Monkey Business (11 page)

Their lips touch and I feel a prick of jealousy in my spine. Why does he keep getting her?

My turn. Kimmy, Kimmy, Kimmy…it points to Lauren.

My superhero powers are not working. She taps her cheek and I kiss it. She smells clean, like Head & Shoulders.

Kimmy's turn. Around and around and around and…me. Finally. She leans off her chair and her lips hit half on my cheek and half on my lips. I feel her breath on my mouth, and she smells sexy and spicy, and my whole body stiffens.

I finish the wine in my glass. And pour myself another.

Nick spins and lands on Jamie. “Truth,” he calls out.

“How many times did you jerk off today?” Lauren asks.

He ponders the question. “Twice.”

“Ew,” she groans, and rolls back onto the rug.

“You asked.”

She nods, suddenly intrigued. “Where do you do it?”

He shrugs. “Anywhere, dude. In my room. In the bathroom. In the bathroom in the Katz building, in—”

Lauren holds her hand up to stop him. “I was only supposed to ask you one question. My mistake. And my turn.” She spins and lands on Kimmy again.

Nick, Jamie and I cheer. The girls peck each other on the lips.

Jamie spins and the bottle points at Nick.

“You're choosing dare, dude,” Nick says. “Down four shots of vodka.”

Jamie shakes his head. “I don't drink.”

“Then you don't get to see Kimmy and Lauren make out.”

“Don't force him to drink,” Kimmy says. “And I don't have any vodka, anyway.”

Nick pulls a silver flask from his backpack, and hands it to Jamie. Then he takes out four shot glasses and lines them up on the floor.

Jamie lets out a big, dramatic sigh. “I'll do it. But if I pass out, don't say I didn't warn you.”

We count as Jamie drinks and makes sour faces.

My turn. I spin and try to use my mental powers to make it land back on Kimmy. It points to me.

“You have to give yourself a blow job, dude,” Nick says.

“Why are you so obsessed with blow jobs?” Lauren asks. “Ha! I bet it's because you've never had one.”

“You lose your turn,” Jamie slurs. “Kimmy's up.”

Not fair. But then Kimmy lands on me and my sense of fairness flies straight out the window.

“Again?” Jamie says. “This sucks. This game sucks.”

Apparently booze makes Jamie whiny.

Kimmy leans toward me and slowly, carefully, kisses me. Her lips are sweet and wet and I want to pull her toward me but I don't. She smiles at me as she sits back in her chair.

The game keeps going but all I can think about are Kimmy's wet lips.

Nick and Jamie are cheering because Lauren landed on Kimmy again. “Tongue! Tongue! Tongue!” we all chant.

“Aren't men mature?” Lauren says, leaning toward her. Kimmy holds her hair back.

The girls roll their eyes and both stick out their tongues
like they're making faces at a teacher behind her back, then move in close enough so their tongues touch.

Nick and I groan with pleasure.

“That was too short,” Jamie cries. “And I didn't see any saliva.”

Nick snorts. “Dude, you're not supposed to see saliva. I guess that's why Kimmy never slept with you again.”

Jamie gives him an evil look and spins. He lands on me.

“Say dare,” Nick says. He shakes the flask.

Jamie grins. “Truth.”

Nick shakes his head in disgust. “Why are you such a pussy?”

“Is that your question?” he asks, looking bored.

“No,” he says, taking a sip from the flask himself. “If you had to choose between screwing Professor Gold or Swiley, who would you choose?”

“Professor Swiley. She seems quite energetic. Russ, your turn.”

I think I would agree with him. Swiley is energetic. I bet she's peppy in bed. I think I'm pretty drunk. I spin and land on Kimmy. This is number two for us. I lean into her and she leans into me. Oh, man. Her lips part and I part mine and our mouths are all over each other. Her tongue slips into my mouth and tingles against mine.

“Get a room,” someone in the background says.

I stop. I feel Jamie staring. Kimmy runs her fingers through her hair. Oh, man. I pour myself another glass of wine.

Kimmy spins. Every part of my body wants it to land on me. Lauren.

Nick cheers. “Giddyap!”

Kimmy walks over to Lauren and sits on her lap. And then, very slowly, they start going at it. Tongue, saliva, the works. We watch, mesmerized, as Lauren raises her hands and caresses Kimmy's breasts.

Then Kimmy caresses Lauren.

Holy shit.

“I think I just came,” Jamie says.

Kimmy and Lauren start laughing and pull away from each other.

Kimmy sits down on the bed beside me. My heart is hammering against my rib cage. If we were alone in here, I'd be all over her.

“Can you do that again?” Nick says, bug-eyed.

He spins, and gets Lauren, and they kiss. Then Lauren gets Nick, and Nick says, “Time to turn your back to our team.”

Lauren rolls her eyes and they kiss again. Then Nick jumps on top of her, squishing a chunk of Brie, and Lauren knees him in the groin.

