Friday Night Part 1

It's Friday night, close to 11pm. We drive through the screaming black night, Jamie, Toots and I. Hardcore house music pumps from the stereo. I lay half wasted on the back seat, my legs thrown across Toot's lap. I have a cigarette in one hand, a half - bottle of vodka in the other. My face is streaked with tears and mascara, my mind numb from all the beak and alcohol I have ingested.

JD and I have argued again. A big, screaming, violent row in front of all our friends in the pub. JD is a tosser I have decided and I just want to get rid of him from my mind. Toots looks down at me comfortingly and I smile back at him. He's a good friend. He'll look after me.

The car jolts as we approach to a halt at a red light, and I can feel the engine turn as Jamie teases the accelerator with his foot, waiting for the lights to change. The vehicle is like a loaded gun in his capable hands, he is a coiled spring at the wheel of the stolen BMW. I see his reflection in the windscreen, pale and wasted, his eyes bloodshot and faraway.

He is impatient tonight. His jaw is constantly moving as he grinds hid teeth, unable to withstand the wait at the red light. Jamie craves the speed, the thrill of the night time drive, and he eyes the traffic light like a hawk surveying it's prey. I can see nothing save Jamie's reflection. All is else is black, so I roll back my head and stare blankly at the roof of the Beamer.

I feel drunk and high, just slightly nauseous. The noise of the car and the voices of my companions all blur into one long drone that coils like a snake in the space above me. The car is alive, throbbing, the vibrations are crawling along my inner thighs and I blow smoke into the air and think I might pass out.

Then I hear the revs of the car accelerate and suddenly we are moving again, faster and faster as Jamie floors it. As I squirm on the back seat my top rises, and I get a shock from the cold leather against my naked back. It brings me round again, and I pull my self up on my elbows.

"You alright babe?" Toots asks. I nod to reassure him that I am. He has a nice smile and he gives me a cheeky wink.

"You been hitting it hard tonight," he says. I begin to laugh.

"Would you expect anything less?" I reply. My throat is dry and my voice is not much more than a hoarse croak. This time it's Toots who is laughing. I take a mouthful of vodka and pass it to him. He says his thanks and takes a hit. I turn to Jamie.

"How is he?" I ask Toots. Toots hands back the bottle.

"He's alright. Not said much said we left the pub. Think he wants to kill JD for talking to you like that."

"Well, it's nothing to do with him," I say, my eyes still trained on Jamie's reflection in the rear view mirror. And it wasn't. Jamie had his chance with me and blew it. I was JD's girl now. Or was. Now I belonged to no-one.

After what feels like an eternity the car suddenly makes a sharp right turn and we are speeding down the High Street of town. Then the breaks screech and the car comes to an unexpected halt. Jamie kills the engine and turns to face Toots and I.

"Come on" he orders. "We're here". I didn't know where "here" was, but we do as Jamie asks and get out of the BMW. You don't argue with Jamie when he is pissed. It is a cold, freezing night. I am inappropriately dressed in my top and short skirt, but Toot's gives me his jacket and I put it on. Jamie has stormed off so I follow, tottering in my heels to keep up. Toot's catches up to my side and links his arm with mine. I offer my thanks and we walk quietly in Jamie's shadow.

Jamie is in a right mood, I can tell. He takes a drags on a cigarette and takes a sly look over his shoulder to make sure we are keeping up. There is not much kindness in his handsome face tonight.

"Bloody hell," says Toots. "What's eating him now?"

I couldn't say. Jamie was known for his temper, but if this was about JD and I, it was going on a bit too long now. After all, it's not as if JD and I hadn't argued before. We were always rowing about something., and it hadn't bothered Jamie much in the past. So why now?

We had been walking a couple of minutes now and I was beginning to recognise my surroundings. This was my home town but I was pretty pissed and stoned, so it took a while for me to understand where we were and where we were going.

"Is he taking us to Starlights?" I whisper to Toots.

"Fuck knows," Toots replies in his light Jamaican lilt. "But wherever we are going, I hope we get there soon. I'm fucking freezing!"

I couldn't have agreed with Toots more. I fumble for some cigarettes and pass them to him. He lights a couple of smokes and passes them round. I look up at the sky. It is black as could be, and mad with stars. Such beauty up above this concrete jungle, this suburban hell.

I wish I could reach out and be up there amongst the stars, high above the madness of what is my young life. I feel sick and dirty. I just want to go home and sleep. No more beak or booze. Just rest and a clear head tomorrow. But that isn't going to happen, not if we are going to Starlights, the maddest, hippest club in town.

