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She caught sight of Marin from across the room halfway through the night. Leaning against the bar, she held a crystal glass of bubbling champagne in her right hand. Her head was thrown back in an infectious fit of laughter. Even to this day, Julia still doesn’t know what was so funny.
A long black gown hugged her waist and fell in shining ruffles over her slender hips. Back then, her fiery red hair flowed in magnificent waves, trailing behind her like flickering flames. She had little auburn freckles that speckled her ivory complexion. They traced the bridge of her nose and fell just under those sparkling blue eyes. Though time faded them, obscured by years of nighttime moisturizer, Julia could still recall the precise spot where they disappeared just behind the curve of her ears.
It was that laugh that made Julia not want to take her eyes off of her. Her voice defied expectation. She was tall and slender–the very definition of elegance. She resembled those historic portraits in museums–the ones of great women, with hair always in the most perfect place, lips always in such a pose that anyone could see how others bowed before them. That was the air that Marin commanded, grabbing attention in the most dramatic way.
Her voice wasn’t like that, though. It wasn’t clean with a high tone. Her voice was a mix of sultry spice and controlled rasp. It was unlike anything Julia heard before and her laugh was contagious. Julia fought the need to smile while watching, while observing the spectacle she stumbled upon.
With her own champagne in hand, Julia stood there, unable to tear her gaze away, wondering what kind of joke could make a woman like that laugh. That was when Marin looked over and saw her, too. Julia jerked her eyes away so fast her champagne threatened to lurch out of her glass.
She turned back to the group of administrators she was huddled with, also from Kleinton, who chatted about the phenomenal turn out. They clinked glasses of whiskey and champagne over comments of how much money the event might actually result in and what types of programs could be developed.
She was mid conversation about her upcoming involvement in a new lunch food initiative when Marin appeared at her side. She was startled, completely in awe over her bold grace as Marin slid right in–a magnificent river separating simple marshy banks.
“Good afternoon,” she said in greeting, raising her glass to everyone. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Marin Hartland with Hendrickson Marketing.”
“Penelope Riley.”
“Jackson Graham.”
“Elizabeth Jostly,” another added, all shaking her hand around the circle.
“Julia Jenner,” she introduced lastly.
And that was all it took. As the crowd thinned and tipsy adults ran out of checks to write, they packed into their taxis and Ubers. Julia and Marin sat around the grand fireplace, soaking up the intimacy of their own company. They had an entire bottle of champagne to themselves, filling their glasses to their heart’s desire.
Julia said anything to hear that laugh again. She mentioned she taught science and how last week a student distracted her in the hall just so another could pull the emergency eye wash shower. Marin confessed she was just starting her master’s in marketing, and how she submitted a copy of her grocery list to the editors instead of her rough draft on the last communication analysis. They laughed until their mascara was beyond repair.
“Well, I think they may kick us out if we don’t head out soon.” Marin chuckled, leaving her hand on Julia’s thigh as she spoke.
Julia wasn’t sure if there was flirting in the subtle way Marin would reach out and hold her arm or leg as she laughed, or if that was what young women in their twenties did then. She could’ve imagined how her laugh sounded louder when she was the cause over that young bartender.
“I suppose so.” Julia’s eyes glistened with the reflection of the fire in them.
She stood, and Marin followed her lead. She smiled at her–both just stuck in that gaze–with the backdrop of that extravagant fireplace behind them. Maybe there was something in the way Marin looked at her. Just maybe.
Uncertainty lingered in her mind until Marin placed one hand on her waist and pulled her body against hers. She held Julia there, their faces just inches apart as she gasped for a breath before pressing those soft lips into hers. It was bold, something Julia would never have done. Marin’s tasted like luscious champagne bubbles, sending fireworks exploding in her stomach. Julia pulled back, stunned and in blissful awe at the same time.
“I’d like to see you again.” Marin’s raspy voice filled Julia’s head with foggy warmth.
“How’s right now?” Julia’s voice was sultry and so unfamiliar to hear like that. She wasn’t that bold, but the way Marin’s eyes undressed her lit a fire that she couldn’t ignore.
“Let’s go.” Marin kissed her again, this time pushing her hips into Julia’s.
They called a taxi, barely able to keep their hands off each other in the back seat as he pretended not to notice. They didn’t try very well. The driver kept looking back in his mirror and then darting his eyes away again. Marin pushed Julia into the seat and she felt flat on top of her. They laughed over the alcohol that hazed their vision and ignited their chest.
Julia kissed Marin into the building of her apartment, barely allowing her the time to type in her keycode to her door before running up the stairs. Julia laughed as she chased that red hair, trying so desperately not to fall in that ridiculously tight dress.
Marin’s studio was small and simple, designed more for a lowly college student than a young professional woman. The bed laid out in the open, just across from her couch and television and within a few steps from the kitchen. At least it was a short trip.
Without hesitation, Marin approached Julia, her hands immediately tangling in her golden locks. She pressed her against the open door, the weight of their bodies colliding against it with a satisfying slam. Julia wanted to kiss every inch of Marin’s porcelain skin. She wanted to soak up every spice she could smell, but couldn’t taste.
Marin’s hand ventured to Julia’s thigh, where the slit in her dress revealed a glimpse of sun-kissed skin. Sliding her fingers beneath the smooth fabric, she pulled it up to Julia’s hips.
“Well then,” Julia exhaled against ruby red lips.
“I can’t stare at that leg any longer with all that fabric obscuring my view.”
With each step, she guided Marin backward, their bodies pressed together, and the dress inching up, revealing only delicate lace against skin.
