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“But I’ve seen you looking... I know when a man wants me...”
People were staring, I could feel them.Redfern’s pulled, get in, mate. Look at the tits on that one.
“You’d better get back to your friend.”
“She doesn’t care, too busy dancing. She didn’t want to come here anyway.”
Gemma twirled with her arms in the air, curls glowing in the spotlights, and Powell shrugged off the brunette, making his way closer. I lost my train of thought, toppled from concentration enough to miss the lunge Blondie made for me. She pinned me to the DJ Booth, her hard little tits pressed to my chest as she wrapped her arms around my neck. Her mouth mashed against mine, her tongue darting across my lips. I took hold of her shoulders and pushed her away, staring into big blue eyes and fake lashes. Her expression shrivelled into embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “But no.”
“But you wanted me... I saw you looking... You’ve been staring all night.”
“It wasn’t intentional.”
Her lip trembled in cartoon grief. “Please...” she hissed. “Please, Jason... I won’t tell anyone.”
“Goodnight,” I said. I pushed past her, back into the crowd, back in time to see Powell make contact, sliding up to Gemma to wrap his arms around her hips, bucking against her like a horny fucking stallion. My throat dried, and I could feel the pulse in my temples as she turned to face him, still dancing, putting her mouth to his ear as he angled in for more.
I dithered, on the verge of dashing onto that dance floor without a care for who the fuck saw me. But how could I? Gemma didn’t even know who I was. Maybe she even wanted him. Wanted his cock up her sore snatch in the club toilets. Maybe she’d hand over her knickers gladly, ride him as the whole fucking club watched.
Fuck.
I took a step forwards onto the edge of the floor, but someone was ahead of me. Gemma’s blonde friend was dashing across the dance floor to snatch Gemma by the arm, out of the reach of Powell and then onwards, until they were out of sight.
Thank fuck for that.
***
Gemma
Chelsea’s grip was like a vice, dragging me through the crowd like a madwoman. She rushed us into the toilets, darting into an empty cubicle and bolting the door behind us. She plopped herself down on the seat and stared up at me with watery eyes.
“Whoa, what the hell happened?”
She took jagged breaths, her voice squeaky. “I tried to kiss him. Ididkiss him.” She covered her face with her hands. “I kissed Jason Redfern, in front of everyone. Oh my God, Gemma, he didn’t want me. He pushed me away! Jason Redfern pushed me away!”
I crouched in front of her, put a hand on her elbow. “Hey, it’s alright. Don’t cry. It’s his loss.”
“No, it isn’t! It’s my loss!”
“He’s just one guy, Chelsea. It doesn’t matter.”
“You don’t understand!” she said. “He’s Jason Redfern!” Her eyes widened. “I’m too ugly for him, aren’t I? The other girls are prettier than me! I’ll never be a footballer’s wife. It’s my nose, isn’t it? And my tits, they’re not big enough. And I’m ugly!”
“Of course you aren’t ugly,” I said. “You’re gorgeous. Look at you.”
“I could’ve died, Gemma. I can never go out there again. Ever. I’m so embarrassed.”
I took her hands and gave them a squeeze. “Let’s go dance. It’ll be ok. Chin up.”
“I’m not dancing! Not now!” she cried. “My life is over. Everyone is laughing at me.”
“That’s ridiculous, and even if they are, who gives a shit?”
“Igive a shit!” Tears spilled and dragged mascara with them. I grabbed her some toilet roll but all it did was smear. “I want him, Gemma. I really, really want him. He’s everything!”
“You’re really drunk, and there will be loads of other nights, other footballers,” I smiled. “There’ll be plenty of them falling over themselves to take you home.”
