Unspoken Pleasure

I could see why she appreciated my outfit as Tara was wearing practically the same thing: a thin green sweater and a pair of dark jeans. Sensing that the moment was only getting more awkward, I hurried over to shake Jesse's hand. He gave me a firm grip, but the look in his eyes spoke only of escape.

Jesse was a tall guy (I had to look up to meet his eyes and, as I said, I'm over six feet) with messy, dark brown hair, and tattoos sleeved top to bottom on both arms. I'm told he's handsome, but I found him gawky and odd. The fact that he stank of cigarettes only made him more off-putting.

Unlike the rest of us who'd dressed up, Jesse looked like he was going to spend the night working on his motorcycle -- he had on a dark, stained t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. I doubted he'd washed his hair in weeks. His look matched his 'dirtbag' personality to a tee.

We spent a little time standing there, talking in the living room like some higher being was forcing us. We were all familiar with each other, but everything felt off. Even the way we stood, a strange distance between us that was neither close nor far - arms stuck at our sides like they'd been tied there -- spoke of the tension. The whole room seemed sticky with it.

Finally, I worked up the courage to announce that we should head out. While Tara and Jesse took turns using the bathroom upstairs, I grabbed Kate and pulled her into the kitchen. I didn't even have to ask my question.

"Tara told him she was going out and he insisted on coming along," Kate said, her voice a harsh whisper. "I know, I don't want him around either. But what was I supposed to say?"

I thought of the fiery woman who'd come back from brunch a month before, ready to rip apart every man she met because of what Jesse had said to her baby sister. That girl would have given Jesse a piece of her mind, plus a knee to the balls. But my usual Kate was back, and she was going to go along to get along.

"We'll drive him to the party," I said, "We don't have to spend time with him."

"I know, I just feel bad for Tara," Kate said, "She needed a break from all of this. Promise me you'll take care of her, OK? Make sure she has a good time."

I drove everyone to the party in my Audi Q7. Shockingly, we had even less to say to each other in the car. Even when you're going 55 mph, it's impossible to escape your problems. By the time we got to our destination, it felt like we'd been driving for hours instead of twenty minutes.

As we turned onto Brian's street, I realized I'd made another error in my expectations. Up till that moment, I'd been imagining a small, quiet evening like we usually had when we met up with other married couples. Sure, Brian had said this was going to be a different kind of party. But I assumed he meant that it was catered or something fancy like that. The reality was far more ridiculous.

Brian's place was raging. The house was lit, multicolored like a concert stage. I could feel the beat of the music through the car. Even finding parking was an ordeal. We ended up squeezing in about three blocks away. As if I wasn't already intimidated enough.

After we got out of the car, on our way up to the house, I grabbed Kate's arm and leaned in close.

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"We don't have to stay long, if you don't want to," I said.

My beautiful wife nodded, her lips pursed, like I'd just shared the secret escape route. We weren't even at the party yet and she already looked nervous.

While things were clearly happening inside, the well-manicured front lawn was surprisingly empty. We stepped up to the stone stoop and I rang the bell. Kate, Tara, and Jesse all crowded close behind me. I didn't think anyone was going to hear the door over all the noise, but I felt weird just walking into a stranger's house. As we waited, I glanced over and noticed a pair of empty stone planters shaped like upside-down pineapples flanking either side of the steps. I don't know why that detail caught my eye.

I was about to give up on my sensibilities and throw open the door when it popped of its own accord, revealing Vanessa. Her face broke into a wide grin as soon as she saw us.

Like I said, Brian's wife was a very attractive woman. I wouldn't have been surprised to hear she had been a model at some point. Tall -- about the same height as Kate -- and skinny, she had long, golden blonde hair that ran in ringlets down to her chest. Vanessa was wearing a tiny green, strapless dress that showed off her trim body perfectly. Around her neck was a massive bronze necklace, laden with four surprisingly large, differently-shaped chunks of smoky quartz. Vanessa clapped her hands excitedly as we came up to the door. "Ooo, I'm so glad you're here!" I felt myself warm with her compliment.

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Vanessa quickly brought us inside, like ushering us into her private speakeasy. The place was clearly anything but secluded. Crowds of people, like herds of buzzed buffalo, migrated through the house carrying drinks, lost in their own conversations. Laughing and gabbing so loud it almost made the pulsing music seem quiet.

Despite the dark and the throngs of people, I could tell the house was expertly designed. It looked like someplace out of a magazine, with hardwood floors and classic furniture. In places, there were little playful pieces that offset the more regal setting. Bright spots of color that shouted that all of this was not to be taken too seriously. The home was the perfect evocation of the people who lived there -- elegant, yet playful. Debonair but never debilitating. But before I could really get a sense of the place, Vanessa grabbed both Kate and Tara by the wrists and led them into the house.

"I have to show you around," she said, giving Jesse and I a wink as she went.

Suddenly, my wife -- my safety stone -- was gone. Jesse and I were left standing there in the entryway, staring anywhere but at each other. I felt stuck to the wall, magnetized, like I was back at a middle school dance. Fortunately, almost immediately after Vanessa took off with our spouses, Brian swooped over. He had on a blue-striped button down and dark jeans. The perfect mix of casual and coiffed. He greeted both of us warmly. "Nice tats!" Brian said as he shook Jesse's hand. My brother-in-law shrugged.

My muscular co-worker then led us around the house like a guide through the jungle, through the packed crowds in the living room, past a staircase, and into the kitchen. It was a massive open space with marble countertops, walnut cabinets, and Vulcan appliances. Clearly this was the engine room for the party, and alcohol was everywhere. There was even a keg in one corner, and another guest was standing behind the island and mixing drinks like it was a full-on bar.