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Hope Smiles from the Threshold of the [New] Year to Come

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Christmas was good; Cora enjoyed actually meeting her brother and Stiles’ friends. Too many people in her apartment that she didn’t know though.

And Laura still hadn’t moved out.

Finding an apartment was tough, and Cora was so thankful that Derek was so supportive of her. She wished that Laura had the same support, but she understood that her sister had burned her bridges with TNT and C4. No chance of rebuilding them because she had altered the very foundation any relationship could be built on.

It was depressing and it sucked for her, but tonight was a different beast. Tonight, Cora tucked away those thoughts, left Laura crying over a tub of Rocky Road while she watched documentaries about homosexuality in nature, and headed out for the last hurrah of the year.

Since Derek and Stiles were still in the honeymoon stage of their engagement (she didn’t think her brother would ever walk without a soft hiss of discomfort or a hint of a smile again, and she really didn’t need that much information about him), Cora decided to do the whole New Year’s Eve bar crawl by herself. She was legal. She could go out and get drunk. She didn’t need other people to have a good time.

At first, it was okay. Good even. Several other groups doing the bar crawl let her share their transportation and she got to dance with the beautiful people.

Then, at the last bar as she was grinding on a blonde bombshell decked out in a short, gold, sequined dress and thigh-high black leather boots, her uncle Peter cut in.

Peter’s hair was slicked to the side, a sure sign that he had a pretty young thing waiting for his dick, or more likely, that he was hunting some PYT that wanted nothing to do with his dick. His clothes suggested a nice night out on the town, a powder blue smoking jacket and dark blue slacks. His tie was missing and his undershirt was unbuttoned enough to show the top of his waxed chest.

Cora did not appreciate the interruption to her sensual dance and crossed her arms over her chest to help glare Peter down. She shuddered under the way his gaze dragged down her body and back up. Her fingers itched to tear his throat out for his audacity.

“I should have known they would corrupt you,” he said snidely, nodding at her like that made any sense.

Cora played dumb. “Who corrupted me?” she asked innocently. The people around them kept dancing, the music pounding bass that thumped in her chest like a second heartbeat.

“You know who,” Peter said. “The sinners.”

Cora stepped back from him. “Your new ex-girlfriend is my age,” she said. “You divorced your first wife, the mother of my cousin because you kept cheating on her. ‘Thou shalt not commit adultery.’ How many times have you done that? ‘Do not give false witness against thy neighbor.’ How many times have you lied about your neighbors?” Cora ticked her fingers briefly before abandoning the task. “I’ve lost count already.”

Peter opened his mouth to respond, and Cora hurried on, adding, “You spew hatred and ignorance. If anyone is a sinner, it’s you.”

Blonde Bombshell stepped between them, eyeing Peter with poorly disguised disgust.

“Is there a problem here?” she asked Cora.

Peter’s eyes widened, a lascivious grin twisting his mouth grotesquely.

“Oh hell no,” Blonde Bombshell said. “You do not get to eye me up like I’m some slab of meat and you’re a starving wolf.”

“Oh, honey,” Peter purred, reaching out a hand to curl around Blonde Bombshell’s waist, “I’m so much more refined than a wild animal. And so much better at eating women.” He winked at her.

Blonde Bombshell rolled her eyes and trod on Peter’s foot as hard as she could in her four-inch heels. When he hunched over in pain, she slammed her fist onto the back of his neck.

While he was down, she spit on him. “Don’t ever touch me again.” She stomped toward the bar, the crowd parting around her. Cora stood still for a moment, not to see if Peter was okay. Unfortunately he was. But, rather because she’d been shocked into inaction. Blonde Bombshell was firece and beautiful and Cora was in love.

She tripped over her own feet scrambling after her. Yeah, they’d just been dancing, but Cora didn’t know if there was more on the table. If there was, oh fuck yeah she was down for it.

She caught up with Blonde Bombshell at the bar, leaping onto the empty stool and staring down the poor bastard she’d just elbowed in her mad dash to catch her Aphrodite, her Sappho.

Blonde Bombshell noticed her and laughed, sliding over a multicolored shot. “Need more?” she asked when Cora threw it back.

Cora shook her head, screwing her courage to the sticking place and all that (although she was definitely not down for some murder, yo). “I was thinking, since you and I were such great dance partners, you’d like another go-around?”

Blonde Bombshell laughed again, knocking back her own shot. “Sure, if you wanna come home with me after and help my boyfriend and me answer an important question.”

Cora faltered. Boyfriend?

“Oh, too much?” Blonde Bombshell turned back to the bar, signaling for another drink.

“No,” Cora said, but the noise swallowed it up and Blonde Bombshell ignored her. Cora fidgeted, tapping the bar and turning to watch Peter be thrown out by the large bouncer. She turned back around to find Blonde Bombshell watching her. Could Cora really go home with two people in a committed relationship? Could she really fuck one of them (or both) or just watch?

She didn’t know. All she was certain of was she wasn’t going to let the opportunity go. If everyone was willing, what was the harm?

“What’s the question?” she asked.

Blonde Bombshell’s face lit up in delight. “Are blondes louder than brunettes?”

“We might need to test that hypothesis many times,” Cora said.

“In many positions,” Blonde Bombshell added. She stuck her hand out, and Cora took it. They didn’t shake, just twined their fingers together. “I’m Erica, by the way.”

“Cora.”

The bouncer who’d tossed Peter on his ass stepped up behind Blonde—Erica—and leaned down to kiss her neck. He pulled back up, eyeing Cora and their joined hands appreciatively. “I’m off in about ten minutes, babe.”

“Awesomeness. This is Cora. She’s going to help us answer that question.”

The bouncer nodded. “I’m Boyd, Cora. It’s nice to meet you.” He reached out and grabbed Cora and Erica’s joined hands, squeezing briefly before letting go. “I’m going to clock out now. Meet you out front in a bit.”

Erica dug some money out of a little bag hanging down her bodice, setting enough down to cover the drinks and a tip. Then, still holding Cora’s hand, she led her outside.

It was cold before Erica draped her coat over her. This felt more like a date than a one-night stand, and Cora found herself wishing it would be more.

Erica smiled. “Wanna practice kissing?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Boyd joined them quickly after that and they took an Uber back to their apartment.

Clothes came off and slots were fitted together, and come midnight, it turned out that brunettes were louder than blondes.

At least, that’s what Erica told Cora afterward when she laid there, too blissed out to move.

And the one-night stand did develop into something more because they really needed to replicate those results to make sure the data wasn’t skewed.

~ Fin ~