The Witness

with an involuntary sound, almost of pain—and the world revolved.
    “Sweet,” he murmured, and the vibration of the words against her lips, the warmth of his breath inside her mouth, triggered a shiver down her spine.
    “Very sweet.” His teeth grazed over her bottom lip as he eased back, studied her. “I like you.”
    “I like you, too. I liked kissing you.”
    “Then we must do it again, while we dance.” He brought her to her feet, brushed his lips to hers again. “You aren’t—the word, the word … jaded. This is the word. Not like so many women who come in to dance and drink and flirt with men.”
    “I don’t have a lot of experience with any of that.”
    Those black eyes sparkled in the pulsing lights. “Then the other men aren’t so lucky as me.”
    Elizabeth glanced back toward Julie as Ilya drew her to the dance floor and saw that her friend was also being kissed. Not gently, not slowly, but Julie seemed to like it—in fact, was fully participating, so—
    Then Ilya drew her into his arms, swaying with her unlike all theothers who rushed and shook and spun. Just swaying while his mouth came to hers again.
    She stopped thinking about chemical reactions and nerve endings. Instead, she did her best to participate fully. Instinct brought her arms up to lock around his neck. When she felt the change in him, the hardening pressing against her, she knew it was a normal, even involuntary, physical reaction.
    But she knew the wonder of it all the same. She’d caused the reaction. He wanted her, when no one ever had.
    “What you do to me,” he whispered in her ear. “Your taste, your scent.”
    “It’s pheromones.”
    He looked down at her, brow knitted. “Is what?”
    “Nothing.” She pressed her face to his shoulder.
    She knew the alcohol impaired her judgment, but she didn’t care. Even knowing the reason she didn’t care was because of the impairment, she lifted her face again. This time she initiated the kiss.
    “We should sit,” he said after a long moment. “You make my knees weak.”
    He held her hand as they walked back to the table. Julie, eyes overbright, face flushed, popped to her feet. She teetered a minute, laughed, grabbed her purse.
    “We’ll be right back. Come on, Liz.”
    “Where?”
    “Where else? The ladies’.”
    “Oh. Excuse me.”
    Julie hooked arms with her as much for balance as solidarity. “Oh my God. Can you believe it? We like got the hottest guys in the club. Jesus, they’re so sexy. And yours has that accent. I wish mine had the accent, but he kisses so much better than Darryl. He practically owns the club, you know, and like has this house on the lake. We’re all going to get out of here and go there.”
    “To his house? Do you think we should?”
    “Oh, we should.” Julie shoved open the bathroom door, took a look at the line for the stalls. “Typical, and I really have to pee! I’ve got such a buzz! How’s your guy—does he kiss good? What’s his name again?”
    “Ilya. Yes, he’s very good. I like him, very much, but I’m not sure we should go with them to Alex’s house.”
    “Oh, loosen up, Liz. You can’t let me down now. I’m totally going to do it with Alex, and I can’t go over there with him alone—not on the first date. You don’t have to do it with Ilya if you’re all virginal.”
    “Sex is a natural and necessary act, not only for procreation but, certainly in humans, for pleasure and the release of stress.”
    “Get you.” Julie elbowed her. “So you don’t like think I’m a slut for doing it with Alex?”
    “It’s an unfortunate by-product of a patriarchal society that women are deemed sluttish or cheap for engaging in sex for pleasure while men are considered vital. Virginity shouldn’t be a prize to be won, or withheld. The hymen has no rewarding properties, grants no powers. Women should—no, must—be allowed to pursue their own sexual gratification, whether or not procreation is the goal or the relationship a monogamous one, just as a man is free to do so.”
    A lanky redhead fluffed her hair, then gave Elizabeth a dazzling smile as she walked by. “Sing it, sister.”
    Elizabeth leaned close to Julie as the woman continued out. “Why would I sing?” she whispered.
    “It’s just an expression. You know, Liz, I figured you for a cross your legs, no touching below the waist and only over the clothes sort.”
    “A lack of experience doesn’t make me a prude.”
    “Got it. You know I sort