The music is loud. They're dancing, grinding. Mike and Jane are rolling around on the ground. One woman dry humps a man. A fat man without benefit of pants goes dancing by, flopping in the hot summer breeze. None of the women are wearing shirts as they dance. Maryann, laughing in a forest of bare breasts. This is not how things go, this is not like any party Tara's been to. And if everybody's in on it, if everybody is giving in, then this is that kind of party. She doesn't know about Maryann yet; she thinks these people's minds are their own. And that means they're not like her. Tara looks at Eggs -- eyes closed, smiling in pleasure, leaning luxuriously back into the masseuse -- and grabs her towel, scowling.
Jane's crawled on top of Mike; they both have the black eyes now, groaning like animals. Tara walks past them, on the ground; she walks past a blonde girl against a tree, eyes black, breasts free, pouring a bottle of wine into her mouth, letting it run down her face, down her neck, between her breasts, staring up at nothing, only the taste, the pleasure of it on her skin in the hot summer night. All of them beautiful, all of them terrible, all of them lost to abandon.
In the quiet, away from the music, inside the house, Eggs pursues Tara. She stops on the stairs and he tries to explain: they're all just drunk, just lost and carried away. No harm. Tara shakes her head, jealous and afraid of them all now. "Is this what Maryann's about? Are you in The Lifestyle?" He's confused, because what? "Lifestyle? Tara, that's just a bunch of drunk-ass people trying to let loose, have a good time. That's got nothing to do with us." She shakes her head: there is no "us," she tells him. Not if this is his "scene." I love how we're so relatively ungross, or over it maybe, that we don't even have words for it, so we have to use ridiculous '70s words to even get the point across. That phrase "open relationship" always makes me giggle too.
Sam turns out the last light in his trailer and grabs one last bag. He's wearing a brown T-shirt and looks fine as hell. Dean comes up wagging his tail, and Sam agrees to go for one more run through the forest, laughing, dropping his shirt as he runs.
Sookie chuckles at the Forever 21 shopping bags as they bring them in from the car. "Underneath that tough vampire exterior, you're nothing but a big softie!" He smirks. "Don't tell anybody." She looks through the bags, laughing in spite of herself, and says it's a whole lot of pink. He's immediately scared and sad, worried that he fucked up, and she gives him a sweet smile. "But I'm sure Jessica will love it." Bill starts talking about how "ladies' clothing stores" use to sell petticoats, and in his inimitable Bill way, goes around his ass to get to his elbow so he can nudge Sookie into wearing one sometime. "Actually, I kind of miss them at times. They left something to the imagination. Unfastening them required a certain skill..." She gets sexy right back at him, because well played, Bill Compton. "I think there's a Halloween store around here that might still have some..." He calls her a tease and they laugh, grateful the crisis has blown over again, and pushing into the house, kissing, leaving the bags outside.