You know I hate going to the bar. I think that’s why you made me. It’s a wolf pack of desperate punters, 4 people deep, all needing a drink. I can’t lie, I’m definitely one of them. Meeting you has made my mouth dry. Made me need that Dutch courage. Having a few minutes to collect myself is no bad thing.
I’m getting closer to the bar now, in the midst of the throng of people also needing their drink of choice to help move them to oblivion. I’m getting jostled in the scrum and I feel someone pressing up against me. As I start to turn around to unleash hell on the rude fuck who has dared to touch me, I hear you whisper in my ear ‘Emma. It’s ok, it’s me’.
My body relaxes into you. I didn’t even realise I was that tense. ‘I was about to slap you!’
I feel your hand rest on my hip and it’s like a mini electric shock through my body. I quietly gasp and am annoyed at myself! ‘Get your shit together. FFS. You’re a grown woman.’ We chit chat for a couple of minutes. The music and noise are loud around us so we have to move in closer. I feel your hot breath on my neck and I get goosebumps.