Free Experiment in Terror 05.6 The Dex-Files by Karina Halle

like how he acted like he knew everything and I didn’t like the way he was trying to win Perry over. He would deny it, but I knew exactly what the fucker was trying to do to me. And Perry was too innocent, her self-esteem too ravaged to pick up on it.
    To cement my point, Dire Straits came on and after Perry proclaimed her sudden (and surprising) love for the band, the douchefucker stood up and asked her to dance like he was a Cajun Rhett Butler.
    She agreed, taking his hand with a look that was pretty close to glee, and he led her to the packed dance floor. I looked back at the beer just in case she wanted me to notice what was going on, notice them together. My fingers started picking at the label again. I wouldn’t give them that satisfaction.
    “You care about her a great deal,” Bird said in his ‘I’m an old man’ voice.
    I shot him a look and resumed concentration on the beer, taking respite in the monotonous movements. I didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything to say. It was the truth, that’s all it was.
    “It’s OK, Dex,” he continued. “I would too. But you have to respect each other. You have to move slowly. You are both too much the same.”
    “What does that mean?” I snapped at him. I felt bad, once again I wasn’t in control of my emotions, but Bird’s face was impassive and gave nothing away.
    “You know what it means,” he said and he left it at that. I did know what he meant. That’s what made the whole situation harder.
    We sat in silence for a bit, then he excused himself to go to the bar, promising to bring me a beer. I wanted to stick my fucking head in a pitcher but I needed to take it easy. Drinking never really helped me in the way I thought it did. And those thoughts always came when I was three sheets to the wind.
    I managed to avoid looking in Max and Perry’s direction but that all went fuckaloo whenU2 came on and Perry wasn’t back at her seat with fingers in her ears.
    Instead she was still on the dance floor. Slow dancing. With ginger fucking Elvis. They were dancing close, way too close. Her breasts were crammed up into his chest, he was holding her like he was about to turn her over his knee and spank her six ways from Sunday.
    And she was letting him. She looked like she was enjoying the body pressure as much as he was. I could only imagine the way his chubby must have been grinding against her. Not that I wanted to imagine that. I shuddered, feeling the curious mix of disgust and envy carry through me. Feelings, fuck, I wasn’t used to this.
    I was still making a disgusted face when Bird came back but to his credit he just handed me my beer and didn’t say anything. It was taking all my willpower to peel my eyes away from the couple and concentrate on something else.
    This came in the form of Cheri and Amanda, two MILF’s who had been eyeing me since I sat down. I’m sure they probably went after any guy under 35 who didn’t clean his ears out with his car keys, but I decided to be flattered. I grinned at them and as expected they teetered over to me on tacky plastic heels, smiles broad, breaths rank.
    I didn’t really hear a word they were saying, I was just trying to look handsome and not breathe in through my nose. One of them, Cheri, maybe, took a liking to Bird which he didn’t seem to mind. Bird didn’t strike me as someone who had a wife waiting for him at home, though he could have certainly done better than some old lush with wrinkled cleavage and brown-speckled teeth. I felt like throwing up in my mouth but I played up my virility and asked Amanda, maybe, if she’d help choose songs from the jukebox with me.
    We walked to the box through the sticky crowd and I kept Perry and Max in my peripheral vision. On the outside it looked like I was having fun, on the inside I was paranoid as fuck. I kept fearing that he’d grab her and take her away somewhere dark and private. The thought of him touching her, kissing her, bothered me to no end but