Better Than Running at Night
Adapted from the novel by Hillary FrankThis is the opening chapter of a novel about a young woman (called "Ellie" though her given name is "Ladybug"), a freshman at New England College of Art and Design. Here, she recounts her first social event, a costume party...
ELLIE:
I wanted to move freely: swing my arms and jump around. But the Devil wouldn't stop dirty dancing with me. He grinned through glistening red face paint, grinding his hips against my body. The attention was nice, but my thigh got stuck in his crotch for too long.
Finally he spun me out right at the beginning of "Love Me." When I turned around, I was facing a sneering Elvis. He approached me, singing sincerely with hand gestures and all, as if he'd been waiting for this opportunity all night. Like he'd requested it. Before he got close enough to fully serenade me, the Devil pulled me back toward him, grinding slowly from behind. He spun me around so I was facing him and lifted me, twirling me in the air, making my gypsy skirts catch the wind.
Elvis circled around us, lip-synching in my direction and making puppy dog eye contact.
The Devil put me back on the ground, which Elvis interpreted as an invitation to cut in. Soon the three of us were dancing together; suggestive movements, since the Devil would have it no other way. Elvis fumbled with one of the strands of beads around my neck and kissed me - first little pecks, then longer and slower. The Devil's fingers crept up a different strand, tugging as they went. His hand bumped into Elvis's and Elvis stopped kissing me to push the Devil's hand away. The Devil quickly wrapped his arm around my waist and whisked me away and kissed me, too. Between kisses he bit my lips gently.
I'd never thought of biting as a good thing before.
When Elvis started stroking my hair, the Devil turned and kissed him hard on the lips, as if that would distract him from me. But it didn't seem to faze him. Elvis went along with the kisses, then broke away and grabbed me again. Soon we were all making out, taking turns with who got control. I could tell who was who without opening my eyes; the Devil kept trying new things like sucking my lips, while Elvis always had the same average French kiss.
Elvis's lips and chin were smeared with red makeup. Some from the Devil's face, some from my lipstick. The Devil's face paint was all splotchy, with bits of flesh showing through, especially around his mouth.
The more we made out, the more I realized this guy didn't look like Elvis at all. It wasn't anything specific, but he definitely was not Elvis. He began to lose his charm and I gravitated towards the Devil. We both stopped giving Elvis his turn, so eventually he sauntered off. I was still smooching the Devil at the end of the last song, and he offered to walk me home.
We left under the glowing exit sign.
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