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“You cannot actually be serious?”
“Have you any idea how much money there is in kiss and tell?” she groaned. “Picture this. Centre-spread:Chelsea Rawlings spills all about her hot night with the England captain. April Redfern in hiding, devastated by betrayal. And then there would be cute little me, dressed in a Singers scarf and stockings and looking fucking awesome. Just think how muchthat’sgonna do for my modelling career.”
I stared at her, dumbfounded. “That’s your great career plan, is it? Fuck a footballer and sell him out for a kiss and tell story?”
She shrugged. “Only if he’s already married, I’d rather be a footballer’s wife than a kiss and tell girl.”
I sipped my champagne. “I’m bloody glad I’m not famous, not with people like you around. It must be a nightmare.”
“Stop being so bloody moral and help me find him, will you?”
My eyes scanned the booths. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for. Does he look like an ogre?”
“Fuck no. He’s fucking gorgeous.”
“That doesn’t really narrow it down.”
“Tall, dark... athletic...”
“…Twelve inch cock,” I giggled. “Probably one of my callers.”
She didn’t even pause. “He’s got tattoos on his chest, and shoulders. Top of his arm, too. Faces and stuff, like icons. Think his gran was Roman Catholic or some shit.”
“That’ll sure help me identify him, since everyone is fully clothed this evening.” A trio of blondes walked past in little more than belts with their pert little arse cheeks on show. “I take that back...”
She squealed in my ear, jumping up and down on the spot. “I see him!” she hissed. “Over by the DJ booth in the corner. He was looking right over here!” I tried to look but she yanked me by the elbow. “Jesus, don’t make it obvious.”
“What now, then?” I sighed. “Can we dance or something?”
“You think that will work?”
“No idea, I just want to dance,” I grinned. “Worst case scenario you’ll have to march on up to him, and sayHey, I’m Chelsea. Fancy a fuck so I can sell your story to the papers?How could he possibly refuse?”
“Icouldgo up to him.”
“I was joking.”
“What if someone else pulls him in the meantime?”
I grabbed her arm, determined to get my groove on. “Then you’ll just have to take Fernando instead, won’t you?”
“Redfern’s got until midnight to make a move,” she said. “After that I’m just gonna jump on him...”
Poor guy wouldn’t know what hit him.
***
Jason
Theo’s birthday crowd was dripping with hangers on. They spilled onto the dance floor, giving more attention to who was watching them than they did to the music. Hair flicks and pouts, and exaggerated wiggles. Fake. All fake.
But not Gemma.
She found her groove without a care for the crowd around her, shaking her juicy arse without a damn for how cool she looked, or who was dancing next to her. A whirling, smiling tornado of red curls, vivacious and contagious. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
Her blonde friend was pretty but couldn’t dance for shit. She swayed like a mannequin, eyes scanning the crowd as she shifted from side to side. I’d avoid her eyes as they hunted adoration, but they seemed to follow me. Me and any other guy who was anyone, most likely.
I sank into the Singers’ crowd, keeping a hand in the conversation without losing sight of my dirty girl. Theo was already well gone, a drunken mess by midnight, slurring and chanting and grabbing any tits within arm’s reach. Lads will be lads, and I was too old for this shit. Too old for this place.
