The End

by Charlotte E Hart

  My eyes open at the awareness and scan to see if anyone’s watching. No one is. No one cares. They’re all too busy feeling the same sensations I am, getting lost. So I turn and close my eyes again, not wanting to see the person who’s doing this to me. I don’t need to see. I don’t care. It’s happening regardless of who it’s happening with.

  She’s so close, so close that I brush her breast. It makes a blush rise through me, my hand hovering around the area, momentarily unsure what to do with the thought. Fuck it. It’s as hot as I am, the feel of it in my hand an enticement I can’t refuse as I let my mouth move in again. I rub at it, gently teasing the soft flesh until I find the nipple through thin fabric. And then lips are on me, their impact as mesmerising as the music.

  I’m lost in them before I know it, wiling her hand further into the jeans she’s hovering around. It causes a groan to echo from me into her mouth as our tongues begin swirling, chasing each other around and heightening the mood. It’s all so damn sexy, riddled with sin and connotations of fucking. It’s just like him, which only makes me dare a pinch at the nipple on offer, twisting it sharply to encourage her hand inside me. It inches in at the request, travelling along the fine down carefully, perhaps not sure what it’s doing either.

  I push my pussy into it, moaning into her mouth again as I feel the slight contact with my clit and welcome it. Nothing’s stopping this now. Nothing. We’re sandwiched in, surrounded by a room full of bodies grinding on us. I don’t care if they’re watching, joining in even. We should all do this. Fuck ourselves stupid until nothing’s left but heaving bodies and primal need. And then something changes in the hands holding me, they become bolder, tightening all over me and dragging me into them. It causes another gasp and groan to come from me as they do what they want, slowly pushing further in and finding that sweet spot inside.

  “Fuck,” I cry out, as I break away from the lips and tip my head into the music again.

  I open my eyes and just stare upwards, not wanting to know who is doing this to me and not caring either. I’m just here, flying in the hands of a woman as another tune bangs out, blues, greens and pinks flashing through the air, my mind churning along with it all.

  It’s mind-bending, as my orgasm starts crawling through me, making me want nothing more than the fall at the end. And the sounds keep coming along with the rhythm of her hand, a momentum building because of it. It makes my legs tremble, weakening under the pressure of what’s happening.

  I grab out at something to hold onto behind me and lean into it. Hands are quick to wrap around my waist. I don’t know who they belong to. What does it matter anymore? It doesn’t. Nothing does but this orgasm that’s coming.

  The hands are firmer than the woman’s, harder. A man’s, I should think, not that I care. They’ll do. Anything will. They grope at me, my breasts being squeezed and tugged, fondled as a mouth latches onto my neck from behind. And then it leaves me, pushing me back towards the woman and leaning over me. The vision of her face as I’m pushed at her comes too late for me to do anything about it. My orgasm’s coming too quickly, the gentle pounding of her hand driving me into it as our eyes meet for the first time.

  Bree.

  I gasp, shocked, as she locks lips with the man over my shoulder, too involved in the moment’s escalation to stop it and too wound up by the sudden vision of her kissing someone to really care. It explodes inside me, sending my body lax between them as she keeps rubbing and he holds me up, our combined bodies still moving to the rhythm around us. Oh god, Bree. And who the fuck is this guy? I’m not sure if I care or not. Maybe I don’t. I don’t know as he begins running his hand down my body, too, his fingers heading towards hers still moving inside me. Fuck, what’s happening? It’s all strange, perverse. It’s Bree. I can’t…

  His lips come back to me again, the feel of them on my cheek as mesmerising as hers. I stare at her, dumbfounded and hazy about the whole fucking thing as she draws her hand out of me. Bree. I shake my head at her, not knowing what I am doing. Perhaps it’s him on me, or the fact that it’s her. I don’t know. And he fucking pushes on me, guiding me away from the crowd. I snatch at Bree’s hand, unsure what the fuck I’m doing but knowing I’m not going to stop it. No way. And Bree’s coming with me. She is. I want her there. If this is going to happen, she’s coming, too. I need her. We started this, and we’ll finish it together regardless of who this guy is.

