Eloise

“Two more margaritas coming up,” the waitress says, tapping the table with her fingers.

Good. Maybe after another drink I’ll be able to tell Sophie everything I need to get off my chest. I thought two would be enough, but evidently I need a third.

It’s Saturday, and I haven’t been able to get Gabe out of my head since the physio session. Neither has Marcy. All day yesterday I had to listen to her talk about him.

Today was even worse. Being home alone in my apartment meant my brain spent every single second of the day thinking about him.

I broke down and called Sophie just after lunch. I told her I needed to talk about the panties I’d left in the tattoo parlor, but that there was no way I could do it sober.

Thankfully she came up with the plan of sending our parents to dinner and a movie. Sophie made a big deal about it, saying they deserved a date night because they never go out, and that it would be our treat.

At first, Mom protested, saying she’d miss us and that we all should go but Sophie put her foot down and demanded they go and promised we’d both be there for lunch tomorrow.

“Start spilling,” Sophie says, licking the rim of her empty margarita glass.

I try to work out where to begin. My eyes search the bottom of my glass for answers. I lift the glass up and toss my head back, coaxing the last drop out of it.

Plunking the glass back on the table, I say, “The tattoo guy showed up for a physio session, and brought back my panties.”

“No fucking way,” Sophie says, her mouth hanging open. Alcohol turns her into a potty-mouthed sailor.

Our waitress arrives at the table carrying two fresh drinks. She sets them on the table in front of us, and says, “Here you go, enjoy.”

I lift mine and take a massive gulp, trying to find the courage I need.

“Turns out he’s got a stiff shoulder,” I say.

Sophie’s eyes pop open, and she says, “You actually treated him?”

“I did. I had my hands all over his muscles.”

“So he’s hot?”

“Marcy hasn’t stopped talking about him. It’s annoying the hell out of me.”

“What does he look like? Tell me what he looks like!”

“He’s got brown hair and brown eyes,” I say, smirking.

“And is muscular.”

“Yep.”

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much.”

“Fuck off. Give me the details. Maybe I can call Marcy, invite her here now. She never goes out. I’m sure she’d love to come tell me all about him.”

I take another gulp of my drink. And this is the easy part, I haven’t gotten to the juicy bits yet. The waitress walks past our table and I flick my hand out.

“Two more, please,” I tell her.

She laughs, and says, “No problem. Here’s to a good night.”

“You need to be that drunk to tell me what he looks like?”

“He’s tall and built like a Greek god with the intense stare to match. His chest, arms, hands and back are covered in tattoos. And both his nipples are pierced.”

“Oh my God, Marcy must’ve shit herself.”

“Yeah, she told Mom and Dad that we have a scary new patient. She even said he might be a criminal.”

Sophie throws herself back against her chair and cackles. “She’s such a tit.”

“I had to step in and defend him, explaining he’s a tattoo artist. At which point Marcy fell against the wall, fanning herself.”

“What did Mom and Dad say?”

“They gave her their sternest look of disapproval and said they hoped she behaved professionally around him.”

Sophie sits up straight again, still laughing. She’s never liked Marcy and always loves hearing stories about her. “And did they tell you to be professional with him?”

“No, why would they?”

“Because he had your panties. Obviously you’ve got something unprofessional going on with him.”

Holding my head high, I say, “I am always professional.”

“Then why did he have your panties? And why the hell were you at a tattoo parlor anyway?”

I down the rest of my drink, still not sure how to say what I need to say.

“Tell me,” she barks, “these drinks are on me if you spill it.”

“You can’t afford these overpriced cocktails.”

“Oh, but I can,” she says, grinning from ear to ear.

I’ve never understood how a med student always has so much cash. She’d better not be sucking money from Mom and Dad.

“How?”

“Since it will make you feel better, I’ll tell you my panties story now. But you can’t think less of me,” she says, pointing at me.

“Don’t worry, I already think very lowly of you.”

“You want to know how I get all my extra money?”

“Yes, it’s always been a mystery to me.”

“Every night, I sell the panties I wore that day in an online auction. Now I have this big following, and guys pay a fortune for them. It’s hysterical.”

“And creepy.” What is she thinking? It’s so gross. Mom and Dad would freak if they knew.

“I know, they’re real pervs. But it keeps me in the lifestyle I have become accustomed to.”

I roll my eyes, and it makes me feel dizzy from the booze. “You’re nuts.”

She raises an eyebrow, and says, “Yeah, your turn.”

“Fine. I went to the tattoo parlor to get a genital piercing,” I blurt.

Sophie chokes on her drink and has a coughing fit. I wait patiently for her to compose herself, still wondering why she sells her panties. The waitress rushes over with a glass of water, and Sophie calms herself enough to take a drink.

“You got a genital piercing?” she asks, her voice raspy.

“No,” I shake my head. “I was going to, but he, Gabe, didn’t want to give me one.”

“Why?”

I hold my drink up in front of me, and lick some of the salt from the rim. Hiding behind it, I say, “I wanted the piercing so I could have an orgasm, but he says he can give me one without the piercing. So now I don’t know what to do.” I take two big gulps of the drink.

Sophie says nothing while I drink. She stares at me, her eyes in disbelief. Setting the drink back on the table, she still says nothing, so I take another sip.

“What you do mean, Eloise? Are you saying you’ve never had an orgasm?”

I nod.

“Okay. I mean, I tell you this as a medical student. Studies have shown men are selfish shits in bed. Did you know that most lesbians have orgasms every time they have sex, but straight women don’t? What does that tell you?”

“Are you saying I should sleep with a woman?”

“No. Unless you want to,” Sophie shrugs. “What I’m saying is you need a man who isn’t a selfish little shit.”

“So you think I should let Gabe try?”

“Well, if he can do what he says he can, you sure as hell won’t regret it. Because let me tell you, you’re really missing out.” Sophie points her finger at me with each word.

“I’ve never had meaningless sex before.”

“No time like the present to start.”

Sometimes I wonder how we’re related.

“There’s something else I didn’t tell you.”

“What? That he fingered you at the tattoo parlor?”

My face flushes, and I hope she won’t notice.

“Not quite, he offered to.”

“I think you’re full of shit, but whatever. What is the thing you’re not telling me?”

“We went to grade school with him!”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Gabriel Irwin, you probably don’t remember him because he left when I was in seventh grade.”

“Did he have a younger sister? There was a Melanie Irwin in my class who left halfway through the year.”

“Yes, that was his sister. Why did they leave?”

“I don’t know, she wasn’t my friend. The only reason I remember her is because she used to cry all the time in class. Something about her mother being sick. And then she moved away. That’s all I remember about her.”

“Interesting.”

“I don’t see how knowing him in school changes anything. If you’re attracted to him, and he’s actually interested in your sexual pleasure instead of his own, I don’t see a single reason not to fuck him.”

“I’ve never done anything like that before. His nipples are pierced!”

“Even better.”

“I don’t know, he’s so different from anyone I’ve ever had a relationship with.”

“Stop thinking about a relationship. This is meaningless sex. It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to spend forever with him. All that matters is that he’s good in the sack.” Sophie’s shoulders drop, and she reaches her hand across to mine and takes hold of it. “It makes me sad that my sister had never had an orgasm. We need to fix that.”