The rain spattered across the side window of the cab, driven at the glass by a bitterly cold north-easterly wind. Her legs were cold and wet from the wait at the taxi rank, even the arms of her new acquaintance had failed to keep the cold at bay.
She peered through the window, the water running down the pane distorting the already twisted world outside into a scene that Dali would have appreciated. They were passing through the red light district, girls no older than herself, and some much younger, plied their trade in short skirts and dangerously high heels. She noticed with interest that one girl wore a jacket identical to one she had almost bought a week before.
She pitied them and simultaneously felt repulsed by them. Letting men do that to them for money. Eww! She sank back into his arms and let the taxi carry them to her flat.
The four of them fell out of the taxi onto the pavement outside her front door. After a short altercation about the fare, which was resolved when they all realised they were too drunk to read the taximeter properly, they paid the driver and made their way inside quietly. As quietly as it is possible for four drunken revellers to do anything. They all followed her through the communal hallway and up the first flight of stairs to Candice’s flat.
Inside Candice dug out cans of lager, deciding to hold back the vodka until later, and distributed them to her guests. Ian and Dawn had been together for a while, she had known Dawn since they both started school together. Ian had always been around but was a couple of years older than them both and hadn’t really figured in either of their lives until he started taking Dawn out about six months previously.
Candice’s boyfriend had been introduced to her by Ian. Was he her boyfriend? she thought. When does he become a boyfriend instead of just a series of dates? She decided a third date meant boyfriend, so not a boyfriend yet then. He was called Tom, though she kept calling him Tim. Tim was two, no three boyfriends back and although she’d laughed it off so far she told herself to be careful so as not to piss him off. She had seen what he could do when someone pissed him off. A bouncer had tried to throw him out of a pub on their first date, Tom pushed him down a flight of stairs. They had managed to dart down an alley before the police had arrived and escaped a night in the cells.
Candice turned up the music as loud as she dared and settled down on the sofa with Tom. The Christmas lights were still up and would be well into the new year, they illuminated the room just enough to see by. Tom pulled a pouch of tobacco from his jacket and from within it produced a pack of large cigarette papers and a slab of something brown and resinous.
From the other jacket pocket he produced his beloved Zippo lighter and warmed one end of the brown slab before crumbling it liberally into one of the papers and adding a lean sprinkling of tobacco. He rolled the joint, licked the paper with a glistening tongue and tapped a roach into the end.
Tom passed Candice the joint and lit it for her. She drew the first papery smoke from it as the twist in the end was consumed and expelled it, then she drew deeply on the joint, holding her breath and passing it to Dawn.
The joint did the rounds a couple more times, and was followed by two or was it three more. The bottle of Vodka from under the sink in the kitchen appeared, though Candice couldn’t remember having retrieved it.
Time slipped by like an eel, dark and slippery. Candice was shocked to hear a firework detonate outside and looked at her mobile phone. “It’s not twelve yet!”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Exclaimed Ian. The explosion had made him start, jolting a hot piece of resin from the end of the joint and allowing it to sear its way through his shirt and into the soft, sensitive skin of his stomach.
“Stupid fuckers are early.” Said Tom, his voice slow and deliberate, the sentence terminated by a wide grin that showed no signs of ending even after several seconds.
Minutes later it was twelve and with the television showing the revellers in Edinburgh, London and numerous other places across the UK cheering in the new year. They all broke into the traditionally garbled rendition of Auld Lang Syne.
It ended in a kiss between the girls and their respective partners, which developed into a face-eating competition. Dawn rolled onto the floor with Ian on top of her. Her hands pulling at her knickers until they were removed. Ian’s hands groped her breasts through her thin top.
Candice and Tom rolled on the sofa. His hard cock pressed into her leg through his jeans. She was wet, her pussy yearning to be filled by someone, something, anything. His strong hands pushed up her pink lycra top to expose her boobs and erect nipples. His mouth descended on them, sucking and nibbling like a starving man.
She rubbed herself on his leg, clitoris tingling from the sensation of wet silk on denim. She pushed him away and reached down to release the cock that she needed so badly. The sounds of Ian and Dawn cavorting on the carpet made her want it even more, now, hard and fast.
Tom managed to slide his trousers to his shins before Candice was pulling his cock towards her pussy. Her short skirt was rolled up to her waist, panties pulled to one side. Tom mumbled “Turn over”. She complied and felt his hard phallus slide clumsily between her butt cheeks and press against the dry opening of her ass.
“Ow!” She complained.
Tom tried again and this time entered her pussy, a few strokes and he was fully inside her, her buttocks pressing against the base of his cock.
Candice heard Dawn moaning. Candice had heard her cum before and wasn’t surprised to hear Ian grunt and shoot his load a moment later.
Tom took a little longer. Candice had cum, but Tom seemed to be taking forever and now she was becoming dry, her left labia seemed to be abrading against the skin of his cock. “Ah! Ah!” she shrieked in time with his thrusts. Tom took this as another orgasm and carried on. It was a merciful release from the increasing pain when he came a couple of minutes later.
He slumped onto her back, his weight pressing her into the nicotine impregnated velour of the sofa. He whispered something that might have been “That was fucking great” before crawling off her and struggling to pull up his trousers.
Candice lay motionless until the stinging sensation caused by his semen running out of her and contacting her sore labia forced her to go make her way to the bathroom.
They all drank and smoked into the small hours before drifting into unconsciousness.
Candice woke in Tom’s arms. Her waking dream was of a shopping trip with the girl she had seen the night before through the taxi window. They were shopping for clothes. The girl was advising her about “What the punters like”.
Tom farted and rolled onto his back where he began to snore. The unexplained vomit stain on his shirt stank almost as bad as his breath. She pushed his inert form away from her.
A tear welled in Candice’s eye.