Hating the Player - Loving the Game

Chapter 5: Proceeding with Caution

Tugged away from the comforting outskirts of the club, I was now thrown amongst a sea of spastically gyrating -and perspiring- youths, ranging from late teens to mid twenties. I know it does not sound very pleasant - and at first it wasn't. There was that initial intense agitation at every single shoulder that brushed up against me, and every body that got in my path. And even though I was still mystified by what had just happened: I hadn't even had the time to get my head on straight before being whisked onto the dance floor - not to mention  that puzzling over how he had known my name was going to take multiple hours to mull over - in this moment I was more mystified that Jay seemed to be able to navigate the crowd without a hitch.

He glided through the sea of people, leading me by the hand until we were dead centre in the middle of the room. Just before he reached the centre of the floor, he smoothly turned to face me, slowly taking my other hand and  took an additional couple steps backwards until we had officially come to a rest in the middle. I took care to keep my expression from revealing anything, but underneath I was internalizing every micro facial expression and committing them to memory for later analysis. Like an animal in a trap - this felt like life or death. 

I was on the edge; I knew I had to play my part, but I was left without a script. I had to base my actions off of whatever he did next. The ball was in his court and he knew it. Even though he did not know the true nature of why he bumped into me at this club - which was definitely not fate - he was used to playing the game. Obviously not the game I was playing, but it was clear that he had a system - I plan to disrupt that system. I could see it in his eyes: the way they were lit up, but also attempting to gouge my expression just as I was gouging his, the way he knew that in this moment the next move was up to him, and how he cocked a small coy smile at me because he enjoyed drawing the moment out and building a suspense. I wondered if his smile was supposed to seem endearing, or perhaps even seductive - but all I could allow myself to register it as was a repulsive false pre-tense, an act he put on to get into girl's pants. I had to admit though, he was an excellent actor.

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The energy was catching like a contagion, and soon I was infected too; however, there was not a chance that I was going to entirely give myself over to the beat. I had to stay alert and play my part: and that I did. We danced for quite a while. I had danced at a couple parties and clubs before, and know how to move in order to appear sexy, rather than sloppy or trashy. There was no grinding going on, but there was certainly a fair amount of contact: I'd let him rest his hands on my hips as I moved, and in the packed room we were in pretty close proximity. I didn't mind the dancing, it is not as if it was something I hadn't done before. When I had the occasion to go out and let loose, I would usually find pleasure in a night like this. However, my motives were more 'business' this time around. I didn't mind the hands on my hips or the occasional breath on my neck; what I minded what that those hands and that breath belonged to Jay.

We danced for longer than I'd initially expected we would, before he started making more overt moves: sweeping his hands lower on my hips, coming to rest on my butt from time-to-time, and trailing light kisses on my neck. I acted with the appropriate level of interest, despite mainly feeling exasperation...and maybe an increasing nagging in the back of my mind that this might have been a stupid idea. 

I knew going into this that I'd likely have to make out with him for a little bit in order to gain his initial interest, and then find an excuse to leave abruptly, leaving him with a major case of blue-balls, and a sense that he wasn't finished playing his game. That was the plan we had concocted at my house yesterday - or rather the plan I passively deemed the best course of action (my previous 'on-a-mission' bad-ass self making me detachedly consider the plan as if it were equivalent to ordering a pizza. A means to an end). Jaime unenthusiastically agreed with me - but also putting in his two-cents that it seemed like a lot of effort to teach his brother a lesson and if we wanted he would find a way to get access to Jay's dorm room and we could egg his room instead. Millie on the other hand fervently protested my plan until I conceded, telling her I'd find another way to pull him in - using 'feminine whiles' that required less physical contact. Of course, that was a lie. This was the best plan, but I didn't want Millie feeling as if I was 'soliciting' myself on her account. This was a mission, plain and simple.