He was right that it was a dive. The place looked like a strong gust of wind would knock it over. Hawaiian knickknacks on the walls, straw on the floor. Troy found us the last two barstools and ordered us double margaritas.

“Margaritas to celebrate!” He clinked glasses with me.

He was in a great mood . . . so it must have gone well with Jennifer at the party. “I almost bought this place last year,” he told me. “They had been having a tough time, but they got it together.”

“This place is great.” I said in a hollow voice. It might have been great if I were a freshman in college and this was the only place that would take my fake ID. Chez Jay was, literally, a shack. I took another sip of my margarita and tried to ignore the fact that we were within walking distance of Shutters, with their extensive selection of wines and their tranquil lobby bar overlooking the sands of Santa Monica. Troy insisted on another round, complete with a tequila shooter. With the wine at Capo, drinks at the party, and now all these Chez Jay margaritas, I was more than a little shitfaced. Somewhere after the second margarita and the tequila shot, we started kissing, more like sucking faces, as if we were a couple of high schoolers. I didn’t care that people were looking. It wasn’t like there was anyone here that I knew. Now I felt great. I was proud of myself for getting through the evening’s change in plans and the party. Troy was obviously really into me, and I felt all warm.

Troy paid the check. It was getting really late and Chez Jay was getting ready to close. Back in his Range Rover, he was on top of me before I could get my seat belt on. More furious kissing. He helped me move into the backseat and flopped on top of me, putting one hand up my shirt and the other up my skirt. I started pulling his shirt out and sliding my hands up his furry chest. My head was spinning and I was glad I was lying flat because I might have been weaving at this point if I had been upright.

I knew we shouldn’t be doing this in a car—I knew he wouldn’t have any respect for me if we actually had sex like this—but I hadn’t been with anyone since Dave last May, and that was almost six months ago. Troy had my panties down now and I kicked a leg free to flick them all the way off. Now his hands were really everywhere. We had plenty of room in the Range Rover; this was probably a selling point. I had rolled on top now and his shirt was off. His eyes were closed and his head was thrown back as I came in again to start kissing his neck.

Smack!