The following story you are about to read is real.
The names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved.
I wake up late. I get dressed into my best friend's clothes while she is still sleeping and make us both a cup of tea. We are settled into the warmth as we drink and relax, no longer cold.
All of us are awake now and chatting quietly in her room. We talk about today and when we will start drinking alcohol. It is about 12:30pm and we decide to make 'breakfast' before we drink as all of us woke late.
I organise ingredients from the recipe to make French Toast with L's girlfriend N who cooks.
Half an hour comes and goes. Impatient, we start drinking at 1pm instead of 3pm. L pours us all a cup of orange juice and fills it with two shots of vodka. I drink it quickly, for the taste and unthinking that it will bring. A euphoric state. I discard my cup after I finish the juice and grab a shot glass, filling it with vodka and then pour another one after that. L fills up my cup again with more orange juice and two shots. That goes down quickly too.
Amongst the pouring of shots and the bitterness of the alcohol, I discover that I have downed eight shots. The food is ready and served to us. But it is too late to help me - I am already drunk. The food does nothing. The dizziness that accompanies me stays for the rest of the night. I forget how I get from the kitchen to my best friend T's room and how I stop myself from throwing up. I somehow get into the lounge room and stretch on the couch, falling off it again and again.
The afternoon disappears quickly.
We all play Truth or Dare to have fun while still intoxicated. I peel my clothes off, and lay in my underwear in L's bed, smothered with blankets to hold in the warmth. I make out multiple times with my best friend T as her boyfriend J hungrily watches us, enjoying the sight.
We make impromptu plans to go swimming, but they fall through. The centre is closed. So instead, I decide to have a shower and my best friend T joins me. Somewhere between the lack of clothing, the heat and the alcohol in our bloodstream, we make out in the shower. We spend too long standing together under it, the water streaming over our bodies and the kissing is wet, hungry and passionate. We wrap our bodies in towels once the water is too cold to bear and make our way to her room to dress. She lays on her bed watching me as I dry my body. I hook my legs through the holes of my underwear and pull them on. I impulsively think 'what the hell', appreciating her body - the way she displays herself to me is almost an invitation. We make out again and again. We stop interrupted by a shout from her brothers bedroom. We join them and forget what we did.
We continue to play Truth or Dare and not long after we turn the lights off. The bright lights are too much for our alcohol-impaired eyes.
L joins us in the bedroom as his girlfriend N makes dinner in the kitchen. I call out names, with their dares & truths.
Amongst the answers of others, L touches me. He touches me all over and it is hot. I fight the urge to moan and squirm, his glare heavy on me as his hands make their way over my body. It is all too much, the urge is almost agony. It is like holding your breath too long wanting air. I want to scream, I want to have his mouth on mine. I want his body pressed against me. It is carnal, the fire he feeds within me. The flames lick and curl in my belly ready to be unleashed, wanting. Wanting all of him, on me. In me.
Then, all of a sudden dinner is ready.
We eat and not long after everyone is soon finished. My best friend T stays in the lounge room with her boyfriend J and I make my way back to L's room with hope and longing in the back of my mind that something will happen again. It is so naughty and no one has any clue. The guilt and inhibitions that would pull me back from doing this are hazy and buried deep in my vodka-clouded mind. I don't have a care in the world. I am aware of what I'm thinking but my thoughts are too slow to catch up, I am running on impulse decisions in this very moment. I know what I want. And I shouldn't want it, but I do. I am helpless to the lust that suffocates me.
His girlfriend N exits the room to shower and it starts. His touches turn to kisses. Oh... my. Before I know it our pants are off and we are making love. He calls me baby over and over, moaning in my ear. It's perfect. I have wanted him for so long and it feels so right, our sparked love-making on his messy sheets. We become entangled with them as our bodies are with each other. His lips are pressed heavily against mine and the heat engulfs us, the warmth of the other mixed. The lyrics to one of Leanne Rimes' famous songs 'The Right Kind of Wrong' swim in my head momentarily as I think about us and what we are doing, how deep down it is so wrong, but no one will ever know other than us. I tell myself to not care. We compose ourselves before his girlfriend returns and we agree to not say a word to anyone else.
"It's our little secret."