Krystal was drunk.
It hadn’t taken much, maybe three or four nauseatingly pink cocktails and a shot or two and she was slurring her words, teetering wildly in the dangerously thin heeled shoes she wore.
Rachel quirked an eyebrow at the sight in front of her. She was amused, which didn’t occur often. She had known when she’d invited the woman to her ridiculously mundane office Christmas party that she couldn’t hold her liquor. She also knew for a fact that there would be an open bar.
“This place is nice.” Krystal stage whispered as Rachel led her to a sofa in a underpopulated area of the room. “And these drinks are nice…and you smell like, really, really nice.” She slumped, putting her head on Rachel’s shoulder. “Your perfume has to be like, really expensive.”
“You are very intoxicated.”
As a rule, she abhorred drunkenness in others as it brought out their worst qualities; Sarah, all rough edges and poor judgement, Cosima, a babbling fool, Alison, hand wringing neurosis, Helena, who didn’t really drink but whom Rachel thought would have been slightly more tolerable if she did.
There was nothing about Krystal at the moment that particularly irked her. She kept running her tongue over her bottom lip, giggling when it got stuck on the gloss there and touching Rachel’s arm when she talked, a casual gesture she wouldn’t have tolerated from anyone else, that sparked under bare skin, raised goosebumps.
She also kept leaning over, giving Rachel a view of ample cleavage in the tight white dress she had worn.
Rachel looked away.
She should have cut her off before she got sloppy and embarrassed her in front of her business associates and she opened her mouth to tell that very thing to the bartender. But then Krystal grinned, a wide toothy smile, brushed her long blonde hair over her shoulder and Rachel ordered her another.
It should have come as no surprise then, when Rachel found herself pinned to the wall outside the restaurant, Krystal pressed flush against her.
“You talk way too much,” she informed Rachel unintelligibly. Her breath was almost unbearably sweet. “Always giving people orders, trying to be like, the biggest bitch ever.” She ran a finger down the soft cashmere of Rachel’s coat. “Why did you even ask me to come tonight? Am I a big joke to you?”
“You amuse me. And that’s more than I can say for a lot of people.”
Krystal’s brazen hostility was slightly unsettling but no more unsettling than the fact that she was touching Rachel’s mouth, smearing the lipstick with her nail, her eyes wide and sparking with something dangerous.
“You think you can just run that pretty mouth of yours whenever you want.” Krystal slowly skidded her thumb across the bottom Rachel’s lip, tracing moisture.
“Yes,” Rachel grabbed her finger in one gloved hand and nipped at it, ignoring Krystal’s yelp as she ran it along the ridges of sharp teeth.
“You see,” she turned them in a single swift movement so that Krystal was the one pinned, “I can do whatever I want to. With my mouth, or otherwise. I think we both know that, don’t we.“
Krystal’s answer was a hungry, eager kiss.