“Ball breaker,” he wheezes.

“This is getting boring,” Lauren says, pushing him off her. “Can we play something else?”

Something else? What else could lead to Kimmy's tongue in my mouth? I need to have her tongue in my mouth. I need to be on top of her.

“How about ‘I never'?” Nick offers, still wheezing. “That's where you have to drink to everything you've done.”

“I'm bored,” Jamie whines. “This sucks.”

“So leave,” Nick says. “What's wrong with you, dude?”

“I told you, I don't like drinking.”

Nick ignores him. “How about truth-or-dare?”

“We already did that,” I said. “It was the alternate solution to the alternate lifestyle, remember?”

“I dare the girls,” Nick says, “to take off their shirts and bras.”

“Yeah, right,” Lauren says.

“I'm not wearing a bra,” Kimmy says.

Oh, man.

Nick starts to remove his shirt. “I'll take off my mine and the rest of you take off yours. Russ's is already off—you don't hear him complaining, do you?”

Lauren shrugs. “I'm not afraid to take off my shirt. Tell
you what. You streak the floor bare-assed, and I'll be right behind you bare-chested.”

Nick jumps into standing position, already in mid-pant unsnapping. “We strip in the bathroom and then run to the second-floor bathroom and back.”

“I'm going to sleep,” Jamie says, standing up.

“Stop being such a wimp,” Nick tells him. “Do you have a camera? Let's take pictures.”

Jamie sighs heavily. “Fine.”

“You're on,” Lauren says. She takes a swig of Nick's flask and runs off, pulling her shirt over her head. Jamie and Nick look at each other and follow after her. The door slams shut behind them.

The CD must have stopped a while ago. It's quiet in here. Kimmy puts her hand on my leg. “Just us,” she says.

“Just us,” I repeat.

Her face is barely an inch from mine. Her lips are wet and moist. My mouth is dry. She brushes her hair away from her face. “I think we should continue where we left off.”

I think she's right. I run my hand through her hair. She looks into my eyes. Slowly I lean into her and kiss her.

Oh, man.

Friday, October 31, 10:30 p.m.

T
he bass of the music reverberates through the vents. Just one more sentence…

No! I forcibly wheel myself away from my desk and close my laptop. I can't work on Halloween. The Economics assignment can wait until after the party. I waddle out the door and down to the common room. I'm already dressed. I've been in costume for the past two hours, wearing a large green shell around my torso, green tights and clunky black shoes. I continue waddling, down the stairs and to the common room.

Must stop thinking about Economics.

The party is in full swing. Kimmy, who is dressed as a geisha girl, is in the corner refilling her drink. Definitely no drinking for me tonight. I must have a clear head when I return to my desk.

“Layla, I have some news,” she says. She gestures to me, and I move in closer, as close as anyone could get in a costume like mine. I wonder if she's finally going to admit what's going on with her and Russ. She hasn't said anything, but I can feel the hyper energy between them. Something's
going on. I don't approve, but it's not my business to say. I'm a little disappointed that she hasn't confided in me. Maybe she senses that I wouldn't support the infidelity. Or maybe she's mad at me because I missed her birthday celebration. It wasn't my fault, I had to work.

She looks me over. “What are you supposed to be?”

“I'm an M&M.” M&M's are not my all-time favorite chocolate. I prefer Snickers. However, the makings for an M&M's costume were far more readily available. I wasn't about to tape nuts and caramel to my body. I stretch out my arm and touch her shoulder. “You look cute.” Personally, I would never dress as something that represents subservience, but whatever. She
does
look cute. She's wearing a short red Asian-style dress, and red chopsticks in her hair. “You should have painted your face white.”

“A white face would make me look pasty, and I want to look hot.” She lowers her voice. “I have news about Brad.”

Brad? “Bradley Green?” My Bradley Green?

“The one and only. He doesn't live with a girlfriend.”

Yes! “How do you know?”

“I found his number on the Internet and called him. The male voice on the voice mail said he couldn't come to the phone.”

I look at her with expectation. “What? When? Why?”

“This afternoon. I've been waiting for you to do it yourself, but it seems to me you're all talk and no action. So calling him was my gift to you for helping me study.”

Is she trying to steal my potential man? No, a friend wouldn't do that. Although, Kimmy would. “Thank you. And…?”

Kimmy laughs. “For a bright girl, sometimes you're not too swift. Don't you see?
He
couldn't come to the phone, not
we
as in him and potential skanky girlfriend.”

“I can't believe you called him,” I say, partly in awe that she phoned him, and partly jealous that she heard his voice. “What did he sound like?”

“Sexy. Serious.”

Yes! Two qualities I adore. “You didn't leave a message, did you?” I ask, suddenly panicked. She called an applicant. For me. You can't call an applicant. That's totally unethical.

