Primal Atavism

I fill in the consent form, including a two-hundred word paragraph on why I want the drug. For better or worse, I tap 'Submit'.

I'm surprised how much better I feel as I walk to the car. Even though I've not reallydone anything, setting the ball rolling is a form of progress.

'How was it?' Rachel asks as I climb into the passenger seat.

'Good. I filled out a consent form, and they'll let me know if I'm suitable for the next stage.'

'Which is?'

'An interview of some sort.'

'Great. Well it sounds like you had a productive day. Are you happy you went?'

'On the whole, yeah.'

'Glad to hear. How do you fancy pizza on the way home? We haven't had a proper catch-up since you got back.'

'Sure, if you're paying.'

She puffs out her cheeks. 'Students...'

We arrive at the restaurant and sit down, the morning's sitting and listening having made me hungry. Both creatures of habit when it comes to pizza, we order the same toppings as usual with the promise that we'll poke fun at each other's tastes.

'You should be ashamed of yourself for having pineapple on pizza,' Rachel says.

'At least it's not boring. Margherita...you can do better than that.'

'Wow, you've only been to the presentation and already you're getting sassy with me.'

'You started it.'

'It's a good tip though, women enjoy being teased a little.'

'Rach...'

She holds up her hands. 'I know, I know. You don't want dating advice from your sister.'

I take a bite, then wash it down with a swig of cola. 'Should you even be giving advice? You haven't had a boyfriend in forever. Your dating life's almost as bad as mine.'

'I go on dates,' she protests, deliberately showing me a mouth full of food. 'I just haven't found the right guy.'

'Good look finding him with manners like that.'

She shoots me a glare, then we both start laughing. Her phone buzzes on the table.

'That'll be Aleisha,' she says, picking it up. 'She wants to get ready at mine. Eat up, I've got some chores to do before going out.'

I bite into my last slice of Hawaiian, trying to hide my excitement about seeing Aleisha later, Rachel's earlier dismissal of my chances with her all but forgotten.

*

Rachel's infamous going-out playlist blares in the background. To me it's just lazy, manufactured pop music, but she says it puts her in the mood. I sit on the sofa, trying my best to ignore it and read a book, but all I can think about is Aleisha's imminent arrival.

My gut flips at the sound of the buzzer to the flat.

'Keep your eyes in your head,' Rachel teases as she hurries past the sofa.

She opens the door and the inevitable excitability of women greeting each other follows. By the way they carry on, you'd think they haven't seen each other in years. After the giddiness dies down, Rachel shuts the door as Aleisha sashays into the flat, still as gorgeous and sexy as ever. I'm not sure if my eyes are still in my head, but judging by Rachel's expression, I suspect not.

'Dylan!' Aleisha squeals. 'I haven't seen you in ages.'

She extends her arms and hurries towards me, and I stand with such speed that Rachel can't help but giggle. Aleisha wraps her arms around me, and I lamely extend mine around her shoulders.

'How's uni? You must be havingso much fun.'

'It's good.'

Her body feels unbelievable pressed against mine. She's an enthusiastic hugger, and her breasts squash against my chest, all warm and full. She smells amazing too, fresh with a hint of sultriness from her perfume. I inhale before she pulls away, knowing I'd be content if the hug lasted forever.

'Babe, is it okay if I put my stuff in your room?' Aleisha asks Rachel.

'Sure, I'll get us some drinks.'

Aleisha skips off to the bedroom while Rachel takes a bottle of rosé from the fridge.

'We'll be heading out in about an hour,' she says, ruffling my hair as she breezes past me. 'Goodnight if I don't see you.'

The door to her bedroom closes, and I'm left in the lonely emptiness of the living room, my moment with Aleisha gone in a flash. I try to get back to my reading, but then someone turns the speaker up. With the combination of Katy Perry's 'Firework' and Rachel and Aleisha's high pitched giggling, I don't stand a chance.

I ought to go to my room, stick my headphones on, and block out the racket with a podcast or film before bed. But I know I won't; I'm going to stay here until they go out, so I can catch one last glimpse of Aleisha before they leave.

After about an hour, the music stops and Rachel's door opens. My palms sweat as I hear the click-clack of approaching heels.

Rachel crosses into my eyeline first, and it surprises me how good she looks. I'm aware she's objectively attractive from my school friends constantly telling me how hot she was, to my endless frustration. Obviously I couldn't relate, but then I'm sure Aleisha's male relatives feel the same about her.

