The Space Between Us

Somehow, though, Meredith made her way in. Not into the circle. That she looked at with great disdain, rolling her eyes at me in a way that would’ve made me laugh even without that last beer. She imitated one bride-to-be’s sorority girl shuffle with a straight face. Not even the woman’s friends noticed their home-girl was being mocked.

Meredith cast another glance as the second group surged closer. This was the penis-necklace group, and they were slightly more obnoxious than the other two parties. They were playing the “buck-a-suck” game, in which they offered up candy necklaces to men who’d bite off one of the pieces for a dollar. It seemed like an easy, if sloppy, way to make a few bucks.

Meredith was clearly not amused.

“Sluts,” she said into my ear, drawing me away from them and toward one of the cages on the outer edges of the dance floor.

Her derision made me laugh again. “They’re just having a good time. Didn’t you have a bachelorette party?”

“Oh, sure, with a male stripper and everything. But that was private.” Her lip curled as she peered over her shoulder. “Christ, look at them. Now they’re fake grinding.”

I looked. Two of them were writhing to some song that was supposed to be sexy, and might’ve been, had they been dancing to the beat instead of off it. I laughed. “They’re having fun.”

“They’re being ridiculous.” Meredith scowled.

I thought her real problem was that they were taking all the attention, with none left for her. I bet that didn’t happen often in her life, at least not that I’d ever seen. Meredith turned heads wherever she went.

At the rising sound of catcalls, we both turned. The girls who’d been grinding together were now ass-to-crotch, the one in front bent over as her friend behind slapped at her butt with one hand and made cowboy lasso motions with the other. They were both nearly falling over from laughter or too much drink.

“They’re not even trying to be sexy,” Meredith said. “Bunch of dumb cunts.”

“They’re a couple of twat-whistles,” I agreed, “but so what? If you don’t want to dance, Meredith, we can go someplace else.”

Or go home, I thought, stifling a yawn with the back of my hand. Unlike Meredith, who could sleep in as long as she pleased, I was guaranteed to be woken earlier than I wanted.

“Buck a suck!” shouted out one of the obnoxious girls as she yanked the bride forward by the wrist. “Hey, everyone! A buck a suck!”

“I’d give them ten to get their fat asses off this dance floor,” Meredith said, and before I could reply, she’d turned. True to her word, she held up a ten-dollar bill. “What do I get for a ten-spot?”

Those girls were giggling like crazy, some still gyrating as if someone had unhinged their hips. The one tugging at the bride’s hand snatched the ten from Meredith and waved it in the air. The crowd whooped in approval.

“Buck a suck? You’d better get ready,” I thought Meredith said, but the music was so loud I could’ve been mistaken.

That poor girl had no idea what hit her. Meredith put her hands on the bride’s hips, pulling them belly to belly as she slid a thigh between her legs. The idea of the game was to lip at the candy necklace the bride-to-be wore, and bite or suck off the individual candies, but Meredith, who’d paid for ten, was making sure she got her money’s worth.

That girl-on-girl action that had been going on earlier? Nothing compared to what was happening now. Those other girls, those straight girls who thought a little dirty dancing or some fake kissing was the way to get guys to notice them, couldn’t begin to compete with Meredith when she turned it on. Meredith skimmed her lips over the necklace, not bothering with the candy, and found the bride’s throat beneath. Her hands gripped tighter as she pressed her thigh against the other woman’s pussy. Their bodies moved and melded.

I thought the future Mrs. Whoever-the-fuck-she-was would push Meredith away. I think all of us watching did. But she must have been too drunk, too horny or simply too surprised, for all she did was tip her head back and let Meredith mouth her neck.

And then Meredith kissed her.

Full-on, openmouthed, tongues twisting together like snakes. Meredith’s hands slid up the other woman’s front to cup her breasts through her pink and sparkly T-shirt. They weren’t dancing, really, just grinding and tongue-fucking each other’s mouths. Her girlfriends looked on, agape.

The men surrounding us exploded into a frenzy of catcalls, whistles and whoops.

Meredith looked at me, and though her lips were still fused to that hapless bachelorette, I saw the curve of a smile. She broke the kiss abruptly, her lips still wet from it. The future bride stumbled back, looking stunned, her mouth slack, eyes glazed. Her nipples were hard, too, poking at the front of her shirt. Her friends surrounded her in the next minute, closing her in, reaching to support her because it looked as if she might just keel over.

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