ONE
Reilly
“Stop shifting them about, your boobs look fine!” Sarah chastises me.
“It’s thisdress, I feel like I’m about to burst out of it.” I glance over Sarah’s head to check myself out in the bathroom mirror and let out a sign. Borrowing the completely anti-Reilly bodycon dress from Thea seemed like a good idea two hours ago. I was hoping the deep maroon might give me a boost of confidence and I could be someone a little more “put together” for the night. It’s not quite having the desired effect as it not only pushes my boobs up to my chin, but I’m pretty sure it’s rearranged my organs. Sarah shifts the dress down and somehow, by pulling and pushing, she gets my boobs to sit perfectly in the centre.
“Remind me,” I say, “why wasn’t I allowed to use the tit tape?” Or wear jeans and Converse? Although, I wouldn’t dare ask her that. I’ve already been told to cheer up tonight. I’m not hiding my disappointment well, and I’ve kept the reason for my mood close to my chest. My day started with another failed meeting at the bank, where Iwas denied a business loan, again. The rejection stings the third time so much worse than the first. My friends will supply the right level of sympathy and encouragement, but right now I want to wallow.
“When the hot guy you’re going to hook up with tonight peels this dress off you, you donotwant him to find you taped up like a badly wrapped birthday present.” She has a point, and Sarah is the one to listen to in regard to all things of a sexual nature.
“Remind me, why am I hooking up with a stranger?” I ask, still shifting my dress about, trying to get comfortable. Sarah bats my hands away so I don’t ruin her fine work.
“Because you haven’t been laid since you ended it with Twatface Timathy, and you don’t have time to date. So when you need a little release, which you do, your best option is to have hot sex with a stranger.” She holds my face between her hands for a special Sarah pep talk. “Women like sex too! You are strong, sexy and capable. You. Want. To. Be. Fucked.” She smooshes my cheeks on the wordfucked, to really drive the point home.
“It’s Tim, not Timathy,” I mumble, not willing to get into it again. She knows, but gave my ex the nickname as she thought it suited him as a pompous twatface. Tim was a twatface; and lived in a delusional reality in which he thought we were compatible. He was charming and good looking, which should have been my first clue. He relentlessly pursued me and – because of my desire for validation – I allowed it. It took me a year to realise I was his little charity project. He thought he would scoop up poor clanky Reilly and turn her into his trophy girlfriend. But no amount of designer clothes or nights out in fancy restaurants could turn me into something I’m not. I am who I am, and that’s good enough for me. It took me too long to realise that.
I blow the curls out my face, discreetly pulling the dress up and eye Thea in the mirror. She’s busy fixing a random girl’s make-up, the poor thing is barely old enough to be here. She’s just trying to have a night out with her friends, have drinks, maybe kiss someone in a dark corner. Now she’s being accosted by a posh woman in her early thirties doling out unsolicited life advice. Between teaching her how to highlight her cheekbones and where to invest her pension fund, that young woman is coming away tonight a little more clued up on how to be an independent woman in today’s society. Something I don’t think any of us really have the hang of.
“Are you done fixing people, Thea? We’ve got champagne to drink.” I desperately try to rally her. The sooner we get back out there, the sooner I can go home. I’m done with the champagne though. The bubbles have gone straight to my head.
It’s Thea’s birthday, and she and Sarah have dragged me out with them. I hate clubs, the air is suffocating and the atmosphere is sticky. Don’t get me wrong, this place is nicer than most but it’s not my scene. I’d rather be at home, curled on the sofa with my dog. But nope, I’m here; tits up and out, and on the prowl. The things we do for friends.
As we leave the bathroom we are waved over by Thea’s date, Barnaby.
“Great, he’s still here.” Sarah rolls her eyes.
“Be nice, babe. This one might last past the third date,” I whisper out of Thea’s earshot. I try to balance out Sarah’s fierce protectiveness, but it’s not easy when this guy comes across as a downright fool.
“We’ll see.” Sarah purses her lips and narrows her eyes in the direction of said fool. Even if I couldn’t hear her words, I would still be able to feel her distaste from the daggers she’s shooting the group of guys.
Giving me a peck on the cheek, she manages one last glare at Barnaby before she slinks off to find someone to play withfor the evening, leaving me and Thea with the ‘team’ as Barnaby had referred to himself and his friends earlier. They’ve bought another bottle of champagne, and one of them sidles up next to me, placing a glass in my hand.
“No thank you. I’m on the water now.” I give him a polite smile. He ignores this and thrusts the glass into my hand. I set it down and grab my bottle of water, holding it up to accentuate my point.
“Come on, love. Lighten up.” He removes the water and shoves the glass back into my hand.Rude.
Not wanting to make a fuss, I reluctantly take the glass. I’ll nurse it slowly, make myself small until he gets bored and moves on. He smirks at me, making me shiver. He’s got “creepy city wanker” written all over him: slicked-back hair and a three-piece suit. The white powder residue on his nose doesn’t help the image, along with the classic coke twitch – and he’s getting a little too close for my liking.
“You live near here?” he slurs into my ear, his hot breath making my insides cringe.
“No, I don’t. Excuse me.” I’m not naive enough to give this man any information about myself. I pop down my glass, grab my water and go to walk away. Before I can make it a comfortable distance, he grabs my upper arm.
“Woah there, little lady, we haven’t finished our drinks yet. Maybe we could go take a little walk out to the terrace.” SkyLounge bar is at the top of Waterview Hotel. It has a huge terrace overlooking Bournemouth Beach. The view is stunning, and he is the last person I would want to enjoy it with.
I try to pull my arm away but his grip tightens, and I grit my teeth at his audacity. “Back off.” I make my voice strong and firm. I lean towards him, trying to meet his height. Like how you’re supposed to react when you meet a bear in the woods and you have to be big and loud to scare it off. Not that I wouldknow … not too many bears here in Dorset. Plenty of aggressive men though.
Despite my display of confidence, I don’t feel big and loud; I am completely out of my depth. But luckily he can’t see that, he only sees the rage on my face. As he looks over my shoulder, his eyes widen as he sees my two girls who I can now feel behind me. I imagine their faces are both filled with fire as well.
He steps back and holds his hands up in retreat. “No harm. I’ll back off.”
All the breath leaves my body. That could have gone a different way, as it has for so many before. I turn to plead with the girls to leave, but I’m met instead with the face of a man so beautiful it’s disorientating.
So it wasn’t the combined action of feminine power that chased off Mr Snowy Nose. It was the fear which could only be instilled by another man.
Fuck it, I’ll take that.
“Are you okay?” he rasps. His eyes appear dark, with frown lines I want to reach up and sooth, as he tracks the other man across the room.
