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“Do you like this kind of party?” Delia asked her girlfriend. “Having a good time?”

Helena shrugged. “It’s not my crowd. I simply know what to say to keep them off my back and from asking questions. Don’t even care that they’re older.” She sipped more of her Champagne. “People of all ages can be interesting, especially if they have something I want.”

“Is that so?” Delia squeezed her date’s thigh. “Are you saying you’d replace me with one of them if it was fortuitous enough for you?”

“The price would be pretty high. After all, I like sleeping with you.”

“Hmm.” Delia had to look away, convinced that everyone had heard that. “You say that, but is it true? Would you have sex with me right now if I asked?”

“Only if we wouldn’t get in trouble. I mean, I didn’t get any last night.”

“Did you think you would?”

Someone dropped an empty glass as they attempted to put it on a serving platter. The mini commotion it caused further distracted everyone around Delia and Helena. “Of course,” Helena said with her low, gravelly voice. “We’re still making our way down my list. I thought that maybe last night would be my stunning debut on your phone camera. Why else did you dress me up and give me wine?”

By now, Delia knew that was mostly Helena’s humor talking. She was only half-serious. More than likely, she was egging Delia on, daring her to be… well, daring! Something Delia had no issue with, although this wasn’t exactly the venue for strutting their stuff.

“Last weekend,” she whispered into Delia’s ear, “I fucked you in the fishbowl. What else did you think you were getting this week?” She referred to the voyeurs’ favorite room at The Dark Hour, where a couple could get their groove on while surrounded by one-way rooms. They had no idea who watched them, and it didn’t matter. It was the closest Delia had gotten to public sex in years, and it had been exactly the kind of thrill she searched for since hooking up with Helena. Not that she crossed anything off that list… Apparently, that was already old hat for her.

“We’ve only crossed out two things in the past three weeks.”

“Is that why you’re with me? Because I’m helping you cross things off that list?”

“I mean, I could probably find myself a very wealthy sugar mama here.”

“I’m wealthy as well, sweetie. You should see my tax returns.”

“But are you as wealthy as Francesca Blake and that woman she’s talking to over there?” She motioned to the middle-aged woman in a linen suit, her hair colored light brown and her wrinkles subtly Botoxed away. “She doesn’t have a ring on her finger. I bet you that I could be in her bed by the end of the weekend.”

“I’d say I’d take you up on that bet, but I’m not done with you yet, and I don’t want you fucking off to Chicago where Lyse Donald-Clair lives.”

“Is that her name? It’s a mouthful.”

“She’s a bit before my time, but I’ve heard all the stories. Donald and Clair were her first two husbands’ last names, but for as long as I’ve been cognizant of the socialite sphere, she’s been a borderline butch with a taste for twenty-somethings. So, yes, you’d probably have a very good chance with her. The whole reason they keep inviting her, even though she’s slept with a handful of daughters and granddaughters in here, is because she’s got more money than many of the people in here put together.”

“Have you slept with her?”

“I’ve slept with more women in here than you have.”

“Really?”

“Yes, two.”

“Two! Who?”

“You and Lyse Donald-Clair.”

Helena laughed. It was rare to hear that real laugh that burst from her chest and scrunched her face up like the cutest piglet Delia had ever seen. How charming. How endearing. She’d boop that nose if it wouldn’t make Helena run out of the Blakes’ residence.

When she regained her composure, she leaned in toward Delia. “I better get something good tonight. I’m to the point that I start thinking about you when we’re apart.”

“Only now?”

“Sometimes, people come and go so quickly I forget who is good at what. I’ve been with you enough times now that I can get excited by certain things you do.”

“Oh, really? Like what?”

Before Helena could respond, they were interrupted by Lyse Donald-Clair, who insisted on stopping by to say hello to Delia, a peer’s daughter whom she had slept with no fewer than three times in one weekend. And what a weekend it was.