WHEN I RETURNED home from my successful excursion into the labor market, I was totally liquored up. TransGlobal spared no expense. They provided an open bar and a freely flowing supply of champagne, along with sushi appetizers. It was a great party.

I also got to admit, I was also sexed up. Sometime between Tad and Valentina doing an awkward Lambada and Miss Buttfuckegypt standing on a table while giving us her Miss Buttfuckeypt acceptance speech, Snow and I disappeared upstairs to her suite. After all, she had an amazing view. Not that I paid any attention, since my head was buried in her crotch and her head was buried in mine.

Gay, straight, whatever. I hate labels. What I love is sex. I've always been more of a "you're pretty, let's do it" kind of person.

Anyway, after a few hours of complete girl on girl decadence, I looked at my watch and realized it was after 7 pm. Not so late, but late enough for Alex to start questioning. I threw on my clothes, scurried home, and danced into the living room, where Alex sat with the dog, reading a brief.

"Hey baby!" I sang. "Guess what?"

He looked at me over his reading glasses. "What?"

"I'm a stewardess!"

"Seriously?"

"Yes." I waggled a finger at him. "I smiled, looked pretty, and kept my mouth shut, and you know, it worked! Yay me!"

"I'm...I don't...that's great, babe. Surprising, but great. Yay you." He took off his reading glasses and gazed at me. "And you've been celebrating."

I unfastened my skirt and let it drop to the floor. "A little. The champagne was a flowing."

"Was it now."

I smiled and slowly unbuttoned my shirt. "Get naked, old man. You're going to have sex with a stewardess!"

He kind of smiled at that and pushed the dog off the couch. "You know I had made plans to take you out to celebrate."

"You did? That's sweet." I stepped out of my shoes and sat on his crotch. "Let's have sex first."

His eyes grew darker, but instead of unfastening my bra, he took a lock of my hair and smelled it. "That's not your perfume."

I made myself more comfortable on his crotch. "What's not my perfume?"

"Siobhan. Don't play games. Why do you smell like another woman's cologne?"

I began moving gently back and forth. "I was surrounded by women, Alex. Of course I smell like their perfume. Now take off my bra."

He stared at me. "Siobhan. The truth."

"What?" I stared back. "Omigod. Okay. I admit it. I did make some friends. Now get busy. I need to feel you inside of me."

He grabbed my shoulders and held me still. "The whole truth, Siobhan. What kind of friends?"

I smiled at the memory. "The kind with a perfect set of double Es and an amazingly talented tongue."

Before I knew what was happening, he pushed me off of him and onto the couch. "Siobhan, we've talked about this. I don't mind that you like having sex with women. I just ask that you do it while I'm in the room." He got up and went to the kitchen. The dog followed.

I stared after him, stunned. I mean, there I was, in a sheer la Perla bra and panties set that left nothing to the imagination, and he storms off into the kitchen? What the hell? "You are not making an issue out of this," I yelled and marched into the kitchen after him.

He stood at the kitchen island with a tumbler full of scotch. "Listen, I know you like girls, baby. But when you have sex with a girl, and I'm not involved, it's cheating."

I rolled my eyes. That was asinine. "Says who?" It's not cheating to have sex with another girl. Or girls. At least, that's the way I see it.

"Me," he answered, and took a deep swallow. "I say it. And I say its cheating."

"I don't agree." I pulled myself up on the island and spread my legs. "But you can punish me if you like." I crossed my wrists in front of me and winked. "Will Mr. Cosetino see me now?"

He slammed his drink, then said, "Siobhan, you need to take me seriously. Stop having sex with girls without me."

I reached behind me and opened my bra. "Are you jealous?" I asked as I let it fall to the floor. "It doesn't become you."

"Yeah, well, I'm marrying you, and I expect fidelity." He slammed the rest of his drink. "That includes sex with girls."

"Seriously? What if the girl was smoking hot?" I wiggled out of my thong and let them drop to the floor.

He stared at me, then growled, "Bring her home."

"What if it's just an encounter?" I asked as I began stroking myself. "Like, say I'm at a store, and this salesgirl is hot, and I'm trying on lingerie, and then she comes into the dressing room and suggests that the best way to get a measurement is if I'm naked..." I let my voice trail off. The pleasure was taking hold. I closed my eyes.

"Don't tell me. You did a salesgirl?"

I opened my eyes. Success! He was finally in between my legs.

"No, she did me," I corrected. "And then there was the waitress, and the museum docent, and the model I ran into at Starbucks...is it my fault it's so easy to get laid here?" I used my legs to pull him closer. "Now make love to me, Alex. I'm all naked here."

He had his hands on my breast, down my back, and between my thighs. "Is there any woman in New York you haven't had sex with?"

