Thanatophobia (fear of dying)

Charity

“Hello, how are you?”

“Could I take your coat?”

“Wow, the weather is certainly nice for this time of winter.”

“The bathroom’s down the hall to the left.”

“Have a wonderful time.”

“Thank you.”

By the time the flood of guests had slowed down to a mere trickle, my smile was stretched uncomfortably across my face, and my feet had begun to ache from standing for so long.

I saw women dressed in feathered hats, in hundreds of thousands of dollars of laces and silks and furs, all standing in foot-long heels. Men rushed by in designer tuxes, hair smartly slicked back. I doubted that even one piece of clothing I saw was priced under two hundred dollars. 

Man this was going to be one long evening…Even now I felt my eyes beginning to droop of their own accord.

“Whoa there,” I jumped as Elliot smoothly hugged me from behind, rubbing his face into my neck.

His lips lingered there, kissing my sweet spot.

“Stop,” I groaned, “What if someone sees?”

“I don’t care,” he cheered as he planted a quick peck on my cheek.

Rolling my eyes, I turned to face him. His hair was gelled up nicely, his suit crisp and his eyes sparkling under the light of the chandelier. He looked wealthy, he looked fresh; he looked really really good. And he liked me. He actually liked me.

I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks as I stared at him and a grin slowly slunk across his face.

“Getting lonely out here?” he asked, with concern as he played with my hands idly.

I shrugged my shoulders, “I’m fine.”

“Well, fine isn’t fantastic – I want you to have some fun.”

I sighed, loosening his grip on my hands, “You shouldn’t want that. This night should be strictly about keeping up the gimmick. You wouldn’t want your staff to have an amazing time.”

“I guess you’re right,” he lightly brushed some of my bangs out of my face, “but let me know if there’s anything you need or want.”

“Okay. Have fun.”

“Keep up the good work, kitten.” He called out just before his back turned towards me and he entered into the echoing laugher and conversation of the party room.

“He calls you kitten? Why not Jezebel?”

I jumped, placing a hand atop my beating heart.

Pursing my lips, I turned to see Randall. “Why would he call me Jezebel?”

“Because that’s your name.”

“I think you’re confused…my name’s Kat…that’s why he called me kitten. It’s my nickname…a lot of people call me that…”

“Really now, Jezebel?”

“Here,” I offered, stepping forward to take his elbow, “Why don’t I help you back to the party? I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

He tore his arm out of my light grip. “Don’t play stupid with me. I. Know. Who. You. Are.” He threatened as he jabbed his finger at me.

I didn’t blink an eye, keeping composed on the surface, though on the inside I just wanted to curl up and hide, “Sir…”