“I didn’t write it.” Eve looked at her glass. “I’m empty.”
“Let’s go fix that.”
It got stranger. The I-have-to-watch-my-figure food disappeared to be replaced by the gooey. Little frosted cakes, cookies, tarts gleaming with sugar, pastries oozing cream. Because she hoped to hear from Callendar, Eve switched to coffee. Nadine, having enough to drink, executed an impressive naked jackknife from the diving board. Several pairs of breasts bobbed in the swirling water of the corner jets. Eve worked hard to block out the fact that a pair of them belonged to Mira.
It just wasn’t right.
“We’re going to begin the open-the-gifts round,” Peabody told her.
“Good, that should—What are you wearing?”
“My party pajamas.” Peabody looked down at her bright yellow sleep tank and pants. The pants were covered with colorful drawings of shoes. “Cute.”
“Why would anyone wear shoes on their pants? Shoes go on your feet.”
“I like shoes. I love my pjs.” Smiling sloppily, Peabody hugged herself and swayed. “They’re fun.”
“Peabody, you’re completed wasted.”
“I know. I had a gazillion belamies, belly buttons, biminis, whatever. And I ate much, too. So if I throw up, none of it counts! Didja know McNab called me from Vegas? He won a hundreds dollar.”
Fuck it, Eve thought. A party was a party. “A hundreds dollar?”
“Uh-huh. He said if he wins a hundreds more, he’s going to buy me a present. Oops! Presents! Time to open presents!”
Eve stayed out of the way as it seemed opening presents involved some ritual, and a change of venue from the pool house to the lounge beyond it. Following Peabody’s lead, many of the guests also required a wardrobe change.
Mavis came in wearing a polka-dot tank and striped pants, and carrying the baby, who wore matching sleepwear.
Women flocked to them like cooing doves.
“She’s hungry,” Mavis explained. “Plus she didn’t want to miss the whole party.” So saying, Mavis sat, plopped out a breast. Bella latched on enthusiastically.
Women sat or sprawled everywhere while Louise began the ritual of removing ribbons, bows, and paper. There were coos and ooohs, bawdy laughter at the gag gifts of sex toys. And the conversation around the openings turned to weddings, men, and sex.
Men, Eve thought, didn’t have a clue what women said about them when they weren’t around. Comparison studies, polls—discussions of length, thickness, duration, positions, quirks, preferences.
Mavis switched Bella to her other breast. “Leonardo can go all night. He’s a—”
“Huggy bear,” Eve said, and made Mavis giggle.
“Yeah, but that bear’s got stamina.”
“What’s the record?” somebody asked her.
“Six in one night. Of course that was before Bellaloca here,” she said through the round of applause. “We gotta squeeze in the hump and bump when and where we can these days. But the bear knows how to spring to attention.”
“We hit five one night.” Peabody waved her fresh glass. “And four is standard for special occasions. But mostly it’s one—a nice long one, with maybe a short recap. McNab’s more a puppy. Likes to play and play, then he’s gotta curl up and sleep.”
“I dated a guy once who was all buildup and no payoff. Huge cock,” Nadine added, using her hands to demonstrate—to the hilarity of women. “And he’d dock, and deflate. Like a turtle pulling back in the shell. He’s The Turtle.”
“I banged this guy once.” Trina chomped down on an éclair, swallowed the pale gold pastry that nearly matched the color of her hair. “N
ot bad. We got together a couple times, then he says maybe I want to take it up a few notches. I figure toys, iced. But he wants a threesome. Gotta be open, right?” She chased the pastry with a pink Bellini. “But it turns out the third party was his fricking sister. He’s The Snake,” she said to the chorus of disgust.
“Dennis can still manage two.”
“I can’t hear this.” Eve clamped her hands over her ears. “My head will explode.”