Neve
I was going to be absolutely blasted by the time this dinner party ended.
The Harrods were long time family friends of ours, but attending their annual end of year dinner party was more of an obligation than an invite. This was for two reasons; one being that Rob Harrods, the patriarch, was an insufferable asshole who abused his wife and kids, and two because my mum wanted to keep up appearances.
“Darling,” mum’s voice was a clipped whisper in my ear, “don’t drop ice cream on that dress.”
We sat together at the resplendent dinning table, the soft murmur of dessert conversation a balm against my mum’s fussing. I peeked down at my cream woollen dress and frowned, it was spotless. I pointedly stared back at her while taking another scoop of chocolate ice cream from my crystal glass.
Her nose scrunched up and with a huff, she turned back to the main conversation at the table. Rob and his wife Helen were holding court, speaking back and forth about new developments in the city. A new Danhurst movie studio, a new highway, more access to people meant more access to money. Mum tried to pitch in, to say something relevant or smart, but I could judge from the sideward glances and unsettled pauses between speaking, she was losing their favour.
I would’ve escaped into my ice cream glass if I could. God, it was divine, rich and velvety on my tongue.
“I’ve been trying to find you all night.” A girlish voice spoke, one I hadn’t heard in a long time. Without care, I clinked my spoon back into the glass and enveloped Ashley Harrods into a hug. I’d seen her seated with her brother Brody at the other end of the table, eating dinner as far away from their parents as possible. With the volume of guests, it’d been impossible for me to approach her sooner.
But now I could get out of my mother’s iron grasp.
“Where did you all disappear to?” I asked.
She led me out of the dinning room. “The game room. That’s the new kids table now.” Ashley grinned. Throughout our adolescence, her siblings and I often congregated together at family gatherings—which was what the adults wanted.
I expected her to take us to an adjacent room, when we passed through an open set of doors under the stairs. Shutting the doors behind us, it was much quieter in here, almost muffled. But as we descended, the basement opened up into a wide multipurpose space. Majority of it was still under renovation, as the left side wall was half painted black, the floor partially covered in old linen to protect it from the paint. Two stray arcade machine’s were occupied, and a bar to the right was stocked with alchohol in glass cupboards. But in the centre of the room, people were seated at a long table. Brody was clutching some bottles of beer before passing them around the table, when his eyes flicked to us his smile was infectious.
“You’ve shot up like a tree.” I laughed as he gave me a quick squeeze of a hug. I hadn’t seen him since we graduated high school.
“And you’re just a short ass, Miss Prim.” He said, gesturing for me to take a seat. “I’m guessing you don’t drink beer?”
“I’ve got it covered dude.” Ashley interjected, pouring some glasses of rosé at the glit bar.
Brody’s fingers clasped over my shoulder, his voice quite. “Also you should know, Dom is—”
In the span of time it took for Ashley to pass me a glass, a weight bumped into the table, and there was a clatter of bottles before I was sprayed in beer. I froze, reminded of how white my dress was. Shit.
There was a gasp. “Oh sorry!”
Standing on the opposite side of the table was my ex-best friend Cynthia, and the oldest of the Harrods siblings, Dominic. Dom was cut from a different cloth altogether; where Ashley and Brody were fair-haired and had an air of polite respectability, Dom was dark and radiated arrogance. He’d always been the black sheep of the family and had been estranged for the last six years now, as far as I knew. But why the hell was he here then? With Cynthia as a plus one?
I licked my lips and tasted beer, exchanging him a glance. Dom only seemed to be vaguely amused, a piercing shone in his dimpled cheek. No apology on his part then. I snatched a napkin from the middle of the table, addressing Cynthia with a tight smile. “It’s fine.”
Thankfully it wasn’t an egregious stain, just minor splatter, but still my mum would go apeshit later. I’d have to steal a jacket from Ashley to cover it up, and douse myself in perfume to mask the stench.
Once I’d padded myself off and settled, Brody had been driven to the other end of the table where a heated game of cards took place. Ashley on the other hand, was being hounded by two other friends at the bar, leaving me seated across from the most difficult people in the room alone.
