I'm Sorry but the Party's Over
Chapter One
Psychedelic lights lit the yacht, hypnotically rotating and dying everything they passed over in different gels of colour. Beating pulses of music set the rhythms for twists of starlight hair and ribbons of limbs to move as they would; whether they followed the sounds or not was a different matter. Occasionally a shout or scream of exhilaration and excitement pierced the music, though more often they just blended into the wall of sound.
Cooler sea air slid over them as they celebrated, and uninviting waves began to rock the boat steadily back a forth, like a child on a rocking horse without control of the reins, but this was lost amongst the spirited atmosphere.
Fingers flowed through waterfalls of hair, and lips touched lips, cheeks, foreheads, palms, shoulders, necks; kisses falling to earth like shooting stars. Breasts met chests, hips found hips, hands on waists, heads laid against shoulders. Whose it was didn’t matter.
Inside the boat, the music seemed to be a distant echo of the minutes before. Melody Harper was seeing the world through a haze of dreams forgotten, dazed with alcohol. She knew that she was lying on something warm and welcoming, folds of material caressing every inch of her bare body and that there was someone lying next to her. It was a man, definitely a man, but the exact identity meant nothing right now, just as he believed that the smudges of mascara and traces of lipstick that disfigured her face meant nothing.
He rolls over to find her, then moves back, with her lying on his stomach. She feels the warmth radiate off his skin and into hers, that absorbed by the heat from the distant memory of the day. Fingers trace along the road of her spine before driving towards the valley of her waist and the summit of her hipbone. Her violent red nails softly score along his neck and chin, over his clean-shaven face and slight jawline, while the last traces of matching colour left on her lips leak into his skin.
Their bodies fit together like pieces from two different jigsaws; closely but in some places not quite right, digging in or leaving unneeded gaps. Stray limbs find themselves in tangles and frayed knots, move to release themselves before being caught up again. Each part of both their bodies makes and releases contact, rolling together like the waves that now begin to slowly pick up strength and speed outside.
Melody’s mind is a blur of unsteady, uncontrolled movements, flashes of colour, muffled sound and swirls of alcohol-stained vision. This is the closest she’ll get to sex right now, full-on passion and wild intimacy with an unidentifiable man. She knows him, she must, she knows everyone on this boat, but the name can’t come to her, not when her brain is so intoxicated.
Hands running, sweeps of tongue, soft kisses, scrapes of nails, fluttering chests, sweet and heady breaths of mingled alcohol…
***
When Melody rejoins the frenzied dancing, she doesn’t feel as she often would do after almost-sex. Or was the ‘almost’ really needed there? Still, the warm, mild ache at the bottom of her stomach isn’t normal.
She dismisses this uncertainty, and starts singing the new song in between more gulps of alcohol. She didn’t know what she was drinking, and she didn’t give a damm.
Look at her dancing
Just take it... off!
Let’s paint the town
We'll shut it down
Let's burn the roof
And then we'll do it again
Let’s do it
Let’s do it
Let’s do it
Let’s do it
And do it
And do it
Let's live it up
And do it
And do it
And do it
Do it, do it
Let’s do it
Let’s do it
Let’s do it
The repetitive tune and lyrics are trance-enducing, enough to make her lose control all together. She is here to have a good time, and that is what she is going to get. She knows that this trip will be good; sun-drenched days and fired nights lay mapped out for her before her eyes.
As the classic black dress creases and curls around her figure, taut stomach and toned bum, and her ash blonde hair swings with her, she has no idea that whatever she thought now was nothing like the trip she would get…
Cooler sea air slid over them as they celebrated, and uninviting waves began to rock the boat steadily back a forth, like a child on a rocking horse without control of the reins, but this was lost amongst the spirited atmosphere.
Fingers flowed through waterfalls of hair, and lips touched lips, cheeks, foreheads, palms, shoulders, necks; kisses falling to earth like shooting stars. Breasts met chests, hips found hips, hands on waists, heads laid against shoulders. Whose it was didn’t matter.
Inside the boat, the music seemed to be a distant echo of the minutes before. Melody Harper was seeing the world through a haze of dreams forgotten, dazed with alcohol. She knew that she was lying on something warm and welcoming, folds of material caressing every inch of her bare body and that there was someone lying next to her. It was a man, definitely a man, but the exact identity meant nothing right now, just as he believed that the smudges of mascara and traces of lipstick that disfigured her face meant nothing.
He rolls over to find her, then moves back, with her lying on his stomach. She feels the warmth radiate off his skin and into hers, that absorbed by the heat from the distant memory of the day. Fingers trace along the road of her spine before driving towards the valley of her waist and the summit of her hipbone. Her violent red nails softly score along his neck and chin, over his clean-shaven face and slight jawline, while the last traces of matching colour left on her lips leak into his skin.
Their bodies fit together like pieces from two different jigsaws; closely but in some places not quite right, digging in or leaving unneeded gaps. Stray limbs find themselves in tangles and frayed knots, move to release themselves before being caught up again. Each part of both their bodies makes and releases contact, rolling together like the waves that now begin to slowly pick up strength and speed outside.
Melody’s mind is a blur of unsteady, uncontrolled movements, flashes of colour, muffled sound and swirls of alcohol-stained vision. This is the closest she’ll get to sex right now, full-on passion and wild intimacy with an unidentifiable man. She knows him, she must, she knows everyone on this boat, but the name can’t come to her, not when her brain is so intoxicated.
Hands running, sweeps of tongue, soft kisses, scrapes of nails, fluttering chests, sweet and heady breaths of mingled alcohol…
***
When Melody rejoins the frenzied dancing, she doesn’t feel as she often would do after almost-sex. Or was the ‘almost’ really needed there? Still, the warm, mild ache at the bottom of her stomach isn’t normal.
She dismisses this uncertainty, and starts singing the new song in between more gulps of alcohol. She didn’t know what she was drinking, and she didn’t give a damm.
Look at her dancing
Just take it... off!
Let’s paint the town
We'll shut it down
Let's burn the roof
And then we'll do it again
Let’s do it
Let’s do it
Let’s do it
Let’s do it
And do it
And do it
Let's live it up
And do it
And do it
And do it
Do it, do it
Let’s do it
Let’s do it
Let’s do it
The repetitive tune and lyrics are trance-enducing, enough to make her lose control all together. She is here to have a good time, and that is what she is going to get. She knows that this trip will be good; sun-drenched days and fired nights lay mapped out for her before her eyes.
As the classic black dress creases and curls around her figure, taut stomach and toned bum, and her ash blonde hair swings with her, she has no idea that whatever she thought now was nothing like the trip she would get…
♠ ♠ ♠
Lyrics taken from I Gotta Feeling by Black Eyed Peas.