"I'm sure there's someone. Why are you asking me hard questions when you should be making love to me?"

He pulled me closer, until our faces were inches apart. "Tell me, Siobhan?"

"Amelia. But I think she's curious. Prison may have turned her."

He nipped my bottom lip. "Well, that's a relief. What about Molly?"

"I did her last year. Julian was pushing for a threesome, so I showed her a few tricks. She swears it saved her marriage."

He slanted his mouth over mine. "Are you telling me you had sex with my sister-in-law?"

"Yeah. And she's a dirty girl."

To my disappointment, he pulled his head back. "Siobhan. It's a bright line. No more sex without me."

Like that was going to happen, but I'm good telling people what they need to hear. I sighed. "Alright, Alex. I'll stop having sex with girls without you."

He slanted his mouth and started kissing me with light flicks of his tongue against mine. I moaned, but he made sure to keep the pace slow, as he laid his hands on either side of my face. When he broke from the kiss, he looked me in the eyes and asked, "Do you mean it?"

"Sure I mean it," I panted, "but you've got to know that it means you'll have to work harder."

He half smiled and kissed me again, crushing my face with his, and pushing me down on the cool marble. "Then I better get busy."

I closed my eyes and lost myself to the sensation of him and his touch, secure in the knowledge that I retained my dominant position in this household. Men. They're so simple, really.

Anyway, the next morning when I woke up, I was feeling all satisfied and content. I don't know whether it was the sex - because on top of the girl sex, Alex took me for hours and hours, and it was so awesome - or if it was the fact I has something to look forward to that was my own. For the first time in weeks, I didn't even want to break up with Alex.

"You look like you're in a good mood today," Alex said as I came waltzing down the stairs.

"I am in a good mood. I got laid last night." I swung my leg over his lap, sat down, and straightened his tie. "Why don't you stay home today and do me some more?"

"Sadly, I have to work," he replied, gently lifting me up from his lap. "We'll pick it up tonight. You can call your friend if you want."

"She went back to Kansas," I told him and wrapped my arms around him. "Besides, she's in a relationship. I'm not sure her sugar daddy would want to share her with you."

"Ah. Well, we'll have to find you a new friend."

"That's fine. I like making new friends."

"Uh huh." He kissed my cheek. "Remember what I said. No having sex with girls without me, Siobhan."

"Alex, you set an awfully high bar," I groaned. "What if I can't help it? I'm a sexy girl."

"Learn some self-control," he told me as he stood up and put on his jacket.

"Good advice," I told him as I dropped my robe. I had neglected to put on my nightgown so, well, I was all naked. "See you tonight, baby. I'll be here, naked, waiting for you."

Before I knew he had swept me up into his arms and onto the kitchen table, knocking the remains of breakfast onto the floor. Somewhere in the distance, the dog started barking. "Damn you vex me, woman," he muttered as he buried his face in my breasts.

"What was that about self-control?"

He didn't answer. His mouth was too busy doing other things.

Afterwards, I took a shower and met up with Amelia/Molly for my wedding gown fitting. It wasn't something I was looking forward to, but it had to get done; Amelia could be such a bitch about schedules, and apparently we were behind. Whatev.

The fitting took place in a renovated loft/showroom in Soho. I was standing on a platform and staring at myself in a three-way mirror. I looked like crap. "Can't it be...tighter?"

Amelia looked at me blankly, which meant she was irritated. "No."

Amelia had selected this very traditional long white gown with a princess bodice and long, full, crinoline skirt complete with a freaking train.

"Come on, this dress makes me look like a teenager."

"You are a teenager."

"I won't be in a month....Amelia, I'm putting my foot down." I climbed down off the platform. "Can't we do something tight and strapless?" I looked down at the poor wedding gown designer who looked like he might pass out. "I look like an Estee Lauder commercial."

"Thank you," beamed the designer, until he realized I didn't mean it as a compliment. "Why don't I go and let you two discuss?" He scurried out of the room, taking his assistant with him.

Amelia walked over to me and started fixing messing with the bodice. "Part of the problem is that it's not fitting you correctly." She nodded at another assistant. "Find Aldo..."

"No. Don't find Aldo," I told her. "Amelia, I'm serious. I hate this dress."

"The dress is fine." She waved at the assistant who scurried off in abject terror.

I turned to Molly, who was sitting on a Victorian style couch made out of chrome with grey velvet cushions. She was staring at her phone in horror. "Molly, I could use some help here."

"Quiet! Baby Cosetino's been waitlisted for preschool. I have to fix this." She fumed as she quickly dialed and then put the phone up to her ear. "Hello. This is Mrs. Julian Cosetino. I've noticed that my child has been moved to the waitlist, and I want to know why." She stood up and started to pace.

"Preschools have waitlists?" I asked Amelia.

