Elodie's mother took the hairbrush firm in her grip and began running in through Elodie's luxuriously rough hair. The brush felt nice on her scalp, like a man's fingers, but sometimes in the areas where it was obstructed by stubborn knots it dragged, and pulled, and made her feel altogether uncomfortable. But for the most part Elodie liked it, it gave her tingles. And Elodie's mother liked it, she liked holding her child, and assuming a maternal role. She was elated when Elodie had asked for her hair to be brushed. It was as if her child was bleating for milk once more.

But a mother to a seventeen year old albeit. They were almost equals.

"Elodie, darling, we're going out tonight and I was wondering if you'd like to come."

Her mother went to the furthest extent to take Elodie wherever she went, although if inappropriate. Elodie remembered the first time she was taken clubbing - aged 12. It was peculiar how champagne tasted to horrid back them but so utterly sweet now!

Elodie replied leisurely, as she watched Ruso through her window. "Perhaps."

It was Friday and on Friday night's Gustavia lit up, it practically glowed - with light, sound and unbridled energy. It was fun. And maybe Elodie needed that fun. It seemed as of recent she had been living an altogether rather depressing life.

"We'll be leaving at 9ish, that is if you'd like to come."

Elodie could feel her mother finishing as every stroke began to melt as the brush ran through her now silky hair. She could hear the hairband being pulled, ready for use. She could hear the exasperation in her mothers hands, hardworking hands that strived for satisfaction.

"I think i will come."

And that was it. Her mother tied her hair and left, as per usual in their conversations. Elodie sat at her desk and applied her Chanel perfume to the nape of her neck and her clock changed from 6.15 to 6.17 and then she looked back at Ruso but he was gone. She then squirmed around in her bed as if she were some sex object and then she lumbered around her room and then she read some Wilde and then she drew in pencil on her wall and then she looked at the clock and it was 7.30 so she laid on her bed and stared at the ceiling and ran her fingers up her side and took her top off and ran her fingers up and down the part of her hip where it curved and it felt ethereal and then she looked at the clock and it was 8.15 and she decided to get ready.

She opened her closet and looked at her clothes. She wanted something slutty. Something sexy. Something that would swallow her little body and wrap it up and present it. She had a tube top; made out of black latex and one size too small for her so she put it on and it really did make her  look good. And then she put some jeans on but they made her legs sweat so she changed into a denim skirt and she let her hair down and put eyeliner on and blurred it out and put cherry lip gloss on and then put on her platformed boots and looked at the time and it was 7.45 and so she sat on her bed and just waited till 8 so that she could arrive fashionably late to the car. Not only did she arrive late, but looking damn good. Lucky Alexander, that Dora had sat in the middle seat. God knows how he would have controlled himself. 

Car rides seemed a weak spot for Alexander. He couldn't help himself stealing a glance at her gorgeous face and everything gorgeous about her. but although he looked, he tried not to think about it. He touched Dora's leg instead. It wasn't as if he was imagining it was someone else's. Imagining? is that the word? What about wishing?

They arrived at the club and  it was already bustling but nowhere near as full as it would get by midnight. Elodie's mother waved goodbye with a blown kiss and a reminder to stay responsible and Elodie dived into the crowd trying to find someone she knew to buy her a drink or to dance with or to smoke with but she didn't find anyone. So she made her way to the open rooftop where it was nicest to smoke and decided she would only start drinking later when she could find someone. She lit her cigarette and puffed and watched men watching her and felt ecstatic and kept puffing and then oh she noticed Alexander arrive a cigarette in his hand but she saw him see her and she saw him turn and reenter the house. Deliberately? Well almost certainly. 

But as long as he was gone life was free of burden.

It wasn't long before a man began to walk up to her. She expected it to be an old, horny, rich, wife-cheating type of bastard but when she looked up and their eyes met she was pleasantly surprised. A fresh-faced, familiar face. Of an appealing demeanour and an attractive body. A smile, one that made her smile, a controlled walk. He was neither young nor old; older than her at least at infinitely more prepossessing than someone her age. 

She didn't know him, but she had seen him before. And in the way he was approaching her, it looked like he knew exactly who she was.

"Elodie."

And he did. 

He brought himself up beside her and leaned himself against the wall, drink wobbling in hand. His side was up against her, all right. That accent - british was it? She had heard it somewhere.

"Do i know you?"

He smirked at her little comment.

"You will by the end of tonight."

He was witty and charming; qualities ensured to capture any girl, let alone Elodie.

"You're quite witty aren't you? And charming too." He took a sip of his drink. "Do i get a name?"

He put his drink on a ledge beside them and turned to her so that she could see him in the entirety and so that he could look at her in her entirety.

"Josh."

"Sounds familiar."

He crossed one foot over the other.

"I work with villas. I think your family came round one."

Oh yes, she did remember him. But when thinking about it, he did look awfully more mature tonight.

"Funny, isn't it? How people meet and then distance and meet again," he added. 

"Do you wanna dance?" she asked, as she neared the end of her cigarette. He didn't look like the type of guy who wanted to dance.

"Let''s do it then," he tossed back in a nonchalant manner, grabbing her hand and leading her back down the stars and to the dance floor. She could see the dance floor as soon as she took a step down the stairs, and stood there for a second, watching.

God! It was throbbing. Pulsating, oscillating as people jumped and the beat of the music thudded throughout the building. The light scintillated, flashed, palpitated and pulsed and she could see herself began to get sucked into the surging thrums of the club.