Just when I thought my night was getting better.
I took a slow sip of rosé to steel my nerves. My attention was drawn as Cynthia shucked off her denim jacket, a low cut top reveled an intricate skull tattoo in the centre of her chest. They were matched in eccentricity; Dom’s entire neck was blacked out, lash-like strokes edged around his jaw and extended to his ears.
To avoid social suicide, I took the initiative since they wouldn’t.
“So when did you two meet?” I tried not to sneer. Dominic looked anything but pleasant at my friendly attempt. For years, I’d been nice to him but he wouldn’t reciprocate or engage. It was shitty, he knew how uncomfortable he’d make the room feel, almost as if he revelled in it. Leaving me to face the silence of being blatantly ignored. Fucking dick.
Cynthia on the other hand was beaming, ready to gush about herself. “Oh god, we met sometime last year? I was working at a club downtown when his crew played for the night.” Apparently Dominic could shred an electric guitar. Cynthia explained how she’d approached him backstage, said some quippy line about his music taste not being shit, and just like that he’d smiled at Cynthia and they’ed ended up drinking till closing. Fucked right on the bar.
I had no idea how to respond. “Wow. That’s amazing.” Of course she’d say that. When we were friends in highschool, she always gave me shit for listening to pop music. Like Nirvana and The Eagles were the reigning kings and all other genres had to bow down to them. I could appreciate them, but she made them so insufferable with her elitism. Our middle ground was The Cranberries.
I listened to Cynthia drone on and on about their life. Rock concerts and night races. All the while Dominic didn’t open his mouth. Glasses were piling up on the table, I think I was on my third rosé when it shifted to their sex life.
“You know my favourite part of his body? His collarbones, the way they stand out so well in his chest and broad shoulders. I’d never appreciated collar bones until him!”
God this was fucking unbearable, I started laughing. Thank god I was tipsy, otherwise I wouldn’t have sat through this for the night. I didn’t realise what I was saying next. “What about you, Dominic?”
There was a pointed silence before he spoke. “My favourite part?” He leaned back in his chair as if to get further away from me. “Can’t you guess?”
There was a nudge between my legs. I blanked, momentarily shocked until I realised what he was doing. Dominic had pried my legs apart under the table. The smug look on his face told me he had every intention of being demeaning.
Cynthia cooed at me, misinterpreting my dumbified expression. “I forget, you don’t really have any male friends do you?” Dominic’s boot was cutting into the soft flesh of my calf, inching higher. That was going to leave a mark. Cynthia was lovingly slinking her fingers up his scalp through his dark hair, making a show of how close they were. “What a tight leash your mom has you on! You don’t talk to boys enough.”
At the press of his boot to my underwear, I squirmed at the coolness. I took a steadying breath, staring down at the glass in my hands to conceal any involuntary reactions. This was what the prick wanted, to subjugate me in shamefulness. Of course.
“Her cunt is my favourite thing.” Dominic’s voice was lax, I could hear him lean on the table. Eyeing my downcast face with a spiteful glint in his eye, his voice turned patronising. “Does that word make you uncomfortable?”
Cynthia giggled. She liked having something over me—they both did. What a match made in heaven they were. “That’s not it…” I said. Ever since high school Cynthia was boy obsessed, she liked to think she was better than me because of it. I had nothing to prove, yet I was so fucking upset.
And Dominic, why was he so mean? In all the years I’d known him, I’d never done anything to spite him. I looked him dead in the eye, feigning to gain back my focus.
I kicked his foot away, forced his feet apart and shoved my loafer against his crotch. “Boys ain’t shit.”
There was a ceremonious coo from the rest of the table. It fell deaf on my ears because the expression on Dominic’s face was imminent horror. He’d never expected me to lash out at him. Serves you right asshole.
Cynthia shrugged and threw her hands in the air. “Geez, all right Neve.”
Of course she’d turn it back on me. They all would. It was an overreaction to them. None of the others were stuck with the most insufferable people at the table, I was. The anger was like a burning fire in my chest, all consuming. I sculled the rest of my rosé, collecting myself.