'We're off,' she says, 'behave yourself, okay?'

She giggles when I frown at her, and I can tell she's had a couple of glasses. Just as I'm about to fire off a retort, my words are snatched by the sight of Aleisha, and a dumbstruck gargle escapes my throat.

'Do you like my dress?' she asks playfully.

I can't even begin to think of a reply. She stands before me, an ebony goddess, radiant in her black dress and heels. Her dark hair cascades over her shoulders, framing a face of smouldering make-up complete with come-hither eyes and full, glossy lips.

'Don't tease him,' Rachel says, although I can tell she's amused. She brings me out of my trance with a kiss on the cheek. 'Love ya,' she chirps.'

I cringe and wipe my face.

'Maybe he'd prefer one from me,' Aleisha says, and before I can process her words, she bounds over and gives me a peck on the same spot. 'Later, tiger.'

As if that isn't enough, as Rachel opens the door and they step through, Aleisha turns to me, winks, then lifts her dress to reveal a black thong that disappears between her bum. The heavenly sight lasts a split second before she lets go and the dress falls back into place. Rachel shuts the door with a rosé-induced lack of subtlety, and the noise echoes through the flat as I'm left alone.

My cheeks burn in the aftermath of Aleisha's kiss and show. I touch the warmest spot and feel a trace of lip gloss under my finger. I bring it to my nose. It has a faint cherry scent, and my loins stir at the thought of tasting it on her lips.

With the highlight of my night over, I go to bed. It's at times like this I'm at my lowest ebb, alone on a Saturday night while others are out enjoying themselves. Torturing myself with thoughts of the lucky pair of hands that might be all over Aleisha later, I lament my lack of ability to share in the fun experiences everyone seems to rave about.

Rachel

'You shouldn't tease him like that,' I say to Aleisha as we get on the tube. 'You know he fancies you like mad.'

She shoots me a devilish smile. 'Really?'

I give her a playful shove as the doors close. Straight away, she spots two guys at the opposite end of the carriage and drags me by the hand to sit opposite them.

'Hi, mind if we join you?' she says, not giving them much of a choice.

They both grin like they can't believe their luck. 'Of course,' one of them says.

'I'm Aleisha, and this is my friend Rachel.'

'Mike,' one of them says.

'Greg,' says the other. 'Nice to meet you.'

'Likewise,' Aleisha says. 'So where are you boys off to tonight?'

'We're going to my mate's club,' Mike says. 'Fancy it? Free drinks all night.'

'And I'm a white girl,' Aleisha says.

He grins. 'Worth a try.'

We continue the small talk, learning that they're flatmates who work in finance. As the conversation progresses, I focus more on Greg as Aleisha gets cosy with Mike, which suits me. Mike seems like a bit of a poser, while Greg is more down to earth.

I discover our first shared interest as the conversation turns to trash TV. Aleisha brings up the showLove Island, and I concur on a point about the hunkiness of one of the guys in the villa. I look at Greg with an embarrassed smile as if to apologise for having rubbish taste, but he bravely confesses that it's a guilty pleasure of his, too.

The train nears our stop, and Aleisha and I head for the doors. As we step onto the platform, I feel a hand on my arm.

'Can I get your number?' Greg says.

I smile. I thought he wasn't going to ask. 'Sure.'

He hands me his phone with the new contact screen already up. As I type, the doors start to beep, indicating they're about to close.

'Quick,' he says.

I punch in the last few numbers as fast as I can, hoping I don't make a mistake, then throw the phone through the closing doors. He catches it and the train moves off, and I turn to Aleisha feeling like a giddy schoolgirl.

'You slut,' she teases.

'Hey, I wasn't the one leading Mike on!'

'Touché. Now let's go and get drunk.'

*

We arrive at the club Aleisha has been raving about for weeks. I just opened, apparently, and has already gained notoriety as a nightlife hotspot. An electric blue neon sign above the door readsHelium, and the queue extends a fair way down the street. We join it and, as it shuffles along, get talking to a group of guys in front. Aleisha gets to work fast; barely after introductions are made, she scores her first free drink.

After the bouncers search our clutch bags, we get our first taste of what all the fuss is about. A 360-degree bar occupies the centre of a room lined with white leather booths, all bathed in pale blue light. A staircase at the rear leads to a basement dancefloor.

