Big Little Lies(62)

There was the feeling that it was a rite of passage. Part of her was already looking back on this time from afar. The first time my heart was broken. And part of her was kind of curious about what was going to happen next. Her life had been going one way, and now, just like that—wham!—it was heading off in another direction. Interesting! Maybe after she finished her degree she’d travel for a year, like Zach. Maybe she’d date an entirely different sort of guy. A grungy musician. A computer geek. A smorgasbord of boys awaited her.
“You need vodka!” her friend Gail had said. “You need dancing.”
They went to a bar at a hotel in the city. Harbor views. It was a warm spring night. She had hay fever. Her eyes were itchy. Her throat was scratchy. Spring always brought hay fever, but also that sense of possibility, the possibility of an amazing summer.
There were some older men, maybe in their early thirties, at the table next to them. Executive types. They bought them drinks. Big, expensive, creamy cocktails. They chugged them back like milk shakes.
The men were from interstate, staying at the hotel. One of them took a shine to Jane.
“Saxon Banks,” he said, taking her hand in his much larger one.
“You’re Mr. Banks,” Jane said to him. “The dad in Mary Poppins.”
“I’m more like the chimney sweep,” said Saxon. He held her eyes and sang softly, “A sweep is as lucky, as lucky can be.”
It’s not very hard for an older man with a black AmEx and a chiseled chin to make a tipsy nineteen-year-old swoon. Bit of eye contact. Sing softly. Hold a tune. There you go. Done deal.
“Go for it,” Gale said in her ear. “Why not?”
She couldn’t come up with a reason why not.
No wedding ring. There was probably a girlfriend back home, but it wasn’t up to Jane to do a background check (was it?) and she wasn’t about to begin a relationship with him. It was a one-night stand. She’d never had one before. She’d always hovered on the side of prudish. Now was the time to be young and free and a bit crazy. It was like being on holidays and deciding to give bungee jumping a go. And this would be such a classy one-night stand, in a five-star hotel, with a five-star man. There would be no regrets. Zach could go off on his tacky Contiki tour and grope the girls on the back of the bus.
Saxon was funny and sexy. They laughed and laughed as the glass bubble elevator slid up through the center of the hotel. Then the sudden muffled carpeted silence of the corridor. His room key sliding in and the instant, tiny green light of approval.
She wasn’t too drunk. Just nicely drunk. Exhilarated. Why not? she kept telling herself. Why not try bungee jumping? Why not leap off the edge into nothing? Why not be a bit naughty? It was fun. It was funny. It was living life, the way Zach wanted to live life by going on a bus tour around Europe and climbing the Eiffel Tower.
He poured her a glass of champagne, and they drank together, looking at the view, and then he removed the champagne glass from her hand and placed it on the bedside table, and she felt like she was in a movie scene she’d seen a hundred times before, even while part of her laughed at his pretentious masterfulness.
He put his hand on the back of her head and pulled her to him, like someone executing a perfect dance move. He kissed her, one hand pressed firmly on her lower back. His aftershave smelled like money.
She was there to have sex with him. She did not change her mind. She did not say no. It was certainly not rape. She helped him take her clothes off. She giggled like an idiot. She lay in bed with him. There was just one point when their naked bodies were pressed together and she saw the strangeness of his hairy, unfamiliar chest and she felt a sudden desperate longing for the lovely familiarity of Zach’s body and smell, but it was OK, she was perfectly prepared to see it through.
“Condom?” she murmured at the appropriate point, in the appropriate low throaty voice, and she thought he’d take care of that in the same smooth, discreet way he’d done everything else, with a better brand of condom than she’d ever used before, but that’s when he’d put his hands around her neck and said, “Ever tried this?”
She could feel the hard clamp of his hands.
“It’s fun. You’ll like it. It’s a rush. Like cocaine.”
“No,” she said. She grabbed at his hands to try to stop him. She could never bear the thought of not being able to breathe. She didn’t even like swimming underwater.
He squeezed. His eyes were on hers. He grinned, as if he were tickling, not choking her.
He let go.
“I don’t like that!” she gasped.
“Sorry,” he said. “It can be an acquired taste. You just need to relax, Jane. Don’t be so uptight. Come on.”