I smiled shyly. “Sorry, I just—I’m tired. The drink makes me say stupid things.” It made me say what I wanted to say.
I was too in my own head to notice when Dominic had discreetly moved his hand under the table. I gave him one last scuff with my shoe, only for him to grip my bare ankle. He wasn’t gentle about it, ripping off my loafer. I shot Dominic a glare, but quickly realised showing my irritation would mean he’d won—that they’d both won. There was no way I’d let them have it, so I resigned myself to walk from the table with only one shoe.
Before I could find refuge in an upstairs bathroom, I asked Ashley if I could borrow a jacket to cover my splattered dress. She said her bedroom was on the second level, the last door on the right, and I darted out of the game room before anyone could notice I was missing a shoe. Fortunately, they all seemed too drunk to care.
But Dominic had the audacity to smile at me leaving. Not when I’d tried to be personable and make conversation, not all the other times I’d been nice to him in childhood. He had to smile at my own expense. My mother had warned me against people like him, a good for nothing punk who’d divided his family and tarnished their namesake.
(Does she get a jacket before going to bathroom?)
Bare footed, I trudged up the staircase with my shoe clutched at my side. When I went to turn down the second floor hallway, there were two silhouettes strolling toward me.
It was Helen and my mother. Shit.
There was no way she could see me like this!
Instead of freezing on the spot, I made a bee line for the bathroom like I didn’t know where I was going, and locked the door.
Since the bathroom wasn’t far from the staircase, parts of their convocation drifted through the door.
The relief of being alone in a cold quiet bathroom made my heart swell. I could be myself. Except the longer I stood at the door, I realised Helen and my mum weren’t moving from the staircase. Their voices murmured excitably and I threw my head back in silent frustration. Ashley’s room was just down the hall!
I leaned over the sink to gaze at myself in the mirror. I’d thought the beer spray hadn’t been that bad, but under this light the stains on the cream sweater dress were starkly contrasted. Stains were washable, but my mother was going to kill me regardless for this ridiculous accident.
Although, accident wasn’t the right word. Dominic and Cynthia were too absorbed in fooling around with each other that they didn’t bother to check their surroundings, that I was two paces away, within spilling distance of the beer bottle left on their side of the table.
And Dominic…
I turned the faucet on, dipping my finger in the water and proceeded to try and soak out each stain. Dominic’s face kept coming to the front of my mind, taunting me with his words. Does that make you uncomfortable? I could tell the idea he had of me; an uptight, prudish, and inexperienced girl easy to rile up. Worst of all, I couldn’t escape the emotions he’d risen out of me. The outrage I’d stamped down on had now accumulated into something much darker and unexpected. Wanton desire. It made no sense. What was I supposed to do with these feelings?
Why did I hate Dominic and yet…
I pulled my dress up over my hips, the inside of my thighs were covered in scrape marks, standing out like red welts, leading to my blue underwear, muddled with a little bit dirt from the bottom of Dominic’s shoe.
It was saturated.
Oh, Dominic, you had such the wrong impression of me.
A dull ache spread throughout my core. It was tempting, seeing myself a mess, I considered masturbating to pass the time. No one would look for me in the bathroom.
Pushing my underwear to the side, I cupped my pussy, only giving light pressure. Fuck, the weight of his boot pushing into me was ridiculously hot. I needed to save this pent up energy for Zombi, I could hold out for him and send him something lewd.
Or I could just do it now.
Fuck Dominic for making me this horny and angry!
The dirt stain wasn’t exactly flattering for a photo, despite the shiver it sent through me, I peeled my underwear off. I’d not given going commando much thought, but seeing the fabric of my knitted dress hiked over the rise of my ass in the mirror, giddiness bubbled inside me. There was something about being fully exposed under clothing that felt absolutely sinful.
Squatting on the tiles, I angled the phone to capture myself from the mouth down, my knees drawn up to my chest, thighs pressed together only to show a glimpse of my pussy peeking through. I smiled as the timer went off, and quickly searched for Zombi’s messages in my twitter.
You smile like you’ve done something naughty.
I couldn’t contain my grin. I have, Zombi.