"The good ones do."

"Yes, I know!" shouted Molly. "I am well aware that you have several thousand applicants and only a few spaces, but we had already been accepted. I don't want an apology! I want an explanation!" She paused, her face growing redder and redder. "So you're telling me that my child was moved down to accommodate this Princess Sophia of Saxe-Coburg de Gotha?"

I looked at Amelia. "Interpret."

"The child has been demoted and his place given to some European brat." She began fiddling again. "Ridiculous, really. The Saxe-Coburg de Gotha line is honorary. No land. No money." She sighed. "Ridiculous."

Molly had gone from red to purple. "Well, I'll tell you this. It's promissory estoppel. I relied on your promise of acceptance and removed my child's applications from other schools, and now we've been detrimentally impacted as a result. I'm calling my husband."

I watched as she stormed out of the room. "Isn't she only six months pregnant?" I asked Amelia.

"She must get him fully admitted now, otherwise it's too late," Amelia replied.

"But she's really upset. I don't think it's healthy for her to be this upset."

"It's a very good preschool," Amelia explained. "It will ruin that child's life if he doesn't get in. Miscarriage would be kinder."

My jaw dropped. "Well, go fix it for her, then."

Amelia flared a nostril. "There's nothing I can do. My authority extends only to myself, my husband, and my direct bloodline. It's very difficult being new money. You'll see."

i took umbrage at that. "I'll have you know that my family's been wealthy for over a hundred and fifty years."

She smiled abstractly while she continued to fiddle with the bodice. "We define wealth differently."

"I went to an all-girls boarding school."

"In Switzerland? France, maybe?"

"Michigan's UP," I acknowledged. "But it was a bilingual boarding school attached to a convent."

She managed a patronizing nod. "That's nice."

I was not about to be drop this. "I'm a damned debutante, Amelia."

She raised an eyebrow. "Where? Was it Des Moines? I can't remember."

"Chicago," I seethed.

"That cow town?" she dismissed. "Was it at a State Fair?"

"I hate you," I told her.

"The truth is hard, little girl. Now, let's fix this bodice."

I pushed away from her and climbed back up on the platform. "I'm serious, Amelia. I'm not wearing this piece of crap. I want something form fitting and that doesn't weigh 100 pounds," I turned towards the mirror. "I look stupid."

Before I could account for it, Amelia was standing behind me, twisting my good arm behind my back. "You will wear this dress, little girl. Now stop whining and do what you're told."

Telling me to do what you're told is never a good thing to say to me. "Sure Amelia," I said through my teeth. Sounds great."

"Oh, I know that tone, little girl," she hissed. "You're thinking that you're going to show me by acting out in some way or another, but you're not." She held my arm up higher. It was starting to hurt a little.

"I'm not?" I asked through gritted teeth. "Please do explain."

"First of all, I am Aldo's patron. Having you wear his dress will do for him what Caroline Bissett Kennedy did for Narciso Rodriguez. Second, Alexander has approved and paid for it. Third, when you walk down the aisle, you want to look pure, virginal, unsullied." She paused. "Now, while we all know those adjectives don't apply to you, no one else needs to." She dropped my arm.

I looked at her in the mirror. She was completely unfazed. She could have been shopping for lipstick, or giving her housekeeper the daily grocery list, or running over a homeless person then hiding his body on her South Hamptons estate. "You're scary, Amelia. I want to be more like you."

Her lips turned up and almost formed a smile. "Be a whore in the bedroom, little girl, but not when you walk down the aisle. At least, for your first marriage."

I sighed. "Can't I wear Caroline Bissett Kennedy's dress?"

"No."

"Amelia...you suck."

"Thank you."

"Alright." I rolled my eyes. "I'll wear it."

"Of course you will. I'll go find Aldo." She sighed. "He's a brilliant designer, but I've noticed that strong women can make him lose bladder control."

The moment she walked out, Molly walked back in, sobbing, with three strange women in tow. For a moment I thought they were sisters; they all had the same expensive, skeletal, flawless look I'd been seeing all over town.

"Oh, Molly, don't worry, I'm sure Julian will fix it," said one the one closest to Molly. "I'm sure it will all work out. Everything will be fine."

"It won't be fine!" Molly cried. "How will it be fine? If he doesn't get in, his life will be ruined!" She patted her stomach. "Poor baby Cosetino. Don't you worry, baby. We're going to fix this."

"Waitlisting isn't so bad," said the second women. "I heard Regan's daughter was waitlisted, and she got in. Just as long as he's first or second on the list."

"He's sixth!" howled Molly.

The three women glanced at each other and sighed collectively. "Well, maybe you should go overseas for his formative years," suggested the third. "That way you can use the excuse you weren't in the city as opposed to having to deal with the abject humiliation of not getting in."

