by Chloe Carpenter
"Do we really have to go to this party, Mike?" Tiffany eyed the red brick Victorian house across the road: a large, sprawling place in its own grounds, surrounded by a walled garden with tall trees along the perimeter which screened most of the view from the street.
Tiffany peeked through gaps between the trees to see what lay beyond. An assortment of cars studded the driveway, and a small crowd of laughing, jostling people congregated by the front door, many of them with a glass or bottle in their hand. The windows of the two rooms either side of the front door had been flung open wide, venting the sounds from within, the rhythmic thud of music blending with the hubbub of voices inside, and from the terraces round the back of the house, shrieks of laughter and raucous shouts carried on the still air of early evening.
"Sure we do, babe. It'll be great, you'll see." Mike reached into the back seat of the car and grabbed the bag containing the two bottles of malt whisky they had picked up en route. Flicking a button on the key fob to lock the car, he slid the keys into his pocket and caught hold of Tiffany's hand. "C'mon. I'm looking forward to it."
Her heart sank. Maybe you are, but I'm not. "But I don't know anyone." She gave him a pleading look.
"So what?" He leaned down and gave her a fleeting kiss on the lips. "Have a few drinks. You'll soon unwind and start talking to people. They'll love you in that outfit. You look hot, honey."
"But-" She got no further. Mike yanked her forward and she tottered along precariously after him, already wishing she hadn't worn high heels.
Mike steered them across the road that was double parked with the vehicles of party-goers, and led Tiffany through a pair of impressive wrought iron gates. He whistled as they walked up the drive. "Look at this place - it must be worth a freakin' fortune. Craig and Sonia have one hell of a lifestyle. Did I tell you that Craig inherited the house from his old man, along with almost two million?"
"You did." Several times. Tiffany sighed. Money was a big deal with Mike. He had an average job that paid an average wage, and constantly moaned about the fact that he had no rich relatives to give him a helping hand to get the things he deserved.
"Lucky bastards," he muttered, his good-looking face breaking into a scowl of envy. But his expression was fleeting, the glower giving way to a bright smile as they entered the house. "Here we are, let's party!"
The wide hallway was thronged with people, and the two large reception rooms either side were equally crowded, some people dancing, others chatting in small groups. Tiffany looked round, oblivious to the admiring glances coming her way. She was one of those rare individuals who had no idea how pretty she was - though pretty was an understatement, she was stunning for a variety of reasons. Her hair was eye-catching, natural platinum-blonde tresses hanging down over her shoulders in a long bob. Big grey eyes fringed with dark sweeping lashes complemented her sweet elfin face that changed from mischievous to contemplative to shy depending on her mood, and when she smiled her entire face lit up and her eyes sparked with humour; there was no spark in them now because she felt ill at ease amongst this crowd of strangers, some of whom were openly leering at her curves.
At just under 5ft 3 she was on the short side, though her long legs were elevated by the four-inch heels of her strappy sandals, giving her the appearance of a leggy colt. Her slender waist attracted attention to her well-rounded bottom and the small yet full breasts nestling into her push-up bra. She wore a short black skirt and a silver cap-sleeved top that clung to her breasts and emphasized her cleavage. Her make up was light - a sweep of mascara, a hint of blusher on her high cheekbones, and a shimmer of pink gloss on her lips. The overall impression was sexy yet innocent, beguiling yet vulnerable - at least that was the impression formed by the tall man leaning against the wall.
Robert watched her with interest. She stood out from the crowd. There was an almost ethereal quality about her. He pondered on the dichotomy between allure and innocence, noting how her little hands trembled slightly as though she were afraid. Her eyes darted this way and that, her chest heaving. She reminded him of a small animal, fragile, vulnerable, and poised to take flight. He was close enough to hear the conversation between her and the man she was with.
"Go find somewhere to sit, babe. I'll go through to the kitchen and get us a drink."
"Can't I come with you?" Her hand shot out to clasp his.
"Nah. Stay here. I won't be long." He shook her hand away and called out a greeting to someone.
"Please, Mike... I-"
"Stop whining," he snapped, then moved away from her, pushing through the crowded hallway, leaving her staring after him and looking forlorn, like a little girl lost.
Paying no further heed to Tiffany, Mike strode ahead, rudely elbowing his way past Robert without an apology.
Someone slapped Mike on the back. "Hey Mike - I see you have the ice princess in tow again, huh?"
"Hey, buddy. Sure do." Mike grinned. "She's one stand-offish bitch but she's not short of cash."
"Send her round to me when you're through with her then."
As Mike and his friend continued on to the kitchen, Robert stared after them, his eyes narrowed in contempt. "Morons," he said aloud, then turned his attention back to the little blonde.
Tiffany bit her bottom lip. She wished she hadn't let Mike talk her into coming to the party and inwardly berated herself for not being more assertive. She stood awkwardly, the fingers of one hand clutching the strap of her shoulder bag as though it were a life line.