  Everything seems to flash by as we move, a blur of lights and bodies zooming past as my feet keep moving, the rhythm seeming to propel them onwards. Is this what I’ve become because of Blaine? I’m insatiable with the thought, almost leading him rather than being pushed. And I’m heading for those toilets I was thinking about, searching the walls for directions and madly barging people out of the way. Jesus, what’s wrong with me? His lips are fucking divine on my neck, still nibbling occasionally, chuckling at my impatient hustle through the throng of revelers. Bree’s still with me. I can feel her fingers in mine, following me as if she wants this, too. Why? We’ve been friends, nothing else. I don’t understand. It’s foggy, a mess in my brain, but it feels good, right. I can’t process it, nor do I bloody care at the moment. If this is me, if this is what I want, then I’m taking it without thought.

  I feel like this because Baine’s made me see it, don’t I? It’s as liberating as him. Freeing. I feel bold and unabashed with my decisions as I push another woman out of the way and finally see the arrows pointing to the place I want. I hurry on, dragging Bree and turning to see him for the first time. He’s handsome in a pretty way. Ruffled blonde hair, a sexy as hell smile, blue eyes that remind me of Blaine’s sea. Fuck. It makes me greedy for him, for Blaine actually, but he’s not here. This one is. And he reminds me of him in some way, perhaps around the eyes or that smile. I don’t know, or care. I can hardly see in this light anyway. I’m drunk. She’s drunk. We’re all damn well drunk and who gives a fuck anymore? I’m behaving like a slut. I might as well enjoy it for a while, no regrets or recrimination. It’s a one off.

  “Left,” he says, his hand pushing me into a doorway as he opens it. It’s not the toilet; it’s a store cupboard we all fall into. It’s rammed with goods and bottles of cleaner, barely enough space for the three of us to stand in. He doesn’t give me a chance to think about it, nor Bree, as the door closes and it goes dark again. His mouth is on mine instantly, my own fingers dragging him to me in the dark, feet tripping over something.

  “Lana,” Bree says. I barely hear her over my desperation to fuck, my hands beginning to rip at his belt. It’s insatiable. Voracious. It’s like nothing’s finished here yet. It’s not complete until I’ve got everything from the moment. I’m taking it. I have to. It’s like I have my own power here. I’m in control of it. I’ve never felt anything like this need before, unless it’s been with Blaine, and he’s always in control of everything. I need to know this is me, too, that it’s not just his influence. “Fuck, Lana. Stop for a minute.” My mouth tears away from him to look at her as she pulls on my arm, my fingers still yanking at his jeans.

  “What?” I pant, my mouth wanting nothing more than to latch back on, and have her get involved in the kiss, too.

  “Look at him.” What? I back off a little, pushing his chest away from me. What’s wrong with him? I scan his body, looking for issues, but there’s nothing to see. In fact, in this muted light, he’s hot as all hell and I’m still gagging for him. It’s ludicrous how much I want him, actually. “Really look, Lana.”

  “What?” he says, his hands grabbing for me again. She moves behind me, sounds scattering the quiet space. “Come on, ladies. You’re not fucking stopping this now.” No, quite right. It’s happening. The light suddenly flicks on, momentarily blinding me. I raise my hand, trying to stop the sensation interfering with my flow.

  “Christ, Bree,” I spit out, flummoxed by her sudden halting of proceedings.

  “Lights on is fine by me,” he says, his fingers pulling me towards his crotch as he leans in
to kiss me again. It’s fine by me, too. Bree can leave if she wants. I don’t care anymore.

  “Look at what you’re doing,” she snaps, her hand wrenching me away. “Or who.” I stumble back, the force of her pull making me stumble over something beneath my feet and collapse to the ground. I look up as I scrabble to my knees, catching the glimpse of his hands undoing his jeans before carrying on to his face. “Look, Lana.” He sneers a little as he looks down, impatience etching his face, and the instant he does I can see exactly what she’s talking about, even in my drunken haze. He looks like Blaine, his jaw mirroring the exact same lines, his eyes boring into me with his frustration.

  “What’s your name?” I snap up at him.

  “The fuck does that matter?” he replies, hitching his jeans around as I watch sweat run along his cheekbones. Oh god, he really does look like Blaine. “You wanna suck it?”

