The party

The sound of ice being massacred by a blender made it especially easy for Claire to identify May's room when she exited the elevator. As she approached the door, the rattling abruptly yielded to cheerful ukulele strumming; no doubt the party was in full swing.

Claire knocked on the door, and a few seconds later it was swung open by an ecstatic May. The eager woman wore a sky-blue bikini and had a sheer sarong decorated with a blazing sun tied around her hips like a miniskirt. "Woo hoo, glad you made it, and you brought snacks."

Claire lifted the bag of chips and the container off of her lap. "Limited supplies, so my seven-layer dip only has five layers," she admitted.

May took the presented items and held up the plastic container to better pear through its cloudy walls. "It looks yummy." Her face became solemn as she vowed, "right now, I would kill for you." She stepped back, hooking the door open with her flip-flopped foot. "Come in, I'll introduce you to the other guests I managed to scrounge up. Oh, and can I get you a margarita?"

"Please do," said Claire as she entered the room, smiling to herself at all the work May had put into it. A phalanx of mismatched electric heaters squatted along the outside wall of Sarah's apartment to halt any encroach of winter. The drawn curtains had been taped over with an ocean vista that had been printed onto a rainforest's worth of 8&1/2 by 11 sheets of paper.

Thick towels had been layered between the carpet and the small inflatable pool, which seemed to be the focus of the party. Within the pool, a man with gray hair and a wiry body splashed about in the shin deep water. Hugo (as May introduced him) wore trunks as well as water-wings, an inner-tube, and a snorkel mask. "I think you'll be our last guest," he said in a squeaky voice that betrayed his age much better than the vibrant wave he gave Claire. "I doubt the vampire will risk coming with those lights set up." He thumbed towards a set of growth lamps that had been arranged to create a so labeled tanning zone. "I think everyone else was out for the holidays, except for Alex, who went to her grandma's house the moment the storm started."

"Why do you call him that?" asked a portly middle-aged woman sitting on May's couch. "Oh I'm Wendy by the way," she said to Claire, "and this is my husband Mark." Mark waved. Claire waved back to Mark and smiled a greeting to Wendy, grateful she wasn't the only one wearing a one-piece swimsuit.

"Well the signs are all there if you know where to look," explained Hugo in the hushed tones befitting any ghost story. "First there's the pale skin and the fact that he never goes out during the day. Sleeps all day usually, and in a coffin to boot; I saw him moving it in. He hissed at me too like a bat."

"Seems circumstantial," commented Mark, "but now that I think about it, he did mumble something about drinking my blood when we shared an elevator that one time."

"Well I put an invitation through his mail slot," said May carrying a large glass in each hand, "and he's welcome to join us, so long as he only drinks margaritas." She handed one such beverage to Claire. The other she extended to Hugo. "You sure I can't tempt you?"

"I'm sure you could, but at my age the hangover would last until spring, and I know you don't want that on your conscience."

"I suppose the duty will fall to me," whinged May facetiously before sipping the drink.

The party went about as well as could be expected. There was no lively dancing or beer pong, but May had plenty of summer themed activities that had her guests laughing and cheering. Unfortunately, after the watergun shooting contest, Mark and Wendy had to leave; they were apparently under the illusion that they'd be able to drive into work in the morning. Hugo left about a half-hour later yawning and citing that it was "past old-man bedtime." He stopped at the door and fixed the two remaining women with a steely gaze and wryly said, "but you two had better get up to no-good while I'm gone. I'm two floors down, and if your EDM music isn't loud enough to make my dentures rattle, I'm gonna come right back here and wave a broom in your face."

"You heard him," said Claire with exaggerated resignation, after he'd left. "Turn up the electric dance music music."

May let out a defeated sigh. "That was a bit lackluster. We didn't even get to make the sundae sand-castles."

"Hey," snapped Claire sternly. "None of that, you put on a great party, and that just means there's more castle supplies for us. Now let's get that going so I can kick your ass."

