I got to the party late. I had known it was fancy dress but as usual, I hadn't bothered, instead spending longer than I should have in the pub. The door opened as I got to the end of the drive, a skeleton and a sleeping beauty emerge, allowing me to slip in behind them. A few people stand in the corridor, two men in suits share an animated conversation whilst a roman soldier French kisses a surprisingly plain Marilyn Monroe.
I take a swig from my bottle of larger as I move passed them, coming to stop in the livingroom doorway. Music blares out from two huge speakers that dwarf the room. The Dj's shaven head bobs up and down above the decks whilst a writhing thong surge up and down before him. My eyes pick up friendly faces, and glimpses of cleavage.
A flash of white attracts their gaze, the blouse of a schoolgirl draped on a goddess who dances in the centre. My eyes pass over her body, curvy and voluptuous, strong sturdy thighs encased in nylon, two sumptuous inviting breasts that struggle to escape from the black bra that pokes out tantalisingly. I know instantly that it's Jane even if I've never seen her like this before, her body free from the layers that leave it sexless. She whirls round the dance floor with a confidence and sexuality that I've not seen before, I cannot help but become mesmerised.
It's impossible to do anything but mentally kick myself as I watch this vision weave her spell. I ask myself how many times had I rejected her before she dared throw off her inhibitions and unveil her dangerous beauty. It's as though she taunts me, showing me what I could have had, showing me what I could have won.
As she prowls the dance floor the surrounding men's gaze moves with her, her curves proving too enticing to escape the leers of those around her. Skinny bitches try to distract us but they do nothing but provide an unwelcome obstacle to sight of this glorious queen bee. They watch her with jealous envious eyes, wanting to be her, wanting to fuck her. For she is more than them, bigger, better, sexier. For why have a snack when you can have a feast?
As I watch her I realise how stupid I was to ignore her before, not for the manner in which she dresses, but for the way she carries herself. Gone is the doubt, the shyness, to be replaced by a woman too intoxicating for words.
Suddenly a tall dark stranger comes up behind her, his hands coming to sit on her hips. She spins round, a smile on her face. They dance closely, her body rubbing against his, his hands stroking and groping. I expect her to resist, she doesn't instead she pulls him closer, her long black boot positioned between his legs, her thigh rubbing his bulging crotch.
I can't believe what she's doing but I can't take my eyes off her. She's sexy and naughty, she kisses him and I want her.
She spins again, turning her back to her partner. Our eyes meet, hers excited and curious; mine, jealous and lustful.
She smiles at me as he pushes her forward, leaving her sumptuous arse pressed against his. He slaps it as he thrusts forward, simulating the act that every bloke present imagines. She let's him, pushing her pert buttocks against his, rubbing his bulging crotch, seemingly wanting it, loving it.
Still she looks at me, brazen and wanton. I hate her, I hate her for I know that this is her revenge for the rejection after rejection. I hate her because she punishes me. I hate her because I love, I want her, I need her. She pushes her partner away, he leaves, annoyed and unhappy. Seconds later she stands before me, ravishing and beautiful.
'what the fuck are you doing?' I ask angrily without knowing why.
'what?' she replies irritably, seemingly hurt at the question.
'On the dance floor...' my voice trails off as my arm waves in the direction of the thong of gyrating people grouped by the decks.
'what about it?' she looks at me seriously, seemingly scrutinising my expression carefully.
'you're making a spectacle of yourself,' even as I speak I realise that I'm lying.
'oh, so that's why you've been staring at me since the moment you walked in,' she spits back with a smug grin. 'and I thought it was because you'd finally come to your senses.'
I was about to fire another put down in her direction knowing that I had to take out my frustration on her without knowing why. The words evaporate in my throat. She's right, she's sexy and she's right.
'it's not you,' I say eventually, still not knowing what I want to say. 'it's that prick.'
Hateful eyes pick him out, this six foot streak of piss who's only crime has been to chance his arm on the sexy little bitch I didn't even want.
'his hands are all over you,' I keep talking, seething at what feels like deliberate slight delivered to punish me.
'good isn't it?' she winks and licks her lips. She's winding me up, making me hate her, making me want her.
'He's only trying to get in your knickers,' I say forcefully, my voice rising an octave as I struggle to control my anger.
'well if that's his plan, he'll find it difficult,' she replies innocently. 'but only because I'm not wearing any.'
She smiles mischievously as I almost drop my drink in shock. She giggles as she registers my expression, eyes widened, mouth hanging open in disbelief. My mind is a maelstrom of emotion, a thin mist of surprise and confusion obscuring what I know as jealousy and lust.
'I don't believe you,' I say certainly, more as a reaction than a comment.
'whether you believe me or not it doesn't make it any less true,' she answers
calmly.
'you wouldn't go out without knickers, you're not that kind of girl,' I say, realising that as I speak I do more to convince myself than her.
'and what kind of girl would that be?' she asks forcefully.
'you know what I mean,' I feel uncomfortable, knowing that I'm squirming before her questions.
'I really don't,' she snaps back, although her tone is betrayed by the cheeky smile that shines through. 'why don't you tell me?'
I return her stare without flinching, unsure of what to say. I know what I think, I know how she's been acting, and as much as I hate the fact, I know how it's turning me on.
'you're acting like a slut,' I reply eventually, unable to skirt round the topic before continuing apologetically.' even though I know you're not.'