Sure enough as we follow Jamie up the street I see the gaudy neon sign pronouncing that we have arrived at the club. There is a line of young people snaking along the front of the building, waiting in the cold to get in.

The doorman are guarding the door, and as we approach I hear them shouting to the waiting punters that they are full and no-one else is to be allowed in.But Jamie just walks to the front of the line and, I don't know what he says, but the doorman just open the door and let him in. Toots and I stop as Jamie disappears inside the club.

"Bastard," I say. "What a complete bastard." But then the doorman gesture to Toots and I.

"And you two," he says gruffly. "Come on."

Suddenly I feel bad for bad-mouthing Jamie. We are going clubbing. There are moans of disapproval from the waiting punters, who have probably been waiting hours to get in, but what can I do? Toots pulls me forward and we disappear inside the building.

It is swarming with people inside. Trance music is flowing from the speakers. Bodies collide in the press to get to the bar and the dance floor. A heaving mass of under dressed young people having the time of their lives. Suddenly I feel very hot. Dry ice is everywhere. It gets in my nostrils, in my throat. I feel sick again.

We see Jamie at a table with some other people. I don't recognise any of them. Toots and I make are way over and Jamie is smiling. He is in a completely different mood now. Gone was the anger. He seems happy and relaxed. Toots is probably wondering the same thing.

"What the fuck has happened to Jamie to make him so happy?"

He gestures to us to come over.

"Everyone," he announces proudly. "This is Toots and Alana."

We both say "Hi" to the crowd of smiling faces around the table and they return the greeting, some of them waving, all of them friendly and obviously close to Jamie. How come then they were strangers to Toots and I? We are his closest pals, thought we knew all his mates, but none of these we know. I'm beginning to wonder if we really know Jamie at all?

We make our way to a vacant space at the table and are introduced to all the occupants. A group of people like ourselves, young and out for a good time. Next to me at the table is a girl, a bit pretty and around my own age of twenty-two. She is the only one that appears sober. It is clear that she has been crying. I feel a bit awkward next to this girl and for as minute struggle to think of anything to say. Then I remember the vodka bottle and take it from my shoulder bag.

"Here," I say as a way of introduction. "Take a hit. You look like you need it." The girl looks up from the table and smiles for the first time.

"Thanks," she says in a voice that is almost a whisper. She takes the bottle, takes a good hit, passes it back to me.

"I'm Sarah," she says . "Alana," I reply. "Nice to meet you."

I take a mouthful of vodka and slide the bottle to my new friend.

"Keep it," I say. "You sure look like someone who's had a bad day." Sarah makes a little laugh and has another drink.

"I have, I have," she says, taking another hit of vodka.

A round of drinks appears at the table. Jamie is flashing the green about. Champagne. Six bottles, that I count. My glass is full and bubbling over. I drain the glass, pour another. Sarah does the same. She has become greedy for drink.

"So what's your story?" I ask Sarah as she drains her second glass. "Why the sad face?"

Sarah places the glass down and looks around the table.

"It's these ass holes," she explains. "Especially him." She gestures to a sleazy looking guy opposite us at the table. "Boyfriend trouble?" I enquire. Sarah gives a little snort.

"Ex- boyfriend. But he's been telling everyone that I'm a slut, which isn't true, but he's pissed that he's not my first". Then she lowers her voice to a conspiratory whisper.

"Although, I have fucked more than twenty guys".

With this, she giggles and gives a little laugh, then drains her third glass of bubbly and it's clearly going to her head. I feel a bit guilty. She's clearly not able to handle her drink, but she's only drinking now because I struck up the conversation, gave her the vodka, and she's got someone to talk to now.

"Men are assholes," I offer as a means of some comfort. Sarah laughs and squeezes my hand.

"You bet," she replies in a wobbly voice. She has drunk almost a bottle of champagne. It is clearly not agreeing with her.

"I don't feel good," she says. I take her hand.

"Follow me," I order her. We rise from the table and push our way past Jamie's mates. She stumbles a bit and knocks over a glass, spilling the contents onto the table. Her ex-boyfriend laughs nastily.

"She's a slut who can't hold her drink," he snorts, and some people around him laugh. Sarah looks over to him, clearly humiliated.

"Why don't you shut the fuck up, little dick," I snap. "Leave her alone. I don't blame her for not wanting to fuck an ape like you."

He rises angrily, smashed his glass to the floor.

"Why, you little bitch!" he growls.

But suddenly he is on the floor. Jamie has been watching all of this and does not like what he has seen. He is above the man, punching him savagely, then stamping on him in anger.

"Don't talk to my friends like that," he is screaming. "Get the fuck out you cunt!"