  “No, she doesn’t,” Bree cuts in, her hand on my arm to haul me up. I just stare up at him, letting Blaine’s eyes look down on me, their power as strong as they’ve ever been when he looks at me. Oh god, what am I doing? I’m here with a stranger, and Bree. “Get up, Lana.”

  “Who are you?” I snap out as I clamber to my feet. “Name?”

  “The fuck’s wrong with you two?” he says, confusion coming over his features, changing his whole face to one I don’t know. He looks like a lost schoolboy suddenly, hardly anything of Blaine remaining because of it.

  “NAME?” I shout as I move into him, fuelled by my own edginess, or my insatiability to mate with men in store cupboards. God, I’m a slut.

  “Fuck,” he says as he backs off, his eyes looking between the two of us, his hands in the air. “Cole. What’s your problem?”

  “Surname?”

  “Jacobs.”

  The air puffs out of me, my feet stumbling back at the recognition. It causes realty to come racing back, the sex-driven drunken haze evaporating at the same moment. Christ.

  “Come on,” Bree says quietly. “We’re out of here.” I’m still staring, unable to process the fact that I nearly had sex with Blaine’s brother, let alone the fact that Bree had her hand in my knickers, or is even in here with us.

  “No you don’t,” he says, his frame blocking the door. “You don’t do that and then just leave. The fuck is your problem?” My eyebrows shoot up at his tone, amused perhaps at how similar he sounds to Blaine when he’s frustrated.

  “You sound like him,” I mutter, a slight slur attached to the laugh that follows. Christ, this is utterly absurd. I look down at myself, noticing my undone jeans, and laugh some more as I pull them back together and zip up.

  “Who?” he replies, his hand trying to reach for me. I bat it away, still giggling around in my thoughts as I look back at Bree and smile. This whole situation is bizarre. And if he thinks I’m even slightly scared of him he’s got another thing coming. I’ve been under his brother. These schoolboy fumblings mean nothing to me, regardless of how good those lips felt.

  “Your brother.” Good god, I need to get out of here. Regain some bloody control over myself. For a start, have a conversation with my best friend about why we just did what we did. “Get out of my way, Cole.” He stares back, his face a picture of confusion, which just makes me laugh again as he stands in front of my exit out of here. “Or can you do what he does?” The thought intrigues me for a second or two, making me wonder if he’s into the same thing as I scan his features again. “Can you?” Because I might carry on if he can. Bree coughs, probably at the thought, or me. Even without Blaine, I’m doing this. I’m searching for it in Cole’s eyes, wanting nothing more than tightening hands and something to tell me to get on with this, forget my own confusion. Nothing’s there, though. He’s empty of Blaine’s commands and dictations. He’s simply out for a good time, ready to fuck the next thing that offers itself, I’m sure.

  A sigh comes from me. I need to go home, sleep this off. Try and rationalise it in the morning maybe. “Cole, please, just let us out. This is done.”

  He still stands there, probably as perplexed as I am. Although, I’m not getting high grade intelligence flowing from him, more a sense of baffled bewilderment. It makes me chuckle as I look at him and remember Blaine’s dark eyes and scowl. He’s so different from the Jacobs brother in front of me. Grown up, perhaps. Older, wiser. Nastier. Dirtier. The thought makes my insides clamp around nothing again and I snarl at myself, wishing he was here to deal with this fucking ache I can’t do anything with now.

  I end up pushing him out of the way, grabbing Bree’s hand as I do. Whatever this has been, it’s over, and Bree and I need a chat, or another bloody drink. A large one. He lets us go as I turn out of the room, clinging to Bree as if my life depends on it. The feel of her in my hand makes me shake my head at myself and giggle, as I wander through the crowd again, leading us towards a bar. Perhaps we don’t need to chat. Perhaps this is just something that I’ll do now. I’ve been turned into something I wasn’t before, enjoyed it. Why should it need explanation or discussion? I’m not even convinced I want to discuss it. The thought has me smiling wider as we creep through the throngs, my fingers feeling comfortable in hers. Maybe this is just who I am, who the real Alana is.

