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“I have a plan,” sheinformed me, linking her arm through mine. “Wanna hearit?”
“Of course.”
“I know you said you’re notinto the slippery thing, but I do want to try it at least once. Iwas thinking maybe while I did that, you could find someone and getback into the swing of things.” She grinned at her own pun. “Swing.Get it?”
“I got it. I didn’t laughbecause it wasn’t that funny.” I nudged her arm with my elbow. “Areyou going to be all right on your own?”
She looked at me like I’dsuggested holding her hand to cross the street. “I’m not going tobe on my own. There are going to be like, a hundred peoplethere.”
“At least,” I warnedher.
“I’ll be fine. We came hereto have sexy adventures. Let’s do it.” She paused. “Of course, I’mgoing to want details when we get back.”
“Obviously.” If I wasn’tgoing to look in on her activities at the orgy—and the chances ofme resisting a peek in were slim to none—I would at least want tohear about it.
“We can trade stories andget off to them,” she suggested cheerfully. “I did lovemasturbating with you.”
Someday, her frankness would cease toshock me.
My stomach dropped at thethought. Someday? What we had was casual. Tenuous. At the moment, Icouldn’t imagine my life without her, but she was young and didn’tcommit to relationships. This wasn’t permanent, no matter how muchI might want it to be.
I put those thoughts away.Charlotte was right. We’d come here to have fun. If her idea of funwas writhing around in a pile of slippery bodies, I wouldn’t stopher. And there was no reason to not have some fun of myown.
“Hey.” She tugged on my armto stop me and looked up into my face, earnestness written on everyfeature. I braced myself for some heartfelt expression offriendship, but she asked, “Stanley Tucci never came here, didhe?”
“God, I wish.” The man wasa powerhouse of sexual charisma. “But no. I’ve never methim.”
“So, the DVD…”
“It’s a good movie.” Irefused to defend myself on that score. “And if you’re not moved bythe sheer coldness of one Ms. Emily Blunt—”
Charlotte held up her hand.“No judgment.”
We didn’t walk all the wayto the castle. It would have been too much to ask of my leg, and Iwanted to be at full power. A staff member drove us up on a cart,with Charlotte practically leaning out of the thing to see as wegot closer.
The castlewasan impressive sightwhen it was open, windows pulsing with lights from the many partieswithin. A cacophony of competing music filtered through the walls,though inside it would be too loud in the individual rooms tooverhear what happened in the next one.
“This looks like thebiggest party I’ve ever been to,” she breathed, chest rising andfalling rapidly with excitement. “What do I even do in there? Walkup and join in?”
“That’s the idea,” Iconfirmed. “You’re about to get real friendly with a lot ofstrangers.”
She shivered.
Maybe something was wrongwith me, but I wasn’t as enthusiastic about the prospect ofsplitting up as she was. Still, it seemed unfair to hold her back.“If you get overwhelmed again…”
“I’ll be fine,” she assuredme. “And if I’m not, like I said, I know how to get back to yourhouse. Maybe I’ll comfort myself with a movie. I’m sure you’ve gotsome mid-two-thousands romcom in there I can enjoy.”
“Don’t knock romcoms,” Iwarned playfully. “There’s no shame in watching people fall inlove.”
“You only say that becauseyou’re a romantic,” she argued.
“I’m romantic?” Why did itsound like an insult, coming from her? “Where did you get thatimpression.”
“From someone we’re nottalking about on this trip.”
The cart pulled up beneaththe porte cochere, and Charlotte hopped out before I could helpher.
“Is this where we partways?” I quipped, and she beamed at me. “Meet you back at the housetonight?”