Page 19 of Cuffed to my Roomies
“I’m so excited about this project. I feel really good about the research summary I turned in.”
“You are too young to be all work and no play,” said Derek.
“This is an intervention,” Brett added.
I laughed, “You two are hilarious.”
“No. We’re serious. You’ve been working too hard for over a month now. The internship and the bar. You don’t go out and have fun.”
“Why would I go out? I spend eight hours a night in a bar.”
“Exactly. You’ll turn into an cat lady and start shouting “get off my lawn” at people who walk by if we don’t get this turned around. You need to have some fun, girl,” Derek said.
“Yeah,” Brett concurred. “We’re taking you out.”
10
“No. I just want to go home. I’m tired.”
“You won’t be after a couple of drinks,” Brett said, “and I brought you something to wear. Okay, Derek picked it out.”
“What? You guys got in my closet?”
“Yes. And it was depressing,” Derek said, “I grew up with sisters. Your closet should look like a costume trunk exploded in there plus one pair of black pants. But yours is just—work clothes and a couple of pairs of jeans. I had to dig to even find a dress that didn’t look like you were going to a funeral.”
“Or a job interview. I mean, does anyone need that much black in their wardrobe?” Brett said.
Brett handed me a wad of green fabric, the silly, stretchy dress I’d borrowed from my roommate last spring to wear to a frat party. It was green and short and off the shoulder. There wasn’t much to it, and I wasn’t even sure if my powdered donut loving ass would fit into it anymore.
“Am I supposed to change in the truck?” I said.
“I’ll close my eyes,” Derek teased.
“You’re driving.”
“Fine, I’ll make Brett close his eyes.”
“I’m not shutting my eyes,” he said, “There should be some payoff to skipping hours of ESPN to pick you up from work every night and rescue you from certain death.”
“Really?” I teased, “So I could just flash you my bra and we’d be even? Cheapest security guard ever.”
“You mean all I had to do was ask?” he said incredulously.
“No. Not really. I’m not flashing you..”
“What about Celia? Has she seen you in your bra?”
“Well, first of all, she’s a girl. Second of all, yeah we work at a fashion magazine and she took me into the sample closet and we tried stuff on.”
“Did it get flirty? Was it small and crowded in there? Did you keep bumping into each other and giggling and then touching each other?” Derek said cheekily.
“No. We didn’t actually film a porno in there. We just tried on clothes and found out I’m not a sample size. I tried to squeeze into a size four sweater and I think I pulled a muscle in my back and it did not look good. It took both of us to get the sweater off me!” I said.
“Still sounds hot,” Derek said, “wish I’d been there.”
I elbowed him playfully. Still, every time either of them touched me, from the curve of Brett’s hand at my waist when he lifted me, to the brush of Derek’s arm against mine as he drove, I had a frisson of awareness, like my body lit up inside. My skin was alert to them, every nerve ending and cell eager to just rub up against them. Maybe I had spent too much time at work. Maybe all work and no play made Lynette a horny idiot. I’d go out with them, relax and have fun, and maybe unwind a little.
Derek steered us into parking for a club, and he and Brett got out while I wriggled out of my work clothes and into the dress. I let down my ponytail and finger combed my hair. I had to wear my work heels, but I already felt different, more relaxed, more myself.
We paid the cover and soon we were bathed in a riot of purple light, the thump of dance music striking us in the chest. I grinned. It had been way too long since I’d gone out just to have fun. Not to pick up someone else’s lattes or try to network with potential colleagues.
I bought the first round of drinks as a thank you to the guys, and I drank my mojito greedily after we toasted to taking a night off. I sat at the high table, perched on a stool, and took in the atmosphere. It was crowded and loud, still wild well after midnight on a weeknight. I felt tension drain from me—maybe it was the music or the company, maybe it was just alcohol on an empty stomach. But I grabbed both guys by the hand and led them to the dance floor.
We started to dance, joining the writhing crowd in the lights by the DJ stand. I waved my arms above my head and wiggled my hips. I wasn’t a great dancer, but I moved to the music and let go. I laughed when Derek wrapped an arm around my hips and pulled me to him to dance. I looped an arm around his neck and danced with abandon. As the music changed, I felt my body light up and slow to a grind against him. I’d had to take off my bra to wear the dress, so my nipples were hard from rubbing against his chest. I felt the itch of desire in my gut, felt the burn of it, the loosening of all my muscles, the way my body wanted to open for him. I knew he felt my response because he ground his hips against me and I could feel his cock, the proof of his interest.
