3. Liquid Mercury

Katie

The Old Library was exactly what it said on the tin, an old library that had been housed in a grandiose building, a remnant of Bristol's shameful past at the centre of the slave trade. The books had long since moved on, and the place was now a multi-use cultural centre that held different events, but it was a great place to throw a party. There were several different floors that could house different music and chill out spaces, and whoever had done the décor for this night had done a fantastic job. As I felt the ever-present bass vibrating through my bones, it reminded me of when we were younger, when we would party in churches, warehouses, railway tunnels, anywhere we could find really. And even though I had grown used to the flashy high-end parties of the fashion scene, my heart had never really left the grimy playgrounds of my youth. I was wildly overdressed, of course, not that I hadn't been back in the day, but now my designer copies had been replaced by the real thing. Most of the girls here were arty types, and much more casually dressed so I stood out as an oddity in their midst. But I didn't care, I had always loved being the centre of attention, and I'd been drawing admiring looks from quite a few of the boys. I was keeping my distance for now. Not that I wasn't up for getting laid tonight, but better to keep them hungry until I'd compared the talent and decided which one of them was going to be lucky enough to get a piece of Fitch for the night.

I wandered through the building, soaking up the sounds and occasionally bumping into old friends and acquaintances with whom to pass a moment of time. For the first time in ages I actually thought it was nice to be back. Someone had sorted me out with a pill, and I was enjoying the heightened sensation and the fluffy feeling of goodwill towards the rest of the world. I didn't stay still for long, prowling restlessly throughout the different levels and taking in all the sights and sounds as the drug worked its magic in my blood. I wandered onto the top floor and felt the heat from the dancing bodies hit me as soon as I opened the door. The music had some kind of Latin vibe mixed into the beats, and it caught my attention. For some reason (probably the drugs, but who cares) it felt deliciously sexy, and I decided it was time to stay and dance for a while. I edged forward to the periphery of the molten crowd, and swayed lightly for a few minutes, working myself up to plunging in and getting lost in their fluid embrace.

I locked eyes with a sweet looking blonde haired guy, wearing a tight T-shirt and baggy jeans. I gave him a quick once over, and he twirled obligingly to give me a better look. I came to a quick conclusion – definitely fuckable, and cheeky with it. He raised his eyebrows at me as if asking my opinion, arms spread out and open and awaiting my judgement. I liked his style, instead of muscling in on me he was letting me have the control. I grinned at him in approval, and he grinned back. He was definitely the cutest thing I'd seen all night, and if he didn't turn out to be an asshole it was pretty much game on. Of course, I wasn't going to make it to easy for him so I momentarily glanced away, looking over his shoulder and scanning the rest of the crowd. But a moment was all it took to forget him as my vision snapped to attention at the sight of a dancing figure in the centre of the room. It was as if someone had switched on a powerful electro magnet, and I was made of nothing but iron. There was no conscious thought behind the steps that I took forward, I simply had to move. Blonde boy thought I was heading towards him and opened his mouth to speak, but I brushed past him without a second glance as I zoned in on the object of my fascination.

It was her. The mystery girl from Paris. The not-model who was more effortlessly beautiful than any of the girls we'd paid to be professionally gorgeous. What the fuck was she doing here in Bristol? Was she somehow being paid to pop up at different moments in my life and randomly distract me? She was dancing on her own, eyes closed and arms raised above her head, looking totally lost in the music. She looked sexy as fuck, but it really didn't seem as if she cared what anyone else thought of her. If she did, she would have opened her eyes and caught me staring at her as if she was the first human being I'd seen after years of being lost on a desert island. Not that I would have minded being lost on a desert island with her. Again, what the fuck Katie? I shook my head and tried to clear my mind of her, but it didn't work. Just like back in Paris, she seemed to have the ability to stop the world around her and capture my complete attention. A desperate longing for knowledge overtook me, as powerful as a thirst. I had to know who she was, and why her very presence sent me into meltdown. But my stupid legs stopped shy of my target. I could hardly march up to her, interrupt her dancing and demand answers. Besides, why would I want to interrupt her dancing? Why would anyone want to disturb that sultry liquid mercury of motion. I looked around at the hungry sets of eyes that surrounded her. It seemed that plenty of people would have loved to have interrupted her, to intrude their own clumsy movements against her own. She must have been able to sense the desire that charged the air around her, but still she didn't give a fuck. I loved that she didn't give a fuck.

