Jessie opens the door, sees me, jumps in fright, then laughs hysterically – all in slow-motion.
“Gotta go home,” I say, struggling to wrap my tongue around the consonants. “It’s…” I look down at my watch, but with my beer-goggles I can’t make out the time on the over-designed piece of crap. “Late.”
“I can’t go home,” Jessie says, patting me on the chest as she staggers past.
“Kyle’s obviously not coming,” I slur. “And I’m done drinking. Come on.”
She turns around, her eyes half-lidded, her shoulders slumped. “No. I can’t.”
“You have to,” I say, trying to sound authoritative, and failing miserably.
“I can’t. That’s what I wanted to tell you. Kyle has the key to my apartment.”
It takes a long time for me to process this information, but Jessie seems happy to sway on her feet and gaze at me like a zombie while I do. “Why does he have your key?”
“No.” She grins. “I lost mine. Kyle has the spare one. No Kyle, no key. No key, no my apartment.”
Jessie giggles like it’s the most hilarious thing in the world. I can’t help joining in.
“Shit,” I finally say, recovering.
She nods and almost falls over. I catch her just in time and she giggles again madly, a sliver of bare skin between her waistband and her shirt directly under my hand. I feel the heat of her skin through my fingertips, like a static shock of intimacy. Even this drunk, it’s the gratifying way it feels that makes me leave my hand there a second longer than I should.
“Wait a second,” I say, managing to connect some thoughts in between the dizzy spells and complete blankness of the drink. “This is a hotel.”
Jessie pushes me.
“This is a bar!”
“I mean the building. This building is a hotel. Come here.”
She does.
With my arm around her waist, I manage to guide us into the elevator, down to the main desk, and achieve the monumental task of booking a single room through a drunk fog so thick I can barely remember how to spell my name. With another huge effort I get us back into the elevator, and miraculously remember what floor our room is on. Jessie mumbles something about my furniture-suit, and I laugh along this time.
When we step out of the elevator, I feel like my walk to the room is being directed by Stanley Kubrick, as the walls close in and then stretch out into space, and the pattern on the carpet hypnotizes me to the point where I have to reach out and steady myself on the wall. I thank all the gods for whoever invented key cards as I rub it in the vicinity of the lock and we both go flying through the door, collapsing in a heap on the floor.
Jessie laughs maniacally again. I scramble to my feet and step back into the doorway, putting my hand on the door handle.
“Okay. Okay, Jessie. Good night. And for the love of God, don’t touch the minibar.”
Jessie looks up confusedly at me.
“Where are you going?”
“Back. Back to my apartment,” I slur, gazing down the corridor as if I’ll see it at the end.
“No. No no no no no.”
Jessie pulls me by the arm into the room and kicks the door shut behind me. I try to protest, but I can’t think of the words. And anyway, the last thing I want to do is stagger down the streets of downtown L.A. at three in the morning looking for a cab.
I stand in the middle of the room, waiting for it to stop spinning before I make a move. It takes a lot of effort to keep the world from going out of focus, and I can hear blood rushing in my ears. I see a pair of elegant legs, sexy curves leading up to an ass that I want to pull onto my face – then I realize it’s Jessie and look away. It’s fucking Jessie! My best friend’s little sister.
Then I look back. She’s leaning over the bathroom sink, drinking water from the tap. I let my eyes go back to her ass. The jean shorts she’s wearing suddenly look like the hottest fucking thing I think I’ve ever seen a girl wear. Her shirt’s slipped up a little to the arch of her back, accentuating the curve from the feminine slightness of her waist down to her hips. I can’t help imagining what it would be like to take her from behind and— What the fuck am I thinking? But it’s like she’s someone else. Like she’s just another hot girl with an ass that’s begging for me. But it’s Jessie.
I move over to the armchair in the corner opposite the bed and drop down into it. I take my shoes off, then my blazer, and lean back. She comes out of the bathroom and walks over to the bed. I can’t stop looking at her legs, then feeling ashamed, and then looking even harder. She unties her plaid shirt and throws it off, leaving just the t-shirt on. It tightly hugs her breasts, and I see she’s not wearing a bra. I go dizzy from watching her tits bounce when she slumps back onto the bed.
“I’m so fucking wasted,” she says, laughing softly. She rolls her head to the side and looks at me, smiling. “What’s the matter? You look like you’re gonna hurl.”