Now was not one of those times. Helena had already proven her point earlier.
He was behind me then, and since I was sitting and since I was Sandy, he seemed so much bigger than me. I could feel his heat behind me, not quite pressing against me, but close enough it almost made no difference. The mirror on the vanity was almost as tall as he was, so I could see his every movement, eyes tracking as he raised his hands to my shoulders, fingers stretched around the side of my throat, clasping over my Adam’s apple. His thumbs brushed over the back of my neck until they reached the base of my skull. He applied pressure there, blunt and firm, tipping my head forward until I was staring at the top of the vanity. His fingers trailed along the skin of my throat until he reached the top of the clasp at my back. I was having trouble breathing because this was intimate, far more intimate than we ever allowed ourselves to be. Aside from that one ill-advised kiss at the restaurant to ward off the evil waiter, there’d been no real physical contact between Darren and me. Not like this. This felt real, different. I thought maybe my skin was electrified. I didn’t know what he was doing and I didn’t think I wanted it to stop.
“You know,” he said, voice filled with gravel, ?
?if you think about it, I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
I scoffed, but didn’t say anything.
He unfastened the clasp, letting his fingers rest for a moment before moving toward the zipper. “Sure he was there, but I didn’t do anything to him. I wouldn’t have.”
“You didn’t do anything to stop him either,” I reminded him, hating how breathless I sounded.
He tugged once, twice on the zipper until the metal teeth separated, and he pulled it down slowly, my sweaty skin finally breathing as the cool air hit it. The zipper track ended halfway down my back, and even though it only took seconds, it still felt like days. “Should I have?” he asked.
Before I could answer, his hand was back around my neck, just the one this time. His fingers curled around one side of my jaw, the thumb against the other, his palm resting against my throat. He lifted my head until I was looking back into the mirror again. His eyes were hidden in shadow, illuminated by brief flashes from the laser and strobe lights out over the dance floor. The back of my head rested against his stomach and he didn’t let me go. “We had rules,” I managed to say. “You agreed.”
“I didn’t fuck him,” he said, the word low and dirty, “if that’s what you’re asking. And I wasn’t going to.”
I sneered at him in the mirror. “Did he know that?”
His hand tightened against my jaw, fingers dimpling the skin. It didn’t hurt. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. Not physically at least. His other hand came to my shoulder, fingers scraping along the material until it hooked underneath, nail scraping against my skin. He peeled off the shoulder of the black unitard, stretching it out until it hooked over and fell down to my bicep, clinging against the skin. I was partially exposed to him, the long stretch of my neck, the curve of my shoulder. “I shouldn’t have to tell anyone that,” he said. “If I don’t want to do something, then I don’t have to do it.”
“You did it on purpose,” I said. “I know you did.”
“Did I?” His smile was all teeth. “And how would you know that?”
“Because I know you.”
“Do you?” He averted his eyes, looking down at me. He trailed his fingers along my exposed shoulder. “Funny how that works.”
“You could have told him to step away,” I said. “To back off. You didn’t do that.”
“That right.” He let go of my face and moved to my other arm, pulling the other sleeve until my shoulder slid free. I reached up and took the rubber falsies out from the front of the costume, setting them on the vanity. He waited until I finished before he took my right arm in his big hand, pulling the sleeve, stretching it tightly against my skin. He tugged it over my hand. Then he moved onto the other arm. And I let him. For some reason, I let him. If I were capable of getting an erection, I probably would have. But I was still tucked, and it was only painful. A good pain, but pain nonetheless.
The unitard fell around my chest, my nipples pebbled and hard. I didn’t know what he was doing, and I wanted him to leave. I wanted him to stay. I wanted him to stop and to keep going. I wanted to shout at him, but I kept silent.
“You should turn around,” he said.
“Why,” I said, just to be contrary. He needed to know that he couldn’t control me.
“Because I asked you to.”
“You told me to.”
He chuckled. “If I was telling you to do something, you’d know. You should turn around.”
I didn’t know if I should.
I did anyway.
He hadn’t backed away from me. I was eye level with his stomach. He wore a tight black V-neck, the material stretched over his arms and chest. His jeans were dark, though I didn’t let my eyes stray any farther down because that would have just been creepy. Here he was helping me get out of costume and I was—
He kneeled in front of me, resting back on the heels of his boots. I was looking down at him now, so close to my legs, which had spread slightly of their own accord. This was not how I saw my evening going, especially with the drama it had started with. And, if I was being honest with myself, this wasn’t the first time I’d pictured Darren on his knees before me.
“You seemed like you didn’t have a problem with the rules,” Darren said, and I was totally confused with what he was talking about, until I remembered that we were in the middle of an argument of sorts. Or something.
“I didn’t do anything,” I said.