  “Hey, you’re the girl, aren’t you?” a voice shouts behind us. I swing round to see Cole following, his body cutting through the crowd. “The one I crashed into?” I turn from him again, still with a smile as I continue aiming for the bar. What a night. What a morning. Everything changed that morning. I didn’t know it would, didn’t know my whole being would change because of Blaine, but it has. For the better, I might add.

  He suddenly arrives at my side then slides in front of me, a warm smile on his face as he looks at me and runs a hand through his hair. He seems disheveled, as I smile at him, still searching for similarities. Brother. What a strange thought. Blaine seems so alone all the time, distant from the world around him.

  “You look different. Your hair’s down,” he says, reaching for it. I pull away and twiddle the purple tips of it, trying to envisage Blaine in this guise. Friendlier, happier. Cole looks almost contrite, a boyish charm in his uncomfortable posture, nothing like Blaine ever does. I stare again, wondering what I could ask him, if I should even. He must know so much about who Blaine is, why Blaine is. “He wouldn’t let me see you after. Said he’d kill me if I went in your room.” The words make me snort and smile, imagining Blaine in his irritated mode, his eyes levelling antipathy at anything that dares defy him. “Let me buy you a drink to say sorry,” he shouts over the music that’s building again, his frame leaning into me. I raise a brow, wondering what for. I’m not sorry about any escapade I nearly got involved in. Not really, only that it was Cole. I’d still fuck now if his brother was here. “Not for that, you two are hot as fuck. A man has needs.” He smirks, which makes me laugh as I watch the crinkle of his eyes, the lines of them the same as his brother’s. “I mean the crash. We could talk,” he points at the bar. “If you wanted too. No fucking involved.” He holds his hands up. “Promise.” Talk.

  Bree squeezes my hand behind me, making me turn to look at her. She nods, then pulls me into her.

  “You need this, Lana,” she says into my ear. “Go with him. Learn about that man who’s got you all fucked up.” I’m not fucked up. I know that much without any guidance. I’m alive and finally beginning to feel it again. “We can talk about this another time.”

  She smiles at me as she squeezes my hand again, letting me know that whatever this was, it was okay. I know that too. Odd, perhaps. Different, yes. But it’s okay. I nod at her, accepting that I absolutely do want to know more, and if Cole can give me something that will help organise what I do about Blaine then I’ll take that information from him. Besides. I am thirsty.

  “So,” Cole says behind me, as I watch Bree go. I turn back to him, tilting my head at what exactly he’s going to offer with his ‘no fucking involved’ statement. He hovers there, his hands sliding into his pockets nervously as he gla
nces around.

  “You’re nervous, Cole,” comes from me, amused at his change in temperament from the man ten minutes ago. “Do I make you nervous?”

  “Anything to do with my brother makes me nervous,” he replies.

  I smile, as he pushes alongside me, clearing a path to the crowded bar and hailing a female bar tender. She’s there instantly, her boobs aimed at him without much thought. He leans across and orders something, kissing the side of her face as he does. Seems he’s on a winner after we’ve done our talking. It’s another thing that makes me smile and chuckle to myself, amused at his affability. He’s nice, happy. Cute even.

  I end up wandering back into the masses while he waits there, my body not caring to stop with whatever partying it was joining in with before. It’s all so happy in here. No worries, no concerns. Nothing to think about or tax myself with. I just let my frame mingle again, the occasional bash from someone welcomed really as it reminds me of carefree abandon.

  “Drink,” he calls.

  Drink and words. Conversations about someone I’m trying to deal with, a life I’m trying to fathom. It causes a slight sigh to leave me as I turn, the weight of my fears coming out with it. He tips the tall glasses of clear liquid at me, his smile a reminder of the very man I’m trying to process, and then waggles it as he moves towards the side end of the bar. I follow, bracing my hands to my side, perhaps hoping to knock this free for all Alana out of myself and concentrate on serious matters, but I don’t want to, not really. I mean, why should I? Why should I let this relaxed nature dissipate into fogs of trying to understand a man who is indecipherable on most occasions? Perhaps I should just accept the fact that I can’t have everything I want with a man like Blaine, and maybe that’s the fucking point. It might just be that his strength around me lies in the fact that I don’t see his fears, shouldn’t.