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In the half-light of the hallway, I could see stains all across the front of Laurent's white skinny jeans, as if someone has splashed red wine on him, and I knew he must have regretted his choice of pants. I turned on the light so that nobody got injured, and they fell through my door, laughing and carrying on. In the brighter illumination, I could see that it wasn't a wine stain, but rather three distinct shades of red lipgloss across the crotch of his white jeans, and I realized that he probably had no regrets at all. The door closed behind me without much acknowledgement from Irene or the twins, although my fiancée looked wasted. I heard her struggle to form a complete sentence, just before I left.
"I don't think that is a very good idea," Irene said, slurring her words. "I promised Oscar that."
"Come on Irene," Laurent said, clearly much more in charge of his faculties than my fiancée, "it will be fun. No one need ever know. I will use a condom."
