Chapter 2: Increase the Tempo

We must have danced for the next solid hour almost straight, finally stopping because we were totally out of breath and Carole had to pee. I called for two lemon waters to rehydrate us, hoping Carole would leave off the alcohol for a bit so we could make the illusion better.

And you know what else was straight for that hour? That’s right, folks. God. It was embarrassing as fuck and I hoped and prayed while we danced that Carole didn’t notice that I felt extremely uncomfortable—or if she did, didn’t clue in to what it was about. (She praised me for how cool and collected I was—and authentic—when we finally caught our breath, however, so I guess I pulled it off.) Not only was it embarrassing to have a stiffy for my best friend and cousin, after an hour, it was getting painful. God, it hurt. But how the hell would I be able to do anything about it? I shifted uncomfortably under the bar, wondering what my options were. The best and only seemed like ... to wait for it to go down, and hope for the best.

Carole returned from the bathroom and sat down with a huge smile and a big, tired sigh. ‘God that was fun!’

We’d danced through her the band’s other set, as well, and Carole was right in saying they were good for real, despite my being grudging to praise her fuckboy ex’s actual talents. She told me they’d landed a tentative contract from next year with a record label, which was I had to admit, they deserved.

Now they were packing up. It was nearly 2.00 am, almost time to call it a night, anyway, so I figured we’d spend the next half hour chatting about the night’s success and drinking our lemon waters, then head on home for the night.

From over Carole’s shoulder, to my chagrin, I saw Henry approaching. ‘God, here he comes,’ I muttered, and Carole swung her head around to look. She groaned.

‘Fuck, can’t he take a hint? I hoped that would be enough. I guess I have to really send him, and go to my last resort.’

Henry was only about ten feet away now. Before I had time to ask what her last resort was, Carole put her hand on my cheek and pressed her mouth against mine. Our noses touched. The only other time we’d kissed had been at prom; it was a tradition, apparently, and not all kisses are sexual, so we had given each other a brief, soft congratulatory kiss. But this was longer, more passionate, more forceful; I could still feel Carole, and her sweet intention, but the acting part was stronger. She put her other hand in my hair and jumped up into my lap, wrapping her legs around my waist and the barstool. Her crotch was in direct alignment with mine, so the remnants of my boner was pressed right up where her pussy would be if we ... oh god, if I...

My cock hardened fully again in seconds, and my arms wrapped around her waist—for the sake of the illusion, I told myself, not wanting to admit even to myself just how good kissing her really felt as I pulled her body closer, so her apple-sized breasts flattened against my chest a little. That certainly didn’t help my penis settle down one bit. It was such an intense kiss—I’d felt her body against mine thousands of times, but in this way, never, and it excited something inside me that was new. I was thinking of later ... god, how could I platonically share her bed now, tonight, when we went home? After these impure thoughts?

Her lips were soft, oh god, and so sweet, and I was already thinking we were about to be kicked out for how sexy we were being in public when she put her tongue in my mouth. It made my penis throb, aching. Or when Carole suddenly hooked the heels of her wedge boots in the barstools bottom rungs and gently squirmed her crotch over the distinct hill in my own jeans with a very soft moan in my ear—but why? my eyes flitted open. Henry was nowhere near close enough to hear that and be made jealous by it ... I was the only person who could have possibly heard it.

Somehow that made it sexier.

But I gently touched her shoulder, slowing her down, and gently pulled away, resting my forehead against hers and getting my breath back before speaking. ‘Good acting,’ I told her breathlessly, wiping my mouth and looking away. ‘But I think that we’re good now, Henry’s not coming this way anymore.’ I cleared my throat. Carole’s cheeks were slowly turning crimson. She slid off my lap slowly and gave a little smile. ‘Yeah, good acting,’ my cousin agreed, but her voice was shaky. She sat back on her own barstool and took a big sip of lemon water, looking down.