Page 45 of Tap Left
Lola has a head spasm when she attempts to nod, and they carry on a few more pleasantries, but I'm too busy enjoying my fingers in her pussy to hear them. If she were wearing panties, they’d be soaked through now.
What a pleasantly surprising deviant she is after all.
Mrs. So and so disappears down the hall, and Lola makes a dramatic claim of indignation. "Seriously, Daire?”
"Don't act like you didn't like it." I extricate my fingers to suck them clean. "The evidence is smeared all over your thighs."
She flushes and keeps her lips zipped. I escort her to the car without further protest and secure her like she really is a treasured pet. She's subdued during the ride, and it appears her mind is still a littered mess of pointless questions.
The buck stops at Millennium Park. It's the weekend, so it's crowded. We stroll aimlessly until my leg hurts too much to carry on and I find a bench to loaf on. I query whether she’s in the mood for a hot dog or ice cream or both. She looks at me like I've lost my mind.
"What are we doing here?"
I stretch out the cramping muscles in my leg and hope that Lola doesn’t notice. “Just enjoying a slice of sunshine.”
She quirks an eyebrow and looks around as though she's missed something. "Okay."
The clock strikes three and I have a front row seat while the magic unfolds. Music blasts from a speaker and Lola turns to investigate the pandemonium. Her confusion is a spectacle in and of itself. The choreographed chaos begins with a slow burn, and it’s the only kind of theater I would admit that I enjoy.
A woman in a polka dot dress drops her purse. She bends to retrieve it, but before she can, a hoodlum in ratty street clothes swoops in to steal it. Lola screeches. A chase ensues. The polka dot princess takes after the hoodlum, and before we know it, the whole park is captivated. The chase ends almost as soon as it begins when the hoodlum trips and polka dots digs a heel into his back. She throws her hands up and yells out to the crowd. “What would you do?”
The song changes in harmony with her words and What Would You Do by City High comes on. There are gasps of surprise and laughter when she twirls away, and the hoodlum begins to dance in time with the music, singing along to the lyrics.
Soon enough, a woman from the crowd joins in, taking on the same choreographed moves with ease. And then another, and another. The mob multiplies and Lola claps like a seal when she finally understands what’s happening.
"Oh my god! Oh my god! What do we do?"
I give her a lazy smile. "What do you want to do, LB?"
The song changes again, and so does the dance style. Michael Bublé comes on, and people are dancing in pairs now. Lola’s on the fence, but her decision is made for her when one of the dancers extends his hand in offering.
Even though I conspired to make this very thing happen, I want to tell him to fuck off. But this isn't about me. My leg doesn’t allow for such antics anyway, no matter how brave I might pretend to be. So when Lola looks to me for permission, I nod at her to go ahead. Being a wallflower isn’t so bad when I get to witness the ridiculously childlike smile on her face.
She switches partners three more times, and I've never seen her laugh so much. She's alive as she's ever been in this moment. The headache it took to make this happen was worth it, and I would do it again a million times over just to see her like this. I discreetly snap a few photos of her on my phone so that when this inevitably blows up in my face, I’ll have something to remember her by. When the charade is over, she races back to me and practically leaps into my arms. I've never felt like a hero, but I feel like one right now.
"That was amazing," she cheers. "Oh my god, Daire. I can't even believe that just happened to me. I’ve wanted to see a flash mob for so long."
Even though there is the potential for significant brownie points here, I’m not the type of douchebag to take credit for her happiness. Some things are just better left unsaid.
She wrinkles her brows. “It’s weird we just happened to be here.”
I feign indifference. “That is weird.”
“It’s also strange that you knew about the drive-in. It’s almost like you—” Her face pales. “Did you read my bucket list?”
I don’t respond to stupid questions, and I don’t like her tone.
“I should have known,” she mutters. "I suppose you'd like me to show you my gratitude now, right?"
My smile is forced, but Lola wouldn’t know the difference. She is hardwired to expect one behavior from me. "Later," I respond flatly. "We have somewhere else we have to be."
"Where?" she asks.
"Another item on your list."
"Such as?"
"Such as... karaoke."