Molly cried harder.

Nobody messes with my Molly. I climbed down from the platform and up to the group, dragging the train behind me. "Molly, what's the matter?" I asked, feigning ignorance. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh, Siobhan, it's terrible," she sobbed. "Just terrible."

The three women nodded sympathetically, although I had the feeling they were here less concerned about Molly and more curious about me.

"Is this Alexander's fiancé?" said the first. "Well, aren't you..."

"Young!" finished the second. "You're very young, aren't you?"

"How old are you?" asked the third. "I mean, really?"

Bitch. I pointed a truth bomb at them and fired. "19, but I'll be 20 next month."

The three of them stared at me.

"I'm Siobhan!" I said brightly. "My favorite colors are crystal and this color right here." I pointed to a bead on my bodice right in front of my cleavage. "I like to shop and go to movies. Gosh, you guys are really pretty."

"Siobhan..." Molly growled.

"19," repeated the second. "That's very young."

"So now. How did you and Alexander meet?" asked the first one, her smile not quite meeting her eyes.

"He's a family friend. I've been in love with him since I was a little girl." I thrust my hand her face. "Look at the ring he gave me. It's, like, I don't know, 100 a hundred karats?"

"My God," muttered the third woman, "that's vintage Van Cleef & Arpels."

I pulled my hand away and looked at the ring. "Why does everybody know that except me?"

"Have you...are you...school?" stuttered the second.

"Oh! No! I'm a flight attendant!" I answered all perkily. "I work for TransGlobal Airlines!"

Molly groaned. "The baby...I need to sit."

The three women, so engrossed in staring at me, barely noticed Molly's distress.

"Come on, Molly," I said pushing through the group and led Molly back over to the couch.

"Stop it, Siobhan," Molly whispered in my ear as I sat her down. "They know everybody!"

"What the fuck, Molly?" I whispered back. "Is this Age of Innocence 2.0?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Yes, it is."

Before I could reply, Amelia announced herself. "Daphne. Erica. Peyton. How nice of you to stop by."

The three whirled around.

"Oh! Amelia!" said the first. "Wonderful to see you."

"Yes, quite," said the third. "We've...been getting to know your future sister-in-law."

Amelia stared at them, emotionless.

"She's quite young," exclaimed the second.

Amelia continued to stare.

"Well. Look at that," said the first, looking like it was all she could do to not high tail it out of the building. "Molly. Please. Give us a call and let us know what happens." She turned to me. "Siobhan...lovely to meet you. We must do this again. Have a wonderful day."

"Wonderful day," echoed the others as they ran out past Amelia.

Amelia glared at Molly. "Did you have to let them in?"

"They're my friends," moaned Molly. "They were here to comfort me."

"They were here to meet Siobhan," countered Amelia. "We're waiting until after the wedding to introduce her, remember."

"God, not another introduction," I moaned. "I don't have to curtsey and wear white, do I? Curtseying sucks."

"Quiet, Siobhan," Amelia snapped, "grownups are talking. Really, Molly, what were you thinking? You know that Peyton took it hard when Alexander broke it off with her." She looked at her watch. "It's not that I care, but she made such a fuss. I hate fusses."

I perked up. "Which one was Peyton?"

"The one who kept talking about your age," said Molly.

"Ah." I grinned and nodded. "Now I get it."

"Siobhan, take the dress off," Amelia commanded, waving at me. "We'll have to burn it now that they've seen it."

Aldo, who had crept in behind Amelia, shrieked, clutched his heart, and fell to the floor in a dead faint.

Amelia turned. "No more. I'm going home. I can't handle all this emotion. It's not healthy." She stepped over Aldo's body and walked out the door.

I watched her leave and felt confused. "I do not know what to do," I commented.

Molly waved. "Take off the dress, Siobhan. I need a drink."

"You can't drink. You're pregnant."

"I've had the amnio. It's all good. I need a glass of red wine after this day."

She must have read on GOOP or something it was okay to have red wine when pregnant. I pointed at the designer on the ground. "Shouldn't somebody help him?" I asked. After all he hadn't really moved, and the only thing his assistants had done was to pull down a fabric remnant to use a blanket.

Molly rolled her eyes, and got her phone out, but it ran before she could dial. "It's the school," she said breathlessly. "Hello? Yes, this is she... that's fabulous! Thank you! Thank you so much." She beamed at me. "Baby Cosetino's back in! Isn't that wonderful?"

"That's great, Molly," I replied. "Now call 911 for the dead guy."

_____ * _____ * _____ * _____ * _____

Siobhan's future sisters-in-law are a trip. And what's up with the dress?

Thank you so much for taking time to read Siobhan's story! I look forward to your comments, and if you liked it, please remember to vote!

©Copyright Liz Charnes May 2018

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