Fully English

CHAPTER 13

We're in the club, my hips gyrating to the sound of Nelly's Country Grammar as I sip the cocktail one of the club-goers insisted on buying me. I've been dancing but no-one has had the courage to get close yet. Probably because Damon's gawking is serving as the greatest deterrence. Being the only black two people in the club, I know everyone assumes we are either a couple or related, which means I am off limits by both interpretations.

Considering the amount of alcohol in my system, the lack of company doesn't faze me too greatly and I am still confidently moving to the beat when I feel a hand on my waist.

The body behind me moves in perfect synchronisation with my body rolls and I see the space around us clear as the beat to Turn Me On by Kevin Lyttle drops. Our moves grow suggestive as we build chemistry, every thrust and drop being caught by the firm hands of my dance partner.

I feel moist lips trail down my neck when the song switches to Usher's pre-2000s catalogue of love songs. Hot breath steams my ear and suddenly my hoop earring is being caressed.

"Big G," I recognise his touch and turn around to his sparkling eyes.

His lips immediately find mine and we make out right in the middle of the dancefloor. Surprise makes me stumble back but his grip on the small of my back steadies me and our bodies are pressed together. I feel his hand ease inside my jeans as we slow our movements.

We don't lose eye or body contact as the song progresses and I abandon all inhibition. I let him put his tongue in my mouth, his fingers through my hair, teeth on my ear, hand on my bum, his crotch on my crotch. Every orifice of mine is consumed by him absolutely and we move to a dim corner of the club for more privacy.

I know he wants sex.

"I'm going to the loo."

"Don't disappear," he breathes down my neck. I can tell by his stiffness that he is being serious.

I kiss him in assurance. "I won't."

I stalk past the gyrating club-goers to freshen up in the toilets. It's not as dingy as most but I don't risk it and decide to stick to reapplying makeup. Girls filter in and out as I'm adding mascara, relining my lips and re-adding colour to the body of my lips. I admire my hair just as the door swings open and I see the girl that Otis had in his room a few nights ago. I can tell by her stumbling feet that she is completely shit-faced but that doesn't stop her from finishing a shot at the sink before rushing into the toilet stall and puking her guts out.

The stench of her stomach contents is immediately apparent and I exit quickly to ensure it doesn't stick to my clothes.

A tall slender form blocks my entry back to the dancefloor and I look up to see Damon's face.

"Oh shit."

"Forgot I was here?"

I inhale deeply and look down. "I've got a ride."

"Yours or his?"

I raise my guard. "Does it matter?"

"Are you forgetting what we discussed in the car?"

I remember. Even through the haze of alcohol-fuelled forgetfulness and building hunger for sex I clearly remembered our conversation. There was no way I could forget.

"You're such a cock-block you know that?"

Damon merely smirks and takes me by the elbow to lead me to the back exit of the club where the smokers linger. We travel the perimeter of the club to the area where his car is parked and I join him in the front passenger seat.