Suddenly she was down there, pounding, jumping, grinding, sidling between people as she danced with Josh and she felt herself getting tired but she just kept going but then she realised what she needed and Josh knew what she wanted so he said it just in time:

"Would you like a drink?"

She giggled, because the music was getting to her.

"Whatt?"

"drink?"

"whattt?"

"Would. You. Like. A. Drink."

His face was really really attractive when he articulated his words like that.

"Yes please!" 

She had gone into the hysterically ecstatic stage of partying.

She grabbed his arm so that he could lead her again because he liked being led. He pulled her through the crowd and she liked being pulled. The bar came into view and Alexander at the bar came into view and she wanted to turn but she didn't because she was in her partying faze and anyway, she was linking arms with a guy.

Alexander saw her as soon as she came into view. How couldn't he? She was unforgettable. She was a beacon. His eyes relaxed on hers, his eyes were drunk. 

He was drunk, already. Drink in hand, slumped, in a rather tragic manner. Dora wanted to dance he didn't want to dance. So he had drunk, and now he was drunk. But he wasn't a messy drunk - just sleepy, lethargic, eyes staggering through the scene, the music reverberating through his body.  And he looked over at Elodie with another man and he felt something turn in his stomach. Perhaps it was jealously.

Elodie looked over at Alexander. He looked tired, melancholy, eyes drooping, eyes following her. She pitied him for a second. But then Josh led her to a seat at the bar next to her and she couldn't see Alexander but she could see the handsome face of Josh and he handed her a drink and she brought it to her cherry-glossed lips and to a sip and the alcohol tasted comforting on her tongue.

Josh's face was comforting to her eyes. His laugh was comforting to her ears. He made her excited. He brought her to dance floor and they began thudding their bodies up and down and up and down and against each other and suddenly she felt overwhelmingly tired and she looked up to the smirking face of Josh who was looking down at her as if he had been expecting her gaze.

"Can i sit down?" she whimpered over the music, and he nodded, pulling her this time, almost vigorously, to the couches on the other side of the room. She collapsed onto one and rubbed her forehead. He sat beside her and watched her, and she watched the floor and felt herself getting more and more dizzy. She closed her eyes for a while. He murmured something, 'would you like another drink' and she murmured no because she was obviously out of it. But he left her anyway to get another one.

Normally she could handle her alcohol; she didn't know what had gotten into her today.

She felt him come back; he sat very close to her and set their glasses down on the table. And that was when she saw it, white, white dissolving down into her glass, frolicking, dancing, and she realised the cataclysm of what had occurred. And she looked up at him and he looked down at her and he realised that she had realised.

With all the effort she could she bucked her legs away from him and launched herself out of the couch.

"Do you want me to take you outside?" he asked, acting surprised, as if he didn't know what was going on.

"Get away from me!" She yelped as she scrambled, feeling her head getting heavier and loosing control of her legs. She tumbled away from him and squealed when she felt his hand on her back as he tried to lead her back to him. She didn't like being led anymore.

She took it upon herself to focus; focus until she was away from him, focus until she was alone where she was safe. She bee-lined towards the backdoor, eyes furtive. outside was the single bathroom, the one with the dodgy door, the one that would keep her safe because only she knew how to lock it, and she would stay there, until better. It can't have been too bad, after all he only got

half the dosage

he could have wanted in her body,

to knock her out - that's what he

must

have wanted. 

But oh god!

 What would've he done to her

if 

she hadn't

 noticed.

Her head was spinning now as she grappled towards the shed - the door leant gently on its hinge and she reached for it before her eyes bulged at the sight of 

Alexander drunkenly lying, sleeping, or in a dreamy state, head and back on the wall, legs spread across the tiled before. He must be awake- She saw his eye glisten as he noticed her - but it was too late to turn around. 

It was moments before her legs began to give way - she wrestled for the lock on the door and pulled it shot with a sharp knot. Her knees buckled first, then she collapsed between his legs. She heard him murmur something before she fell into his arms, sprawled across his flaccid, yet muscled body. He didn't move, but she could feel his legs tense to take her weight. Exhaustion overcame her, but fear fled - she felt strangely safe enveloped by him, with him. She could feel the presence of his conscious, she could feel his anxiety for her well being, but she knew, that like herself, he was too knackered to do anything. 

They didn't move. It must have been thirty minutes before Elodie fell asleep, but Alexander never did, despite his dormant trance. It was two hours before he regained control in his hands. And then he put them to use - not to get away, but to comfort. For in his misty mind he felt the urge to touch her - not to hurt, nor to abuse, just to run his finger up and down her petite nose and his other hand to meander his pinky along her waist. And she felt it. And it made her rapturously blissful. They both seemed to be in a debilitated,  abstracted, soothing, distrait stupor of entanglement in each other.

He did this until he regained control of his legs three hours later, and that was when he stood up and took her in his arms (in a peita-like pose) and carried her outside to find a car to get home but he couldn't find one so, with cloudy thoughts, he decided to carry her all the way back home - over the hills, halfway across the looping island, at a time when even the birds slumbered and the butterflies ceased to flutter. It was painful to his sore legs, to his headache-tortured head, but he pushed, pushed.

She wouldn't remember this, he told himself. She was picked up by her mother when she fell asleep first. Nothing ever happened. They never touched that night.

and, he reminded himself, they never would.

never!