I take Sarah's hand and lead her to the toilets, safe in the knowledge that Jamie will ensure we get no more hassle from the ex-boyfriend.

The toilets are in a bad way. Paper on the floor, water spilling from a facet onto the tiles. The unmistakeable smell of piss. I find an empty cubicle and lead Sarah in. I lock the door and turn to face her. She has stopped crying but still carries an unmistakable look of sadness.

"You ok Sarah?" I ask her. She gives a little smile and sighs.

"I guess so," she replies. But I can tell she is not. She appears very stressed.

"He's some ass hole, you're ex," I say, trying to lighten the mood. She smiles again, and her eyes drop forlornly to the floor. And it is then when I realise how much I fancy her.

It was all in the falling sweep of her eyes! I was wrong to think she is plain. She is gorgeous. Tidy body, quite pretty really. Lovely firm tits. She laughs again, but I can tell she is holding back the tears. So I slide my arm around her and give her a friendly squeeze around the waist. She gives a little sigh, closes her eyes. Rests her head against my shoulder. Then she begins to cry.

"Thanks for looking out for me tonight," she says between sobs.

"No problem," I respond, pulling her closer. Then I rub her back with the tips of my fingers. Her shoulders loosen into a slump. Then she turns around, and I do what her eyes are telling me to do - I slide her top up.

The sight of her naked back excites me. But I shouldn't be doing this. I should be going home with Jamie and Toots. With my heart beating madly I pull her top back down and decide to leave. And I would have, had I not been within such close proximity to her warm narrow ass, so perfect and inviting. If she hadn't turned round with tears in her eyes and said what she said. If she hadn't asked me to stop.

"Please don't stop that. Please."

That's what she said. And her eyes, they were soaked with so many conflicting emotions - fear, guilt, yearning - all struggling to gain momentum, but the yearning burned hardest of all.

"Take me," her eyes were saying. "Take me."

So with gentle hands, I take her.

I ease her skirt up over her slim hips and pull down her panties. I cup an ass cheek in each palm, two tiny globes, and pull her apart gently. Her tiny fawn coloured hole nestling under a veil of brown down hits my eyes like a soft explosion - unblemished and soft, and too lovely to encroach. Even my tiny slim fingers. That would be wrong. That would be violation.

So instead I let my tongue press against the warm skin of her ass hole. I can smell the wetness beyond, ready to swallow me. Slowly I release my tongue in her and her crying subsides into an affirmative moan. I plunge deeper and feel her cunt lips. I tug on them softly, rubbing them between the tips of my fingers, making her dribble all over my hand and down her thighs. This feels good, and as my tongue snakes her cunt and laps her eager hole I abandon myself to the deprivation washing over me.

I suck hungrily on her flaps, burying the whole of my nose inside her, devouring her, smelling her, drinking her wetness, wanting to be as far up her as possible. She tastes of teenage fanny. Treacle- warm sticky treacle, unsullied by spunk and rubber. Lovely young fanny.

I slide my tongue back up and all over her tense little ass, dipping at her hole again. Her sphincter pulls like a whirlpool and there's a strain under my tongue as it reaches and stretches deep inside her. And now I begin easing my fingers in her cunt, one by one, until my hand is wearing her tight young fanny like a glove puppet. Never felt a fanny so tight before. Tight and wet. And she moves with my hand, rocking to and fro, swallowing my hand like it's the most natural thing in the world.

And this is what gets me. My cunt just flooding at the sight of her, this young whore, loving it, loving the whole thing, just letting me do whatever I want to her.

I think of all the men who have been inside her. I begin to fuck her really hard and soon she's shuddering and the whole of her insides are contracting and spasming around my hand.

She comes wildly, all over me and I jam my hand inside my saturated knickers. My clit is on fire, and a few stokes, Jesus, I'm going to come, I'm going to come with my whole hand inside this dirty girl who is letting me.

My orgasm is muted by the drink and I withdraw from her feeling cheated. I pull my skirt down and remember the camera in my bag. I need a picture of her cunt. Wet and spent. The flash goes off and the camera whirrs and dies. She looks round and buries her head in her palms and slumps to the floor.

No! She loved it! She did - she enjoyed it.

I made her come. She came. And now she's beating herself up over it with guilt, hatred, denial. But she did enjoy it.

I let myself out and catch a glimpse of my face which is flushed with regret and sex. I wash my hands that are soaked in fanny paste and go to the door. But I need to come again. I head out, locate the gents, and sneak in. I lock myself in a cubicle and yank my dress to my hips. I come quickly with the image of her young cunt emblazoned on my mind.