booktowrite

It was another one of our Spanish parties at which the guests were all punk rockers and doctors. We had a special guest from France there too. Within the first hour I met a beautiful young lady who was wearing the perfume that you always wore. As she spoke to me, and the scent filled the air, I was filled every emotion from desire to despair. I recalled how that smell was so prevalent as you and I kissed and undressed, how it held the promise of pleasure enveloped in the warmth of a loving embrace and yet, as this stranger spoke to me, the same smell reminded me that you were gone. I tried to forget about that and focus on the present, to open my mind to new people. Then, of course, the beautiful young lady’s boyfriend arrived. I was surprised, he was very short and unusual looking… I wondered how he had won the heart of this incredible woman. ‘He must be rich’, I thought. He came to speak to me and it turned out that he was the owner of a professional football club. Red wine was flowing and the night descended into a darkened blur. The French guest was missing and then some people started shouting ‘get him out of the toilet… NOW!’ I went to the toilet and called his name. ‘I can’t come out, man, I can’t come out.’ I insisted that he just open the door and let me help. The door opened and the floor and sink were filled with red vomit. I escorted him from the building, put him into a taxi and sent him to his hotel. I walked back inside to find everyone was leaving. Some were going to a club and I began to walk with them. Then I realised that nothing mattered and got into the first taxi I saw to go home.