We Are Tidal

Chapter Twenty-Nine - Striptease

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Striptease

A small but steadily growing pain had begun in my left temple some hours ago and only seemed to intensify as I approach the porch steps of a frat house on campus. Music seems to echo out of the open windows, thundering through my chest and straight to my aching head. I wince at the sight of the flashing lights inside the open front door. 

"Are you okay?" Ava asks me, taking hold of my hand in hers. "We can always go home and have a movie night."

At this, she looks around to find Willow and Nicole nodding encouragingly. After all, I had dragged them here. Strictly speaking, we never did frat parties. Too many girls had bad stories coming out of frat parties for any of them to feel quite comfortable here. 

"No, that's okay," I say, smiling sweetly. "We came here for a reason, let's get it done." 

Willow frowns, obviously worried about how the night will play out. I don't wait to hear her concerns before I march through the front door of the house, winking at the spotty-faced boy by the door who was obviously meant to be charging people for entry. A swift and unsubtle glance at the neckline of my low-cut black dress and we were ushered inside. 

Behind me, Nicole mutters something about feeling perved upon but I don't listen, already scanning the crowd. 

"Are you sure you don't want them to come?" Willow hisses in my ear. I know precisely who she means. For almost the entirety of our college experience, the Heavers have walked with us and been our back-up. I didn't need them for this. Not to prove a point, but because I knew precisely what I wanted to do. Art would find out later, but his opinion either way would not change my mind. 

I turn and grin at my wonderful, caring friends. I link arms with Willow and Ava, who pull Nicole in close. 

"I may need some liquid courage. What's the point in coming to a party we didn't pay to get into if we don't steal from free alcohol?" 

Together, we push our way through the crowd and toward the kitchen. The party is mostly boys, but some younger looking girls are busy on the makeshift dancefloor, others sit on the stairs, passing a bong between them. Someone has closed all of the curtains and opened the windows, using an old-fashioned disco ball hanging from the light to flash various garish neon colours around the open-plan room. 

Inside the kitchen, there was mostly beer, which I found disappointing. 

"Doesn't anyone drink vodka?" I complain. As always, Nicole comes to the rescue and pulls out a hipflask from her waistband. 

"It's whiskey," She says, shrugging and pulling over four red plastic cups. "As if I was going to let us drink anything any of these perverts could possibly spike. On that note, we're drinking neat. There wasn't room for any mixers in my skirt lining." 

I kiss Nicole's cheek as she hands each of us a cup and find myself laughing as Ava begins to bemoan the consistent use of plastic cups at house parties. She only subsides her rant and takes a sip when Nicole gives her a frowning look, followed by a far more impassioned kiss on Ava's cheek than the one I gave her. 

I down my whiskey in one, relishing in the burn of my throat. This was who I had to be tonight. Not the reformed Dylan who had been before and during Art. I needed to be the reckless Dylan who had accepted the purely physical love of a guy like Damien. I hold out my cup to Nicole and she nods, knowing I'll need it the most.

Several guys in the kitchen eye us with interest but back away at my obvious scowl. Several shots later, I take a deep breath and saunter back into the main sitting room. I don't allow myself to stop before I move onto the makeshift dancefloor, now more packed than ever as people are drunker than ever. The girls follow me, following my lead as we move into our usual style of dance, usually preserved for when once of us is trying to get someone into bed. I grind against Willow closely and she places her hands on my hips as Nicole and Ava mirror our moves. 

Before long, space has cleared around us in the room as girls slink away giving us either scowls or appreciating looks. Boys have moved closer, however, some dancing around us, but most watching appreciatively from the sidelines. 

I bend low again Willow's backside before looking up through my lashes to lock eyes with the boy sitting on the couch by the back wall, surrounded by friends and a cloud of smoke. Damien. He blinks quickly, as though he cannot believe he has found me here, of all places. I give him a small smile before turning my attention back to the music surrounding and cloaking us in seduction. Inch by inch, I move closer to them and the low table before them. Ava reaches it first, bending low to swipe the table clean of ashtrays and rolled jointed. None of the boys watch her, as they focus on the single strap of my dress that slips from my left shoulder as I step onto the table. I have a vague awareness of phones being pulled out of pockets, recording my dance, but I don't care. 

I allow my strap to fall low, the other following shortly after. Pressing my arms close together, driving my cleavage upward. When I rise up, Nicole comes up behind me and unzips my dress. It seems to fall slowly, inch by inch until it lands by my feet, exposing my entirely too revealing underwear. It is blood red and sheer, frills at my waist, and just covering my nipples. When I raise my hands over my head, the boys sigh, nudge each other, and laugh, some grotesquely holding their crotches. If I wasn't playing a part, I'd be disgusted. 

Damien shifts uncomfortably in his seat, rearranging his crotch slowly, deliberately. Ensuring that I am watching. Slowly, I nod for him to join me as I step off the table. He does, his hands wrapping around my waist. He leans low, whispering in my ear; 

"I always knew you wanted it." 

Bile rises in my throat but I pull back, smiling sleepily at him, as though we were the only two in the room. I do this before raising my knee to hit him hard between the legs. When he bends double in pain, I bring my hand down on the back of his head, smashing his nose into my still raised knee with a sickening crunch. Damien reels backward, falling back onto the couch, his nose spurting blood the colour of my underwear.  

"That's for the nudes, fucker," I spit at him before snatching up my dress and nodding at the girls. As the boys watch in horror and the girls scream at me that I am a psychopath, we walk from the party, as calmly as possible.

A/N: 

Welcome back, dear readers, 

I have to say, for obvious reasons, I really enjoyed this chapter! It was fun to explore what is empowering to some. 

Jens x