“Don't be crazy. I just listened to his message. And I blocked my number, so he won't have a record of it on his caller ID. Quick, look like we're busy talking.”

“I thought we
were
busy talking.”

“It's Russ,” she hisses.

Ah. I knew something was going on. I peer around the room. “Where?”

“Stop looking! Keep talking.”

“All right. Have you started the new Economics assignment? I've been working on it all week. There is an incredible amount of work to do. At least Integrative Communications is over this week so we have more study time available.”

“Not about school. Talk about something else.”

Something else? What else is there to talk about? “Then you think of something to talk about.”

She sighs. “Why isn't he coming over?”

I eye a bowl of my little M&M's cousins with avarice, but I'm too paranoid about bacteria to indulge myself. Everyone knows that men don't wash their hands after using the urinal.

A blinding flash of light erupts in her face. “Who's he?” Jamie asks, lowering his camera. He's dressed all in black with a T-shirt that reads
The Enquirer
.

“So, Mr. Paparazzi,” I say, hoping to help Kimmy dodge the question. “How are you tonight?”

“Pretty good. You look very sexy, Kimmy.” He picks up her hand and kisses it. She curtsies.

Then he picks up mine. “Layla, you look delicious.”

His fingers are warm and sweaty. I feel mildly uncomfortable whenever I'm around Jamie. I think it's because of my
association with Rosen Brothers, and that I was partly responsible for his job loss. I wonder how he worded his getting laid off in his LWBS application so that it didn't work against him. “Thank you,” I say, trying to shake off my guilt.

Instead of kissing my hand, he licks it. “I was hoping you'd melt in my mouth.”

Kimmy nudges me and whispers, “He's coming over,” before taking a long sip of her drink. I spot Russ, walking with Nick toward us.

Honestly, I don't know what she's so gaga about. Sure, he's great-looking, but he seems uncomfortable in his skin, like his briefs are too tight. He's dressed as Superman, with a cape around his neck, a big
S
sewn to his shirt.

Kimmy's posture transforms. She is currently pushing out her chest and sucking in her stomach. “Hi, Russ. Do you want something to drink? Jamie?”

She's certainly running with the geisha theme.

Russ taps the side of his plastic cup. “Sure, thanks.”

Jamie shakes his head no. “I only drink when I'm depressed, and I'm in a great mood. Hey ladies, how does it feel to be the best looking women here?”

Kimmy snorts. “We're the only women here. We're like the only women at LWBS.”

“Hopefully more women will get in next year,” I say. “If I have anything to say about it.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jamie asks me.

“I'm on the applications committee,” I explain.

“And you're going to let in women just because they're women?” he asks, his voice rising. “Is that fair? What about men who deserve the same right?”

My cheeks feel hot. “When the playing field is level, men can have the same rights. Giving women a slight advantage is more than fair, when you look at the history of discrimination.”

“Don't you want the people in your class to be the best
people? And not have to work with people just because they fill a quota?”

“An MBA class is stronger when it's diverse. Just as our work groups are stronger when we're not five engineers, our class is stronger if it's not composed of a hundred white men.”

Jamie crosses his arms in front of him and furrows his unibrow. “I think people should be judged on what they bring to the table.”

“So do I,” I challenge. “I think women bring something different to the table.” Then I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down. Jerk.

He raises the eyebrow. “I'm not a jerk because I have a different opinion.”

I laugh. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

“Paparazzi knows everything.” He eyes the bowl of M&M's. “Let's talk about something else.” He scratches his head. “Do you know why our dorm is called the Zoo?”

My shoulders relax. Argument aborted. “No, I don't.”

“The real estate magnate Richard M. Zuan built our residence for free as a donation and that's what his friends called him. Zoo. Huh? Interesting stat.”

A knowledgeable jerk, then. “Very interesting. When I graduate, I'm going to donate money for a glorious salad bar in the cafeteria. I hate that there's no salad bar. I'm obsessed with the idea. I was contemplating starting a petition.”

“Hilarious.” Jamie spots the bowl of M&M's and digs his entire hand in. “So what else are you obsessed with? Homework?” He starts chomping away and a piece of green shell sticks to his lip.

“I'm a little obsessed with the Economics assignment.” The assignment I should be working on right now instead of staring at a green shell. Does he not feel the shell? Lick your mouth, dammit!

“You've started that already?”

Started? Is he kidding? “I've already written three drafts. I'm thinking of taking off in a few minutes to continue it.”

“It's Friday night. And it's Halloween. And the assignment isn't due until Thanksgiving.”

“Don't you see? That's what I mean about obsession. I can't stop thinking about it. I want it to be perfect.”

He shakes his head, and the green shell bobs from side to side. “You need to relax, darlin'. I think
you
need a drink.” He sighs. “The more I think about the assignment, the more depressed I get.”

I laugh again. “In that case, since you're already depressed, why not join me?”