You smile at him through the crowd of bodies crowding the small dance floor, and when he sees you he smiles back and begins to head your way. Moments later he's beside you at the bar, still smiling, and throwing money down on the counter to get you another drink.
I thought this might make me feel real.
A few drinks later you feel looser, more pliable. He whispers in your ear the perfect requests: "You want to get out of here?" It seems like a fine idea, and so you take his arm. Outside the night chill hits your skin and feels like ice. You shiver, hoping that he'll put his arm around you, but he doesn't notice.
I just wanted to feel alive.
In the cab you really look at him for the first time. Older than you, maybe thirty, but still attractive. He stares out the window for a moment and then, remembering your willing form beside him, turns and leans into you. His lips are cold, and as he thrusts his tongue between your lips and into your mouth you can taste the vodka he's been consuming. Bitter.
Maybe if I just close my eyes...
The cab stops in front of his apartment building. Not as nice as you expected, but he leads you upstairs to his apartment and you go willingly. It's furnished modernly; art deco, beige walls. In the living room he turns to you, takes you in his arms. He doesn't look you in the eye, but you don't really expect him to anyway.
I only wanted this to take me away.
In the stumbling to his bedroom you lose your clothes. He doesn't cherish your nakedness. Doesn't run his hands over you and tell you that you're beautiful. You simply fall into his bed and writhe together for a few too short moments. Then it's over, and you start to think about the best way to gather your things and find your way back to reality.
Maybe if I just close my eyes this will all go away.