It is not like it is on the movies, but I guess nothing really is. Life isn’t staged as a visual representation of emotions, life is to be lived.
Cerys and I had travelled across London to go to a party in an industrial estate. She had met a guy in a pub who had told her about the party. A beautiful man, looks like that rugby player, but probably a lot smaller, like they look on TV. Cerys wanted to meet the guy again and I was her wallflower.
It was a lovely summer evening. Warm enough not to worry about wearing more than party clothes. I wore a T designed by a friend, a cherub with an AK47, and jeans. Cerys wore a little dress. She was really hot, the little dress was a wonderful combination of colour and sparkle in an abstract pattern based on the nude. The kind of dress that gave the metrosexual an excuse to check out her booty. I carried her heels in my bag. We set out from her flat after nine, I love the way... Read more...