When he returns half an hour later, his hair is ruffled, his shirt totally undone and his tie nowhere to be seen. The blonde has also disappeared, thankfully. For the past half hour I have been dancing with a cute blonde guy called Derren, but as soon as Harley enters the room I make an excuse to get away from him, heading for the drinks table, where Harley is standing. I am pouring myself a vodka and orange-juice cocktail when I feel a hand go around my shoulders. I jump violently, spilling the orange.
"Hey, hey, calm it, gorgeous. It's only me. The guy of your dreams." Harley says, with a cocky smile. I down my drink in one.
"Wanna dance?" I ask, eyeing his six pack through the gap in his shirt.
"Sure." He grins, pulling off his shirt and chucking it onto the floor. We dance, our bodies getting closer and closer, until he plants a drunken kiss on my jaw. "Oops.." He giggles, and takes my face in his hand, kissing me on the mouth. My arms slide themselves around his neck, and we dance closer than ever. It is getting really late, about two-ish, and people are trickling out. "Feel like continuing the fun back at mine?"
I slide my hand down to the waist band of his jeans, down over his butt, and close my fingers around his thigh. "Do I?" I grin, and he scoops me up. He finds his shirt crumpled on the floor, and then we leave. I drift in and out of conciousness on the way to his place, but once we are there, he gives me an espresso, and I perk right up again.
We dance around his flat, kissing, until we reach the sofa. He flops onto it, and I climb into his lap, my legs around his waist, my arms on his neck. His hand reaches up, undoes my dress. He pulls it off over my head in a way that a sober me would have thought was way too practised.
But I am far from sober, so I let him, kissing him harder and harder..