"Hey, gorgeous. Want some company?"
Tiffany turned round. A man of around 28 stood before her, swaying slightly, a glazed look in his eyes, one hand clutching a half empty bottle of rum.
"No. I'm fine, thanks."
"No. I'm fine, thanks," he mimicked in a falsetto voice. He held up the bottle. "Have a drink with me."
"No."
"Whaddya mean, 'no'?" He took a step closer, his eyes darting to the swell of her breasts. "Nice tits." He licked his lips, visualising his mouth clamped onto the studs of her nipples.
Tiffany gave him a withering look. "Get lost." She turned away from him.
"Hey not so fast." He grabbed her arm and spun her round to face him once more. "You're not bein' very polite. If you won't have a drink, how about a shag, huh? Come upstairs with me and I'll fuck your pretty little brains out. I'll ... hey! Hey!" He glared at the guy who had taken hold of his arm. "Who the fuck are you?"
"None of your business. The lady's not interested, so do as she says and get lost."
The drunken man swayed slightly as his fuddled brain tried to process the facts. He shrugged. "Okay, big guy. Have it your own way." He darted a venomous look at Robert then ambled off, cursing and muttering.
"Hi." Robert looked down at Tiffany and smiled. "Are you okay?"
"Yes." She took a deep breath then exhaled. "Yes I am." She gave him a tremulous smile. "Thanks for that."
"My pleasure. I'm Robert, by the way."
"Tiffany." She looked up ... and up ... into a pair of sparkling blue eyes. "Geez - you really are a big guy."
"Sure am." He gave her a conspiratorial grin. "Comes in handy at times."
"I bet." She appraised him briefly. "You have the physique of Superman."
"Maybe - but I don't wear blue tights over my underpants," he said quizzically.
"Oh!" She clasped her hand over her mouth and giggled.
He laughed with her, glad to see a smile on her face. "Tell you what ... this isn't a good place to hang out, it's a thoroughfare and far too crowded. Would you like to come out onto the terrace? I'll find you a seat and protect you from the wolves until your boyfriend comes back to claim you."
"Okay," she said without hesitation. She liked this man, felt safe with him, trusted him instinctively. "Lead the way."
There were half a dozen small tables and chairs on the terrace, all occupied, so Robert escorted Tiffany to a low stone wall at the end of the patio area.
"I reckon this will do." He sat down and patted the space next to him. "Sit down, Tiffany."
She did so. Hearing her name on his lips provoked a strange reaction. A faint blush rose to her cheeks and there was that delicious little tingle of butterflies dancing around in her tummy... she hadn't experienced that in a long while. Or maybe it was the way he effortlessly took control of the situation. She liked that. She cast him a sidelong look only to find he was smiling at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling. For some inexplicable reason her blush deepened. She hoped he hadn't noticed.
He had, of course, but sought to put her at her ease.
"There's a crate of soft drinks over there. Shall I get you one? Or would you prefer alcohol?"
"Oh - a soft drink will be fine, thanks. What are you having?"
"The same. I'm driving," he said wryly. "Back in a minute." He wagged his finger at her playfully. "And don't you move from that spot, or else! Got it?"
"Got it." Or else what? She returned his smile and found herself watching him. She reckoned he'd be around forty. For an older guy he was pretty damn hot, with the body of a Greek God and that winsome smile. He was good looking in an understated way, his dark hair flecked with the merest whisper of grey at the temples. He had a broad chest, massive shoulders and taut, muscular arms, the white t-shirt he wore contrasting with his tanned skin. Her gaze dropped to his black jeans with the hint of steel thighs beneath. At 6ft 4, he towered above many of the other men present.
Robert grabbed a couple of drinks, poured them into two glasses and strode back to Tiffany. "Orange juice for my lady," he said, handing her one.
"Thanks." She held up her glass and clinked it against his.
He returned the gesture. "To new friends."
"Uh huh. To new friends," she repeated, and sipped her orange juice.
Robert drank thirstily. "I needed that." He set the half empty glass on the wall next to him. "So, Tiffany ... I was going to ask if you were enjoying the party, but I think I already know the answer."
"Was it that obvious?" She shrugged. "I didn't want to come, I admit. Craig and Sonia are friends of Mike's. I haven't even met them."
"Mike is your boyfriend?"
"Yeah." She nodded. "He knows lots of people here, but I don't know anyone. He likes being around people. He's a real party animal."
"And you're not." It was a statement not a question. "How long have you being seeing Mike?"
"Not long really. Six weeks, maybe seven."
"I think he's a jerk," said Robert, remembering the overheard conversation.
Tiffany stared in surprise, then giggled. "He can be, I suppose."
Robert arched an eyebrow. "There's no suppose about it, young lady."
Young lady? What a quaint expression ... an odd thing to say, thought Tiffany, wondering why on earth she was blushing again. She looked down at her feet.
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