A Little Fun. Short Story.

This was a strange one to write, I tried to capture the feeling of a dumped woman, hope I did ok, but seeing as I’ve never been dumped, nor do I posses ovaries, there’s always that nagging worry that it isn’t very realistic. Ok, I know overall realism is a bit…iffy, but you know what I mean.

So, Friday, TGIF and all that, time to appease the weekend gods by getting drunk, then worship the porcelain god on Sunday. A ritual I (thankfully) haven’t taken part in yet. Enjoy the weekend and, once you have sworn off drink for life and settled in to eat pizza or some variation thereof, remember, my stories are here, 24/7 to cover you in a warm blanket of “at least my life isn’t as bad as theirs”
Anyway, on with the show!

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A Little Fun

Jeremy had dumped her. He had dumped her. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with him? Still, it was his loss, not hers. She was better off anyway. He was holding her back. She was hotter than him, funnier, guys were always flirting with her and she never cheated but he had the audacity to go off with some bitch? So what. She probably had herpes anyway and if not herpes than something. She looked like a skank, a diseased one at that. Well, now she was free. She no longer had to listen to his stupid ideas, didn’t need to pretend to care anymore. She no longer had to pick him up when he was drunk, like he would ever do that for her. She deserved better. There was only one thing to do, that was to go out, find some guy and get absolutely off her face with him. She’d feel better after a little harmless flirting, boost up her confidence. Jane wouldn’t admit it but it had shocked her and it came completely out of nowhere. They were happy together, or at least, she thought they were. Still. That was her past. She needed to look towards the future. Jane considered calling a girly night but really she didn’t want to have to deal with them now. They would mean well, but for now, she just needed to be with strangers. She could deal with it all tomorrow, but right now she didn’t want to think about it.

So, pushing it all away, she stepped into the shower. The hot water was soothing, it helped wash everything away and when she emerged, clean and smelling of lavender, she had completely forgotten what had happened earlier. She was a free agent. Jane was her own woman.

While getting dressed she wondered if it was a little strange, going out by herself, alone. She had never done it before. Always gone out in a group, it was more fun that way, safer too. She would need to decide where she was going too. She had two choices, conversation at a pub or music which drowned out everything, including the noise in her head. It wasn’t a difficult choice.
Looking at herself in the mirror Jane was impressed. You would never know she had been crying only a few hours before, she looked hot, even if she did say so herself. Her makeup blend was just the right tone of mysterious and sexy, her clothes were classy but sexy. Her boots were high and kinda slutty but what the hell. You only live once. If she found a guy she liked why the hell not? She was single, she could do whatever, whomever, she wanted.

Everything was going well until she stood outside the club, waiting to get in. she was sober, first time for everything really. Jane couldn’t remember the last time she went to a club sober. Normally she was tipsy if not drunk at this stage. Alcohol hadn’t given her the breezy confidence she normally had around clubs. Nor did she have her friends to talk to. Finally reaching the bouncers she handed in her ID, “How’s it going?” “Fine, you?” “Good.” He started to hand back her passport, as she took it she blurted “I’m meeting friends inside.” He stepped aside and let her pass, not even registering her last comment as he looked to the people behind her. They were drunk, but no more than anyone else, if anything they were quite well behaved. They hadn’t tried to talk to her, something which she was unsure about, part of her was pleased, another pissed off. Was she not good enough for them? Casting the thought away, it went easily, she was getting good at that today, she went to the bar and shouted her order to the barman, “Double vodka and coke.” Taking her drink she swirled it once, twice, then drank it quickly. Putting the glass she waited until the barman got back to her, then order another, then a third. The alcohol hit her stomach hard and she felt a bit queasy, but she wouldn’t throw up. She could feel it spreading through her system quickly, losing some sensation in her body, her lips were going numb, good, that meant she was nearing tipsy. As she walked away from the bar she briefly thought she was going to be absolutely hammered by the time she walked the ten feet to the dance floor, then found she didn’t really care.

She lost herself to the music, occasionally stopping to get a drink to keep her buzz going, Jane whirled around the dance floor, dancing with an unknown number of guys, the night was going perfectly, just as she wanted. She could clear her head now, get a bit of a boost, then tomorrow call her friends and they could come over. She might cry but at the moment it seemed like the unlikeliest thing in the world. She was amazing, she was on fire.

It was getting close to last orders when she met him, he walked into her, spilling a few drops of his drink on her. He was obviously drunk, but immediately apologetic, his face flushed with both embarrassment and alcohol, picking up a tissue from the bar he tried to wipe away the few drops, she stopped his hand and smiled, assuring him over the din that it was ok and did he want another drink? There was an instant connection and, out in the smoking area, they found that they were amazingly in sync, though it was most likely the alcohol causing both to feel that way. Jane had been known to throw her arms around strangers while waiting for food, screaming that they were best friends forever over some trivial detail they shared. Still, this felt good and he was cute, had she been sober she may have noticed how similar to Jeremy he looked, maybe thought of him as a rebound, but right now she didn’t care. They spent the rest of the night alternating between dancing and kissing until the lights were raised and the final song was played. They stumbled from the club, clinging to each other like life preservers and she hailed a taxi, the question, do you want to come back to mine? Answered but never asked.

Anthony woke the next morning, vaguely hung over but not too bad for how much he had drank, his head was a little fuzzy, as was his tongue. He needed a drink, any kind would do. He went to move his arm and found it tied down. As he moved Anthony realised he was tied, spread eagle, to a bed. And, after a few moments he remembered whose. Jane or at least, he thought she was called Jane. But the room was empty, she was no where to be found. He wondered if there was anyone else in the house, she was young early twenties, maybe she still lived at home. He didn’t want some angry brother or dad coming in. Soon his need to urinate overruled his worry and he was calling out her name.

Jane was in the kitchen making coffee for herself when she heard Anthony calling her name. She wasn’t hung over at all, she had been lucky so far in life, hangovers were few and far between, her only problem right now was that she was tired, but that would be soon remedied. She was pleased he was awake, she would probably have to bring him some kind of bedpan, rehydrate him as well, she wouldn’t start till tonight, maybe tomorrow. That bastard Jeremy needed to pay for what he had done to her. She would make him pay.

Before it was finally, mercifully over, dear god would she make him pay.

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About Alan James Keogh

I am a 24 year old writer who somehow tricked U.C.D. into giving me not only a degree in English and Classical studies, but an Hons Masters in Creative Writing too. Visit my blog where I post short stories twice a week (Monday and Wednesday) and an installment of a serialised novel on Fridays. I did consider writing this in the third person, as though it was written by someone else, but Alan is not comfortable writing in the third person as it seems kinda creepy and unbalanced so Alan decided it was probably best to write in the first person. He hopes it went well for him.
This entry was posted in Horror, Short Stories, Suspense, Thriller. Bookmark the permalink.

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