I nodded my long brown hair over my shoulder and took another sip of my whiskey. The carolers kept singing whilst the snow sprinkled the earth outside... I couldn’t believe they were still going for it after I showed no intention of answering the door. Cranking the volume of the stereo up louder, I heard the gate smash against the brick wall outside and saw the shadows move down the garden to the street. I felt bad but there was no way, I was opening the door piss drunk, dressed like I am and in. Well, nearly alone, except for the hulking dark shape that wanes and waxes in my peripheral vision as the crowd moves to the beat.Surrounded by their bodies, it's almost impossible to move. If not for the quick glimpse earlier, I wouldn't have even known whose hands were now roaming my body with possessive familiarity.Would that have made a difference? Would I have stopped the hands if they had seemed less familiar, more unknown? A glimpse of a man in the obscurity of a dance club is hardly. More

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