The Incident

man wearing teal dress shirt

Photo by Arvind shakya on

The rain has stopped, leaving a string of puddles, in which are reflected lights from the multitude of bars and clubs lining the street. This mosaic of colours seems to pulse with the sounds that are blaring out from the competing establishments.

As I approach the club, I sees a line has formed behind the rope that snakes along the pavement leading to the entrance. Despite the cold, the groups of girls are scantily clad – they must be eager. A good night beckons. I nod to the big doorman who’s vetting the would-be clientele; I know him well and slip him a tenner as I’m waved through.

The music is deafening, pulsing through my body, as I head down the stairs. I turn the corner and, from the platform, can see across the entire basement that forms the club. The dance floor is heaving in time with the beat and the bar crowded. Friends wave to me from the raised VIP section. I go across for hugs from the fellas and coy smiles from the girls (as yet unknown but clearly aching for closeness & more).

The waitress, in a dress that’s barely there, with just a thong to hide what was once called modesty, brings me a pint. I down half in the initial, deep swallow, it’s been one of those days. Girls are introduced and soon the guys have ordered again and the waitress is ferrying shots and beer. She hasn’t quite mastered the Bunny dip and I see her modesty shows once more. There’s some kind of competition with the shots, lots of them. And pills, they’re always good for a night out (had one before I left the office). The sound crashes on, precludes conversation but the blond on my right has drawn closer and slipped her arm through mine. I feel her lips brushing my ear, words are being whispered, her breast feels firm against my shoulder. I can see her softly rounded thighs. My hand finds a home, warm and welcoming.

She rises and leads me to the dance floor. We dance and I watch her lithe body as she gyrates, her blond hair splaying out, her eyes burning into mine when they meet. The music slows and she melts into my arms, her body pressing into mine; I become aroused & she pushes her body closer still, her hips pressing eagerly. I feel her lips against my ear once more, sense her words, realise the opportunity.

We leave the club together, scramble into the cab. We go off into the night & together we stimulate further the desires that are soon to be sated. We leave the cab and enter an old apartment block and are in her flat, kissing, pulling at each other’s clothes. She leads me into her bedroom. We fall onto the bed, are quickly naked, limbs intertwined. I know what she wants. And, oh yes, she certainly gets it! She seems to like it rough.

I see her spread-eagled across the bed, I can see blood everywhere. I’m confused; she wanted me. Jesus! It’s all gone wrong. It’s not my fault! I must get out, get away!

I run out of the flat, down the stairs & I’m back into the enveloping night.


‘Hi Mandy, how’re doin?’

‘It’s Sukie, yer daft kipper!’


‘Didn’t see yer, last night! Where were you?’

‘Ah, sorry to hear that. Feeling a bit better, now?’

‘Good. Yeah, all the rest of the girls were there.’

‘No, it’s really great that club, we should have tried it before’

‘Crammed to the rafters!’

‘Yeah, met these fellas, very cool!’

‘Loaded! Never had to get me card out all evening! Straight into the VIP section too!’

‘Vodka shots, God only knows how many!’

‘Yeah, lots being passed around. I never touch ‘em though. Learnt me lesson a long time ago. Never know what’s innem, like!’

‘Well, yeah, you ever know me not to pull?’

‘Big fella, banker I think.’

‘Back to my place.’

‘Well, he was a bit of a stud!’

‘No! Not telling you!’

‘It was more than that!’

‘Well, I said he was a bit of a stud!’

‘And, then, guess what, the bloody idiot gets up in the middle of the night, trips over the sheepskin rug I have next to the bed, bashes his head on the dressing table, blood everywhere!’


‘I think those pills and all that vodka had kicked in to be honest. He wouldn’t let me do anything to help so, sod it, I went back to bed, worn out like!’

‘Don’t be cheeky, you know how it is! And then he rushes off shouting something about it not being his fault. Not even a by your leave.’

‘No, he hasn’t got in touch. Bloody fellas, all the same. I’m still trying to clean the mess up!’

Author: Tony

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