizarre dream. I didn’t know if it was the wine or feeling vulnerable from my earlier visit to see Jenny’s baby or perhaps both. All I knew was that Cassia’s lips were pressed against mine, and automatically, my tongue found hers.