Suddenly her eyes flicked open, and I gasped as I was reminded of the impossible depths of their blue. She smirked to herself as she took in the hopes of the willing sinners around her, each of them ready to throw themselves at her feet in an instant given the slightest encouragement. But none was forthcoming. I got the impression that she thought them fools. I knew I should have moved out her vision before she spotted me, averted my eyes before she caught me staring and lumped me in with the rest of the idiot moths that flickered around her cool addictive flame. But I couldn't move. I couldn't even blink. I stared at her like a baby fascinated by a mobile, enraptured by colour and movement it was too young to understand. And so I stood, open and vulnerable, waiting to be cut down by her disdain like all the rest. Because she didn't give a fuck about anything, and she sure as hell wasn't going to give a fuck about me.

But then the impossible happened. The moment those killer eyes landed on me they lit up with recognition, and her smirk transformed into a smile. I cursed the fact that I'd necked that whole pill in one go instead of just testing the water with a cheeky half, as it suddenly felt like my liquid centre had just cracked open like a throat sweet and now warm goo was just trickling through me as my limbs turned to jelly. The fact that she hadn't forgotten me filled my heart with a ridiculous euphoria, and I just wanted to hug everyone around me so I could share my happiness. Ok, I knew I had to be high, cause this was not the Katie Fitch that used to strike terror into the very bones of her subordinates. This was not cool at all, but somehow I couldn't stop my stupid grin from growing so wide I was convinced it was going to split my cheeks in two. It's ok Katie, I told myself, you're fucking wasted. This chick is not some kind of ethereal superhuman. She is just a pretty girl who knows how to work a crowd. So what if you make a fool of yourself tonight? No one will remember it tomorrow. I closed my eyes and snapped my gaze away from mystery chick, even though it felt like some kind of physical effort to do so. I glanced around at my fellow sailors in the sea of love, and saw that the wind had carried us all in the same direction. Shipshape and Bristol Fashion? Nah, we were Shitfaced and Bristol Fashion – all fucked up and three sheets to the wind.

When I looked back ol' Blue-eyes was still smiling at me, and I put my hand over my face to stifle a giggle. In my former life I'd met rock gods, football players and movie stars with aplomb and yet here I was, spazzing out over some girl I didn't even know. And yet somehow, I wanted her approval more than anything else in the world right now. I wanted to have made an impression. I wanted her to give a fuck, if only for a moment. With the tiniest inflection of her head, she invited me to join her on the floor. It felt like my veins were running with paraffin and she had just tossed over a match. Yes motherfuckers that's me Katie Fitch, and I am invited. The coolest fucking woman on the planet wants to dance with me, and I didn't even have to try.

I sashayed over there, suddenly full of chemically assisted confidence, and started moving next to her. She didn't say anything. Of course she didn't say anything, but the charcoal framed pools of blazing blue welcomed me in, and she began to match my moves with her own. Fuck this was good. We were hot and we knew it, and pretty soon every boy in the place was going to be drooling and dreaming over us. She was a beautiful dancer, and I wondered if she was a performer of some kind, but I couldn't be bothered to ask. Trying to shout to her over the tunes would only have disrupted the perfection of the moment. For the first time since I lost my job, and was perfectly and truly happy, and I didn't want to mess with that for anything. I knew it was only temporary, and that tomorrow would bring the same old crap tumbling down into my life again. But that was all the more reason for just letting the moment be.

In some kind of unspoken agreement, we both began to amp things up a little, our dance becoming a little more suggestive as we moved around each other, dipping low and daring each other into sexy moves. We weren't touching, and yet we slowly began to edge closer together, and synchronised our bodies till it looked like we were loaded with filthy intent. It is true that the power of suggestion can be much more powerful than anything too obvious, cause I could fucking feel the heat rising around us. I turned around so my back was slithering just centimetres from her front, and I saw blonde boy with his mouth hanging wide open. I winked at him, and then shut him out again, closing my eyes and letting myself anticipate mystery girl's undulations by instinct alone. It was brilliant. It felt so fucking natural dancing with her, it was almost like dancing with Emily. The same kind of intuitive understanding. I smiled to myself at the memory, me and Ems dancing together to dirty basslines in even dirtier dives to wind up boys for me and girls for her, until our horny teenage asses could pick out the cream of the crop. But the longer I danced with mystery girl, the less I seemed to care about anyone outside of our duet. Her attitude to seemed to be rubbing off on me. The dance stopped being a performance and became an experience. The heat and noise and light began to form a comforting cocoon around us, blocking out the rest of the party. This was no longer a showcase for interested parties. This was all about me, and I didn't give a fuck either.