We find an empty booth, and one of the guys buys us a drink as promised. Mine is purely a courtesy; he's far more interested in Aleisha, who's got him in the palm of her hand. Chatting to some of the others reveals that they're uni lads out on a rugby social, which explains the size of them. It's mortifying to find out that the eldest is only twenty, almost a decade younger than Aleisha and me. What must they think about two women pushing thirty driving up the average age of this trendy new club?

They seem not to care as the drinks flow, and after a few rounds we migrate to the basement. It's an assault on the senses. Music blares, I can barely move for bodies, and dozens of spotlights fire blue beams through a smoky haze. We take to the dancefloor and lose ourselves in the music. Most of the rugby guys have gone off in pursuit of conquests, and two remain with us—also, of course, in pursuit of conquests.

A glance to my right reveals Aleisha and her man-mountain, tongues intertwined as he runs his hands all over her dress. When 'Turn It Up' reaches its chorus, prompting a spike of energy throughout the dancefloor, he slips his hand under her dress. She breaks from the kiss and tilts her head back with a dreamy expression.

Watching her reminds me just how long it's been since someone did the same for me—not on a nightclub dancefloor, but in general. My sexual appetite isn't quite on her level, but every girl has needs, and I can't deny the pangs of envy as she succumbs to the naughty pleasure. Taking inspiration from his teammate, my guy tries a similar manoeuvre, distracting me with a kiss and sneaking a hand under my dress. I emit a yelp that goes unheard amid the music. Envy aside, that's a step too far, and I pull away and make for the toilets.

Catching my breath, I stare at myself in the mirror. This has never been me—he's ateenager, for goodness sake. As I dab water on my face to cool off, the ladies door opens and a giddy Aleisha joins me at the sinks.

'Can you believe how fit he is?' she says.

I nod absent-mindedly.

She leans in and whispers, 'He just fingered me on the dancefloor.'

'Leish!'

'What?'

'Too much information.'

'Oh come on, I can tell you're gagging for some. It's been almost a year since Jason.'

I sigh, leaning against the sink with both hands. 'Ugh, is it that obvious? I can't deny I got a little flustered watching you out there.'

Her tone suddenly changes; she's always been able to sense my mood. 'Are you alright, Rach?'

'Yeah, it's just... What did I do wrong?'

'What do you mean?'

'For Jason to sleep with his boss. I thought he was the one... I thought I'd be planning a wedding at this stage of my life, not kissing someboy on a nightclub dancefloor.'

She takes my hand, her face firm with an expression of solidarity. 'You did nothing wrong. Jason's a prick, and you deserve better. He lost the best thing that ever happened to him when he cheated on you.' I tear up, and she gives me a hug. 'Hey, don't get upset. You're a gorgeous girl with a heart of gold. It won't be long before you find Mr Right.'

'Thanks,' I say with a sniff.

She pulls back and smiles. 'Your mascara's running. You should have told me if you weren't feeling it tonight, we could have done something else.'

'It's not that, I've been looking forward to this for ages. I'm just being silly.'

'We're allowed to be silly sometimes. Do you want to get out of here? We could get a bag of chips like the skint old days.'

'You'd give up Muscles for a sad dinner with me?'

She gives me a playful nudge. 'Chicks before dicks, Rach, you know that.'

I let out a much-needed laugh. That's one of the things I love about Aleisha, she always puts friends first. As much as I want to take her up on her offer, I'm not about to ruin her night.

'No, I want you to stay here and enjoy yourself. I think I'll head off, though, unless you need help out there.'

She scoffs. 'When have I ever need help getting a guy?'

'True.'

I wipe away my mascara trails, then we head back through the dancefloor to the stairs to the ground floor bar.

'Are you sure you're okay?' she asks.

'Positive.'

She gives me another hug. 'Call if you need anything.'

'Will do.'

I climb the stairs and make my way to the exit, then freeze as I pass the bar. In the booth nearest the door, Jason is getting cosy with a woman. My thoughts blur. It shouldn't be a surprise; he's entitled to move on, I just hadn't expected to see him doing it. A barman asks what I'd like to drink, but I'm too absorbed in the nauseating spectacle to acknowledge him.

I rush out of the club, suppressing a desperate urge to cry. She looked similar to me: blonde, curvy—she was even laughing at his stupid jokes. That last part hurts the most. He looked happy and content, like he's found someone for the future, whereas ten minutes ago I was being groped by a guy barely out of school.

