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  • The room rumbled constantly with conversation and as the pair of them eyed one another up Jonathan just so happened to mix his words, only this time he wasn’t doing it for comic effect. Although he still couldn’t remember exactly where he knew her from, know her he did; or at least he recognised her.

    “There are worse things you can do than kill a person accidently” was Anais’s reply to young slippery Jon’s “what’s the worst thing you can think to do right now?” – A damp squid of a question at best, delivered with text book inexperience and a stroke of the chin. Still, she seemed very innocent. About 5’5 [5’9 with heels] she radiated wealth, no bad bones or thoughts in there Jonathan told himself.

    “Like, it’s far more despicable to kill a person without even realising it for example?” he said.

    Sticking out his pigeon chest only semi consciously he was fascinated by the way Anais seemed to sway so musically, out of time with everyone else. Those tired sticky time warps; full of sickeningly inane chatter about partly fictitious weekends, what he she and he said, right? That’s what she means, those how much that cost, you’ll never guess whose or what? Oh My!’s and so forth. A whole host of rubber bullets designed to keep the brain busy whilst the junk hungry feeders slowly waste round after round on your fundamentals. Those hours and days wasted. The sort of riddle twaddle mature sperm spit, things that prepare you for reality shows and little more. That’s what she meant, surely.

    “I didn’t do it on purpose” she slurred, “It was a mistake”

    Not a muscle of her snow white complexion moved. She was a turn on, exotic and crystallised from a bygone era, Anais had class alright. What’s best is she knew how to use it. Mask the cracks in past twenty four kinked months. A feast for the eyes yet somehow unassumingly poisonous, infecting most and stinging the rest, she hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone else. Embarrassed, she ran back outside in to the blotted evening. A chase was futile. Stumped for ideas, Jonathan loosened his tie and wondered what on earth he was doing at the party any way. When he was nervous his shoulders would twitch intermittently. It was totally involuntary but made him look at feel like a complete goose when they see-sawed in such a way.

    Jonathan, twenty-three, was wise beyond his years but prone to bouts of immature giddiness. Socially awkward he’d rather laugh coyly than appease questions with answers. He had become so spellbound by the lives of others, those moments that might be passing him by; people he’d never know and situations his four limbs would never crawl through. Accordingly he had gone to extremes over the past two months. It began as a silly whim. With no office party of his own to attend at Christmas, he hired himself a three-piece suite, drank his body weight in Dutch courage and proceeded to fob himself off as a new intern over at the CJ Morgan bash. Inside enviable surroundings of the Park Lane Hilton he shook hands with movers and shakers and felt very, very important. Having shaved the bum fluff from his chin and slicked his hair back into a teddy boy quiff, he played the part very well. Since then he had made friends in high places, been whizzed around town in chauffeur driven sports cars, had his hair cut three times, each time smarter than the last; but most oddly, he had correspondingly developed an artificial stiff upper lip.

    Earlier this evening he had been down on the strand and about to enter the prestigious LL Lawrence annual ball. Parking himself in front of cold glass window he checked his hair and gave himself a short lived pep talk. Only, before he moved an inch closer to the door, this woman, bold and brash and wearing all colours of the rainbow leapt from the door. Grabbing Jonathan from the street she cackled with laugher, “Don’t bother baby, really” she said, “That place stinks”

    This lady snaked back down towards the river and twirled along the embankment. “Do you have a mask?” she asked.
    A little confused Jonathan simply shrugged, “That depends” he said.

    “Don’t worry darling, we’ll find you one”

    She stopped outside a tall building which seemed too grand for even the greatest pretender. The woman shouted up to the heavens, “Bobby! Bobby! Let me in”

    Jonathan imagined how the inner thighs of this woman might feel against his face; very nice, yes, very nice indeed. Bobby appeared at the door, “MWAH MWAH, OH darling! You look ra-a-vishing” he said, extending the A as long as humanly possible.

    “Come up, please” he continued, “And who is this little cutey you’ve brought along?”

    Jonathan laughed one his school-boy laughs and let his shoulders begin to twitch. Upstairs the front door opened up on to otherworldly fancies. Wild jazz spewed from the speakers and burlesque dancers can-caned down a spiral staircase. Jonathan took note of it all but was drawn to the bath tub in the middle of this strange brew. The bath tub was full of ice and bountiful bottles of champagne. As he looked around he saw a flow of both sexes stumble pass the dancers, hacking up half a lung the men smoked elephant leg cigars and the woman held masks in front of their faces. Approximately half of the people in there wore masks. Theatrical masks, masks which concealed covert identities and old virtue, all zombie lolloping towards a hot tub on the roof.

    Climbing out elegantly, the snow white lady wrapped herself in a towel, then scuttled off in to the corner underneath fake palms and fairy lights, she redressed. She wore a blood red 40's cut, sliced at the knee, strapless, somehow. Jonathan was in awe. He was hypnotised. Never before had he seen such a sight. Whoever she was, whatever she’d do in the future, Jonathan wanted to be part of it. Following her downstairs he heard the room rumbling constantly with conversation.
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