Until she touched me. It was the lightest of touches, the tiniest grazing of her hands against my hips, but it felt like I'd taken an adrenalin shot to the heart. Without asking any kind of permission from my brain, my body sank back against her and our movements became even more entwined. I felt some of her hair tickle the side of my neck, and the muscles in my back twitched where the soft roundness of her breasts pressed into them. I looked down at her pale slender fingers, which were now dancing across the tops of my thighs, and suddenly I gave a fuck alright. I gave a very large fuck indeed. Calm down Katie, I told myself. Girls dance like this with each other all the time. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean it's happening again. I breathed slowly in an attempt to regain my equilibrium. I needed to relax and enjoy the moment. It was just a bit of munted fun after all. And it seemed my theory was correct as she made no attempt to escalate the contact. There was no wandering of hands, there was no kissing of my neck (even though my brainless head had rolled to one side of its own accord, exposing my flesh just on the off chance she wanted to take advantage of it). It's just a dance Katie, I repeated as I tried to slow down the hammering of my heart that the kiss of her breath across my bare shoulder was inspiring, it's just a dance.

I had almost managed it when, a slender arm snaked its way across my belly pulling me tighter to her, and the inside of my chest was treated to more erratic drumming than a stone circle at solstice filled with bongo playing stoners. I was exhilarated and alarmed at the same time. I hadn't felt anything like this since… I squeezed my eyes shut tight against the memory. Don't fucking go there now. Besides, this is nothing like that. It's just a fucking dance. The DJ must have changed without us realising it, because suddenly the music seemed much slower. Mystery girl span me round to face her, one arm still wrapped around my waist and the other draped lazily across my shoulders. The lights flashed briefly to a brighter setting, and I could see she was smiling the smile of the beatifically wrecked. Her brain was on holiday and her movement was being driven from a place that was far more deeply buried within. Even though we swayed against each other like lovers, I could tell she was lost within her own little world. Her top hand lifted from her shoulder and ran through her own hair, dragging itself down her face and neck, until it slid down my side and rested on my bum. She was bombed and seeking tactile experience, and she didn't much care whether it came from me, or from her own slender fingers. I let one of my own hands follow the same path and the reaction was almost identical, she rolled her head against the sensation and let out a contented sigh. Whatever she had taken was hitting her full throttle now, and she began to rub her cheek against my cheek. It wasn't sexual, at least I don't think it was for her, just the wasted need for physical exploration. But me, it was driving fucking crazy.

I suppose I should have stopped it. Relinquished my hold and slipped away into the night before things got out of hand, but who was I trying to kid? I hadn't had a shag in ages and this girl was starting to seriously turn me on. I was going to hang on to this sensation for as long as I possibly could. I let my hands start to travel slowly across her body. Up and down her back, across the curve of her ass, and down the sides of her legs. She didn't reject me, in fact she welcomed each new sensation I offered her, rippling her body against my touch with the same fluid grace she'd shown when dancing on her own. She raised her arms above her head again, showing more of herself to me, and fuck me, she was just too damn gorgeous for me not to accept the invitation. I traced the contours of her jaw, and then slid my fingers down her neck to explore the rich paradise of her shoulders and her collarbone. I raised my hands up to her elevated wrists, then dragged my nails down the sides of her bare arms. She let out a little moan and let her arms fall round my neck again. We danced slow and close for a while, our hips starting to bump against each other with increasing frequency, and I started getting tingles in all the wrong places. I knew I was setting myself up for a fall, but somehow I just couldn't do the sensible thing, it felt too good to be this close to her, and ever since she'd touched me there hadn't been another soul in the room.

The music changed to a faster beat, and we slid away from each other a little, but still maintaining contact, my fingers trailing up and down the sides of her arms, and her hands still clasped firmly round my bum. She still had her fucking eyes shut, and I willed her to open them, so I could at least try and gauge if this silky mobile embrace was having any effect on her. Her hands went above her head again, and she started to thrust her hips a little harder against my own. Fuck it, I couldn't take much more of this, I had to fucking know. Once again I reached up for her and dragged my nails down her left arm, but this time I didn't stop until I had traversed the curve of her shoulder and let my fingertips graze lightly over her breast. My lungs seized as I realised that she wasn't wearing a bra, and that her nipple was erect. In the same moment her eyes shot open, but the blue in her irises had practically disappeared to be replaced by the massive darkness of her pupils. So was it drugs or lust? Oh please God, let it be lust. Or both…

She shot an arm around my waist and yanked me closer to her, twisting her hips until our thighs were intertwined. I was still struggling for breath as she started to move against me. She was still pulsing along with the music, but each pulse pushed her leg against my clit, and the burn went all the way up to my stomach. I shoved my hands up into the delicious mess of her hair, and gazed into her eyes with as much intent and focus as my own drug-addled brain would allow me. She didn't flinch or turn away. She simply stared back at me with those beautiful dark eyes. I remembered the way she had held her ground against me back in Paris. Had I finally met my match? Only one way to find out.