Jason and I had been going strong for nearly six years, and I thought he was the man I was going to marry. In fact, I'd been convinced he was about to propose, but unfortunately he had a different surprise in store for me. He went on a work trip to New York as part of his company's expansion into North America, but instead of coming back with a ring, he brought a confession. On his last night there, after a drunken night out, he slept with his manager, a woman twelve years his senior with a husband and three kids.

Needless to say, it floored me. Who he'd done it with shocked me more than what he'd done. He hadn't succumbed to the temptation of a hot young thing, instead his moment of weakness had come with a middle-aged mother whom he'd always complained about.

I believed him when he said it wasn't planned, and that he still loved me and didn't want to lose me.Couldn't lose me. I have no doubt his remorse was sincere, and I considered forgiving him, but deep down I knew I'd never be able to trust him again. If we had carried on, his betrayal would have cast a constant shadow. I told him it was over with tears in my eyes, and I still count myself lucky that the two most important people in my life, Dylan and Aleisha, helped me through it.

It's colder outside than I remember, and I rub my arms in an effort to keep warm. I consider walking back to the tube station, but after looking up and down the shadowy street, I decide to play it safe. I take out my phone to call a cab and see that I've got a message, probably Aleisha double-checking I'm okay. Unknown number. Odd. I open it.

How's your night going? Greg.

I smile, not having expected him to text so soon. While on another day I might have thought him a little too keen, after seeing Jason, it's just the lift I need.

I decide to reply with a clearer head after I get some sleep, but as the cab pulls up, a carefree defiance sweeps over me. If Jason's moved on, why shouldn't I? I tap my reply.

That's up to you. Where are you? X

I press send. No going back. I've never been that forward before and regret immediately sets in. My mind races as I get in the cab, worried I'll have scared him off.

'Where to, love?' the cabbie asks.

My phone vibrates as I'm about to reply. I look at the message and grin, then give the cabbie a destination.

*

I haven't had a good shag in months, and my pussy practically sings as Greg drives his hard cock into me, straining the bedsprings to their limit. I know I shouldn't be doing this; other than the TV he likes and that he's good with his tongue, I barely know a thing about him. Ugh, why did I have to send that tex—

'Oh, right there...'

I cover my mouth, aware that Dylan is asleep down the hall and of how terrible that makes me. But my god, his cock feels good. He's not bad to look at either; his torso glistens with well-received effort, and I feel a naughty thrill with each slap of his balls against my arse.

'Fuck me,' I whisper, lending my voice to my inner bad girl who so seldom gets let out of her cage. 'Harder.'

He speeds up, and my eyes roll back as my first ever hookup cock fills up the condom inside me. I don't climax, but being ravaged for the first time since breaking up with Jason was more than satisfying. We kiss as he comes down from the heights of orgasm, then cuddle up together in a breathless mass.

I place my head on his chest and focus on the rhythmic thud of his heart. As his breathing softens with approaching sleep, I graze his sensitive cock with my fingers and smile upon feeling the heat in the tip of the condom, sagging with his load. Again, I probably shouldn't have done it, but it's nice to know I can still have that effect on men.

Dylan

I trudge into the kitchen to find Rachel worse for wear over a bowl of cereal. I can tell she hasn't had much sleep, but then again, neither have I. It's a modern flat, and in modern flats, walls are thin and sound carries.

I obviously knew that Rachel wasn't a virgin, but it was always nice from a brother's perspective to retain the remote possibility that she was. Last night obliterated that possibility. To be woken up by her clattering through the front door was bad enough, but to hear my sister in the act took things to a disturbing new level.

'Good night?' I ask as casually as possible.

'Oh my god, you heard...'

I fill up the kettle. 'Maybe a little.'

'God, I'm so embarrassed. I'm so sorry, Dylan. I promise it's not something I normally do.'

'You don't have to explain yourself, it's your flat. I didn't realise you were dating someone.'

She puts her head in her hands. 'I'm not exactly dating him.'

I didn't think she was, but better to assume that and be wrong than the other way around. 'Oh.'

She gets up with a loud scrape of her chair. 'Would you like some breakfast?'

'Sure.'

'French toast?'

I nod, and she busies herself gathering the butter, eggs, and bread.

'Is everythings alright, Rach? I know...um...what happened last night isn't like you.'

She sighs. 'I saw Jason at the club?'

'Shit, it wasn't him, was it?' I blurt.

'God no! I'd never go back there. He didn't even notice me—he was too busy with his new woman.'