"Yeah," admitted May begrudgingly, as she obeyed Claire. Fortunately, the brunette's spirit's couldn't be dampened for long and ten minutes into their construction contest, May was energetically recounting the "odyssey of the runaway goat" as she called it. "So after an hour I come home, mud upto my knees." She took another sip from her margarita. "And the red paint all along my arm, when who do I see standing on the kitchen table?"

"No."

"Yup," Silvia was barely able to control her laughter. "That four-legged turd. She was just munching on an apple and looking at me like I was the one out of place."

Claire burst into giggles too as she pictured the image.

"I swear," continued May when her laughter had died down a bit. "I swear by my favorite handbag, that curve-horned bitch even wiped her mouth with a napkin," she said before taking a longer sip from her margarita.

Claire responded with a disbelieving smirk.

"Okay, okay, maybe she was just chewing on that too. All I know is there's a reason Satan emulates goats. Speaking of which, I think I'm going to have to give up on this castle and just call it a hellish body pile."

"Yeah this stuff isn't the best for sculpting. Don't feel bad."

"Yours is turning out great. How do you get that to work?"

"Slow and steady wins the race," Claire said with a shrug, before carefully corralling a rampart out of her sculpture. May responded by mashing a blob of cookie crumbs and chocolate syrup to the top of her heap like she had a dozen times before, slower this time, yet equally as effective. Claire sighed; she backed away from the table then moved to Silvia's side and scooched her chair as close as she could to her new friend. "Like this."

As Claire gently took her hand, May leaned limply into the warm presence beside her, evidently a little tipsy. To help steady the bikini-barer and offer a bit of the comradery May was subconsciously craving, Claire put her left arm around her while continuing to guide her with her right. Willfully imprisoned within Claire's grasp, May's hand took the butter knife and evenly slid its flat edge up the "hellish body pile." Through Claire's guidance, the dessert mixture was smoothed except for a small tendril that tumbled off to splatter on her thumb's knuckle. Claire hardly noticed her new sweet blemish, focusing mostly on helping May. But the other woman was apparently unable to ignore it because before Claire had realized what was happening, May dipped forward and cleaned the small dab of chocolate with a wet kiss. Claire paused and her jaw slacked; the tender touch of lips on her thumb set a gentle yet persistent spark of pleasure slow-dancing throughout her body.

Claire froze for a moment. The sudden surge of delight giving way to awkwardness. "I'll get these in the oven," she managed to **** out. "if you'll get that beach movie started."

"Your wish is my command," cheered May, oblivious to the eddy she'd stirred.

Claire was able to set herself beside the couch just as the opening credits started to play to the tune of a catchy summer jam. Numerous attractive beach goers danced around between the names of producers and camera operators.

"A lot of pretty girls in this one," commented May as she shifted closer to Claire.

"That's what you prefer, right?" asked Claire; she'd gotten hints to May's interest in the fairer sex, but nothing concrete.

"Oh yeah, I much prefer dating pretty girls to ugly ones." Her broad smile curled into a smirk. "I mean 'something, something, it's what's inside that counts,' but I'm only human." She gestured to the TV as a slender blonde slipped the shoulder straps of her string bikini off under the guise of applying sunscreen to her tanned skin. "What about you?"

It was a simple question, Claire told herself. And obviously had an easy answer, right? She'd only ever dated guys; only ever wanted to fuck guys. And she'd only put lips on a gal during a game of spin the bottle and the O'Neil mistaken identity incident. Both nights had brought vengeful hangovers and not a soul shattering realization of how she liked her box packed. But the gentle kiss on her thumb still ached like a fresh sunburn, and even now the bikini clad beauty staring back at her with a casual smile and that mischievous glint in her eyes... Claire didn't lie. Her jaw hurt from thinking so hard. "I prefer boys," she managed to say, avoiding any falsehoods.

"And right now," announced May as she stood up, "I prefer margaritas. In fact I'll have another. How 'bout you?"

"One drink is plenty for me," responded Claire, her mind still distracted by the incidental kiss and its implications.