I pulled her closer until her lips met mine, and felt her respond almost immediately, opening her mouth and tilting her head to the side. I pounced on her delicate invitation, deepening the kiss, the taste of her sweet against my tongue. It was a sumptuous feast of a kiss, a Hollywood kiss that sent its repercussions stinging through my whole body. The kind of kiss that leaves you shattered and breathless even though you never want it to end. A hurricane kiss that sweeps everything away in its path. A monumental amnesiac kiss that makes you forget the person you were before your lips had danced together, and turned you simply into the person who was kissing this girl, and who wanted to carry on kissing this girl for as long as humanly possible. Until she pulled away, and every fibre in my body cried out at the loss of her. She looked shocked, and muttered something that sounded like 'murder'.

"Murder?" I questioned her, forcing a laugh to spill from her lips. It was a beautiful laugh, and it made me want to kiss her again, and for the rest of the night.

"Merde," she repeated, smiling sheepishly.

"You're French?" I said, suddenly recalling her speaking to the French technician. I had been so tuned in to hearing French in Paris I hadn't even noticed.

"Half," she said. "My Dad is English."

She spoke English like a native, but there was the tiniest hint of an accent that sent shivers down my spine, until I realised what she had said in the first place.

"Why shit?" I asked her, it was not the kind of response you would hope for when you've just had the kiss of your life.

She was still holding me, and it took her a few seconds to answer.

"I can't really do this," she said, her eyes full of regret. "I kind of have a boyfriend."

Of course she did. Of course a woman that beautiful would have a fucking boyfriend. The disappointment shook me like an angry tiger, and I felt shredded in its wake.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking genuinely contrite. "I didn't expect it to get out of hand like that. I thought you were straight."

Jesus Christ girl, so did I, but the mess in my knickers was telling me different.

"So where is he now? The boyfriend?" I asked.

She shrugged in a way that only the French can, and despite myself it made me smile.

"So he doesn't mind you wandering off and dancing with strangers?" I said.

"I think he's learned not to," she said. "He doesn't really dance, and I love to dance. I kind of need it."

"So you just go round seducing hapless strangers?" I said, though my voice carried no venom. For some reason I was finding it impossible to be angry with her, possibly because she was still standing far too close for someone who didn't want to be with me.

"I'm so sorry," she apologised again. "I really didn't mean to lead you on. I thought it would be safe. If you dance with a guy they always want something to happen at the end of it, but with a girl it's different… usually."

"Maybe you should try being a little less fucking sexy when you dance," I suggested.

At least she had the grace to look a little guilty.

"I really am sorry," she started to apologise again.

"I get it," I said. "You're straight, and you just wanted a little innocent fun."

So why have you still got your arms around my neck, I wondered. Why are you still letting me hold your beautiful face in my hands? And why is there such mischief in your eyes?

"Evidently not so innocent or so straight," she smirked at me.

"How so?"

"I kissed you back," she said.

"Yes you did," I replied, feeling incredibly smug as the memory washed over me.

"But I still can't…" she smiled at me sadly.

"I know," I said, although my heart was screaming like a petulant toddler.

"Not that I.. I mean if I wasn't with…" she muttered. "I totally would."

"You don't have to sugar coat it for me, Babes," I said. "Let's chalk it up to the heat of the moment. You know, I'm straight too. I've only ever been with one other girl."

"What happened?"

"She was a cheating cunt," I spat with uncensored ferocity.

"Wow," said mystery girl, stepping back from me for the first time, but her fingers still lingered around my hands. "I don't want to be a cheating cunt."

"I don't want you to be either," I told her. "I'm glad you stopped us. I actually respect you for that."

"So do we get to be friends?" she asked hesitantly.

"We can try," I replied.

"I'm Effy," she smiled and kissed the back of my hand. "Enchanté."

"Nice to meet you too," I said. "I'm Katie."

She pulled me back into a platonic embrace, and I fought hard to crush the waves of desire that shook me. I could get over it. She was just a girl. Though I could fucking kill for a line of coke and a fag right now. Effy pulled away from me and smiled as if she was reading my mind.

"Fancy a line?" she said.