Everything seems so easy in her world.
“Wow! You move well, Océane. Could you teach me?” Sophia compliments me.
She comes closer and sets her dance steps on mine. She hugs me, or it’s me. I don’t know anymore. I guide her.
“Just let your body… soak up the music. Like that…”
She hands me the opened bottle of wine to better imitate me. No more glass. Miss Australia, so classy, has passed the bottleneck. She is funny. So much alcohol, it’s about to make me lose control. Uninhibited me. Don’t do anything stupid like with regular buddies; we hardly know each other. And she’s my boss.
No, my… boss-girlfriend?
I laugh stupidly, my brain doesn’t work anymore. Damn, I think my reason is drowning in the mists, my hips are swaying, and the bottleneck is getting closer to my lips. I tilt my head back, close my eyes and savor while undulating my pelvis.
Musical notes… Not the kind I usually listen to, but I like it… The warm air in my mane released on my shoulders… The cool bottle on my thigh… The wine goes down my throat… Lyrics in English… I sing in fake English. Sophia waves her beautiful brown hair, and I do the same… Rocking… I didn’t think I’d have fun like this in my work so quickly, so naturally, so well…
“I’d have to… show you around the house… Your room,” she says.
“It’s… huge here.”
“You think? We have bigger ones, you’ll see… Damn, I’m hot, aren’t you? Shall we… take a dip first?”
I watch the gorgeous infinity pool next to us and shake my head, giggling like an idiot.
“We’re going to sink.”
“You don’t know how to swim?”
“Yes… but too drunk.”
We burst out laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world.
“No, we’re all light; we’re going to float,” insists Sophia.
Damn, she begins to unbutton her blouse and throws her overpriced shoes. They disappear into the hedgerow.
“Come on, Océane! I haven’t felt this happy in… so long.”
“Me too.”
“So come!”
She staggers while trying to get rid of her pants. Her contortions amuse me. I follow the movement and eject my T-shirt. In my bra, I fight with the fly of my denim shorts. I’ve definitely crossed the threshold of one drink too many; I’m getting hilarious for nothing. I can’t control my movements anymore.
“Yes! You are going to swim with me!” Sophia enthuses… “The water is good, you’ll see.”
The beautiful, distinguished woman is as drunk as me now. She doesn’t give a damn about anything. She laughs and struggles to take off her suit pants.
“Watch out… You’re going to make a splash, too… Like your Louboutins.”
She laughs at my remark. Then she tries to take off one leg. Oops, she loses her balance… A guy appears from nowhere. Where does he come from? He catches her before she falls into the turquoise water and yells at us.
“What the hell are you doing?” grunts this bare-chested hottie in jogging pants.
My irises lock on him while my brain freezes on the image: large aboriginal designs cross his side in an assemblage of complex patterns and disappear on his back, which must be tattooed too. I don’t know which is hotter: his abs, his tanned skin, or the raw graphics of his tattoos? I try to come back to his face.
Uh, I know him, right? Brown hair, sexy, and… Oops, it’s the boyfriend from Google! I mean… Sophia.
His blue eyes focus on me draining all the oxygen from my lungs. My cheeks are on fire. My brain melts away for good. Fuck, they should put shirtless pictures of him on the internet. In jogging bottoms and his hair disheveled like now. A fucking detonator with his gaze fixed on me.
***
Tiger
Sophia landed in my arms, at the very last moment. She is not even in a state to answer me. I detail the number of empty bottles of Côte de Nuits on a table and finish by stopping at the one Blondie is holding in her hand, leaning on her pale thigh.
Fuck, the trouble is already starting!
The doe eyes of the little French girl stare at me. Her cheekbones were as pink as her moist parted lips. I clench my jaw, and my irises run down her curves, going up to lock themselves in hers. She swallows, me too.
“Ty, my love… are you joining us?” whines my wife against me.
I inhale sharply and tense up.
“It’s not even noon, Sophia; how many glasses have you had?”
Both laugh, completely drunk. My wife tries to sit up.
“How much did we drink, Océane?” Sophia hesitates.
A pout appears on the girl’s face, the kind of half-innocent, half-candid expression that inspires an X-rated reaction.
And I… No. Stop, Tiger!
She is not aware of it; she is obviously trying to count in her head. She unfolds her fingers to list, then gives up after three seconds.
“Uh? A lot?” she replies, then she writhes with laughter.
“You got it! A lot of glasses, Ty,” Sophia confirms. “And now… we’re going to play mermaids. You know when we used to swim in the lake, you and me… It was so good. Come on, my love.”
“Certainly not! You’ll go upstairs and sober up.”
The evocation of this memory disturbs me, and the inexplicable laughter of the two, ditto. Sophia suspected I could see them through the window, but damn it, she’s really drunk and starting to lose her filter.
“Or maybe you’ll ride me and intoxicate my senses like you know how to do, my stallion.”
“That’s enough, Sophia!”
“Wow, does he ever relax?” intervenes the blonde in a bra that I try to avoid watching again.
“Nah… Let me introduce you… Mr. Killjoy Sexton, my husband,” giggles Sophia, totally unsteady on her two feet.
“Hi, Mr. Sex… I mean…”
The au pair implodes once again, clutching her stomach. The more my features harden, the more her hilarity seems uncontrollable. At the same time, my wife softens against me, in off-duty mode.
“Sorry… You’re so serious… It’s disturbing with the… face you have and those… those crazy abs, your tattoos, and… your warlord wounds… Can I touch?”
Unaware of overstepping the bounds, she points her fingers toward me. I give her an immediate slap on the back of her hand, which makes her jump.