Going Down (The Captain / Julian)

Chapter 4

Two of the women - two of Joycie, Peta or Sandra, it didn't matter - had draped themselves over Julian, who was dragging them back through the dance floor and to their table. It had been hours of dancing, hours of heavy petting, and if Julian didn't inhale a two litre bottle of mineral water in the next minute, he couldn't be held liable for collapsing.

As they twisted through the disorientated mob of half-naked dancers, every accidental brush of some person's body against Julian's side was like an electrocution. He wanted to reach out and touch everyone, feel their skin, run his hands through their clothes and tousle some hair. Occasionally, unable to help himself, he did. Nobody in the unwitting crowd noticed.

Julian collapsed at one of the empty seats at their table, swallowing gulps of air, shivering with fever. He grabbed one of the bottles and tipped the rest of its contents into his mouth. He came away with only a paltry mouthful of lifeless champagne, which he swallowed greedily. After discarding the bottle on the table, where it summarily rolled off the surface and thunked on the floor, he sluggishly surveyed his surroundings.

The minister had the last one out of Joycie/Peta/Sandra pulled onto his lap and, by the looks of things, was doing a thorough inspection of her tonsils. The other two - the two Julian were with - had taken seats opposite him. They were touching each other in the way that women could, one of their hands scratching nails down the others forearm, the other's painted lips close to the shell of the other's ear as they shared whispered secrets under the thundering music. Julian couldn't decide whether he wanted to be just an observer to their intimacy or shove himself in between them. Maybe he could fuck one of them, mouth at the other. Or one could make use of his fingers as he took the other from behind. Pressure built in him to share the obscene spectacle being offered in front of him, the heat just underneath his skin surging with the possibilities. Yes - if Hugo joined in, there were so many other options. They could fuck one of them each, or fuck the same one. Julian was struck with the fantastic image of Hugo's dark eyes, his hands gripping Julian's throat and pushing him into the bed, as the two women did the exact same next to them, and the little moisture Julian had in his mouth evaporated.

Julian swung his head around, but couldn't see Hugo in any direction. He stretched out a hand and tapped insistently on the minister's shoulder. Eventually, the minister fished his tongue out of the young woman's throat and turned to him, groggy and flushed.

"Where's Hugo?" Julian yelled.

The minister gestured with the hand not gripping the young woman's arse at the entrance to the club.

"Jacket's there though -" the minister added loudly, waving at one of the empty chairs.

Julian clambered through a group of people making their way from the bar to the dance floor, and reached Hugo's jacket. He automatically began searching the inner lining, but stilled his hand as he realised he had no idea what he was looking for. It was just habit, whenever Hugo's jacket was concerned, to treat it like a tuck shop. But what was it Julian wanted? Yes - water. Water didn't come out of Hugo's jacket. Water wasn't at the bar either. Water was outside. And Hugo was outside. And he wanted Hugo as well, didn't he?

Julian squeezed the exposed shoulders of the two women as he left, enjoying their softness against his palms. But they were so wrapped up in each other, he doubted they even noticed.

*

The coolness of the outside breeze felt heavenly as it slipped through Julian's matted, sweat-soaked hair. He revelled in it like a cat under attention, then unsteadily clambered down the large stone steps which led to the stretching beach, his eardrums trembling with leftover bass. He saw a distant, dark figure a few feet from the ocean, seated on the darkened sand, his back lit by the neon lights of Brighton behind them. Julian's shoes crunched on dry pebbles as he half-jogged towards the figure.