Not the Usual Boring Party

She kept looking at me and then looking away as soon as I noticed. I’m not the kind of guy to go up and talk to her, try to be charming, and hope that she’s had enough drinks to fuck me in my car. She had to sense that, because once I locked in on her I tried to imagine my eyes as lasers, branding my initials on the back of her neck. Could she feel it, I wondered, when she fanned herself with her hand and sipped her drink?

Normally I wouldn’t have stayed more than a half hour at that stupid party, faking my way through one erection killing conversation after another. “Yes, Trump is awful.” “No, I don’t think the Jets have a chance in hell.” “Oh, your vacation in the Keys sounds lovely.”

To an observer it might seem random, the way we floated about the room. I moved by the window to talk to some Goldman Sachs douche bag and she moved away from me and inserted herself in a conversation with two girls looking at their phones and comparing selfies. I moved closer to refill my drink and she excused herself to use the bathroom. When she returned I was standing by the hallway looking at the bookshelf pretending to care whatever failed lit major had put the library together.

For a moment she brushed by me, and I felt a hesitation in her. It was as if my gravity had pulled her into my orbit and changed her directory. She walked towards the window but before she could get there the Goldman Sachs douche bag zeroed in on her. She gave me a glance over her shoulder as if to say, “Fuck! Save me.”

I smiled and shrugged before leaving the party and heading into the kitchen for no reason in particular. Only a few minutes passed before she found me there. “Oh, hi,” she said, as if I was some kind of discovery, like a lady bug on her arm.

“Don’t do that.” I answered. “You’re better than that.”

“Better than what?”

I moved closer and she took a step away, her back hitting the kitchen counter. Brushing her hair back off her face, I answered, “You’re better than having to pretend.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but my fingers slid down her neck, along her shoulder, and no words came out. Continuing down along her chest and down her hips, I picked her up with both hands, and sat her down on the counter.

“I think if I had to have one more conversation with someone I would have killed them. I have been waiting to get you alone for the last hour,” I said, massaging my hand up her thigh. “That’s the fucking problem with this boring parties. It’s the same ten conversations played on loop, one after another. And no one gives a fuck. No one really wants to hear you or see you.” I pushed her skirt up her legs. “But I saw you. The moment you walked in, I knew you felt the same way, too. It was as if I could hear you screaming, please God, let something interesting happen tonight. Don’t let this be another boring night ending with some investment banker or struggling writer trying to add me as the next notch on his belt.”

My eyes held her completely still. Each word that left my mouth made its way into her brain, one syllable at a time. By now my hand was buried under her skirt and I could feel how wet her panties were. “I could fuck you right here and you wouldn’t stop me, I know. I can feel how bad you want it. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that if I pulled my cock out right now and forced it in your cunt that you would do one thing to make me stop.”
She said nothing.

I pushed her panties to the side and parted her lips with my finger. “I’m not going to fuck you here, or at all.” I eased the tip of my finger inside her. “You can go out on any night in this town and get fucked by any number of people.” I pushed deeper up to the first knuckle. “And then what? What would we have to look forward to. What reason would we have to keep coming back to these God-awful parties?” She let out a moan as I pushed up to the second knuckle. Garbing the back of my neck she tried to pull me in to kiss her but I wouldn’t budge closer. I just kept burrowing deeper into her cunt. “No, if I’m going to keep coming to these things then at least now I have a reason. Next time I see you at one of these parties we won’t talk. We won’t say a word to one another. We’ll just float around the room and I’ll always be the guy who stuck is finger inside you and walked away. Maybe next time we meet I will give you more. Or maybe this will just be the perfect end to a perfect relationship.”