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Why it's so hard to fuck without feelings.
For a few songs, we melt into each other in perfect harmony.
My inhibitions dissolve. It's only me and the music and Jackson Steele.
I'm not sure how much time passes. It might be ten minutes. It might be two hours. I'm only aware of a tap on my shoulder and Jackson's body leaving mine.
Zack.
Of course.
He rounds us up and heads to the bar.
It's a little quieter here. Quiet enough to talk.
"The grooms are getting tired." Zack shakes his headthe tragedy. "Leaving for the same reason Cassie and Damon are." Zack hails the bartender and orders a round of shots for everyone, minus Damon.
And Cassie.
She insists she wants to go home mostly sober.
"Aren't we a little old for this?" Jackson asks.
Zack shakes his head. "You really do hate fun, don't you?" He turns as the bartender pours a round of shots. "I asked for your favorite thing. A blow job." He winks at Kenji. "The traditionalway to drink these is with your hands behind your back. I won't ask everyone to do that. But you two… I hear you have plenty of practice." He winks again.
The grooms look at each other with that perfect mix of shamelessness and love.
I'm not sure how the bartender creates almost a dozen blow jobs so quickly. The shot is a mix of almond and cream liqueur topped with whipped cream. I guess the dollop of white semi-solid is vaguely reminiscent of semen.
The grooms go first, but instead of putting their hands behind their backs, they lock hands and they bring their bodies to the bar.
It's the most romantic, tacky shot I've ever seen.
One body shot was enough for me. I play along, but I drink this one the normal way. I toast and I swallow.
Almond, cream, artificial flavor, and sugar. Closer to an almond-flavored latte than fellatio, but hey, it's a bachelor party, not a sex research study.
"All right, kids, we're going to let these two go. But first, I want everyone in the know to rate the shot. How did it match your experience. Go." He looks to the grooms.
Kenji laughs. "Nothing could match you, baby."
"You either." Nathan pulls his fiancé into a tight embrace. A soft kiss at first. Then a slow, sloppy one.
Cassie laughs. "You know, if you didn't try so hard to be outrageous at all times, it would be more believable."
"I don't hear a rating," Zack says.
She shrugs. "Why do we fuss over fellatio and not cunnilingus?"
She shoots her boyfriend acan you believe thislook, but he's not as, uh, evolved as she'd like to believe.
He fails to hide his interest in the mental image of her with another woman.
Cassie came out as bisexual a billion years ago. No one was surprised—the way she talked about Shirley Manson was a dead giveaway—and everyone was supportive. But most of the guys we knew, guys our age, said some stupid shit.
I never heard my brother say anything idiotic about it, but I heard his friends talking about how much they wanted to see Cassie making out like she was in a girl-on-girl porno. There was a year when they kept daring her to kiss women like there was something edgy about that idea.
Men are so stupid sometimes.
