Round and Around

Round and Around
By Scott Wilson
Word Count:566

Sally-Anne woke late, still dead tired after sleeping for ten hours from two in the morning until midday. Her head ached from a savage cocktail of scotch and coke, Black Russians and a handful of some sort of illicit drugs from the bowl on the coffee table at the party she attended. While she was not invited, she always seemed to end up at someone’s party every night, even if she had never met the people before. Yep, that was what everyone said; Sally-Anne, the Party Girl.

Her surroundings looked vaguely familiar; she kind of remembered dancing with a group of hip, young trendsetters on a large, marble tiled floor in the room outside of where she woke up. She pulled the sheet around her naked body and slowly stumbled from the low Futon bed into what must be the main entertainment area. Bodies in various stages of being undressed lay sprawled on the couches, floor and even tables.

Sally-Anne smiled and thought, “these people must have some money.”

The furniture all looked like the latest make and style from prestige designer retailers. No IKEA flat pack furniture for these guys. Hanging from the wall at the opposite side of the room was an enormous, flat screen television set. Sitting in front of the screen was the only, fully clothed, fully sober-looking guy in the place. He was enthralled by the movie playing; or skin flick. It didn’t look like it was any Hollywood blockbuster she had seen, or even any b-grade film. There were naked men and women going for it around a pool, some even at it like rabbits in the water.

Sally-Anne noticed that the pool was the pool outside the large, tinted glass sliding doors. Some of the people were the ones she had walked past moments ago.
The guy turned around and smiled at Sally-Anne.

“You’ll like this part,” he said.

Sally-Anne saw the guy on the couch on the screen, locked in a lover’s embrace in the swimming pool. She could see her naked buttocks pumping backwards and forwards under the water. The guy was looking up at the camera, smiling. Smiling like he was at Sally-Anne now.

“Great,” she thought to herself. “Another sexual escapade that I don’t really remember. I always wanted to have sex in the ocean, or in a pool. Now I have and I don’t even remember it.”

“I think you left your clothes by the pool,” the guy said, pointing out the sliding door to a large glass table.

Sally-Anne walked past him and rummaged through a pile of men’s and women’s clothes. She could not find her own bra, so picked an expensive white lace one the same size as hers. The camera that filmed the action in the pool swiveled around to face her as she dropped the sheet and pulled her clothes on. She gave it the bird then walked around the side of the house to avoid seeing the creep she slept with, apparently, the night before.

On the way out, she noticed a thick, brown wallet on the cobblestone path. It was loaded with fifty dollar bills, condoms and a pile of credit cards. She pocketed a few of the notes, just enough to cover the cost of a cab home, and another night out to forget what she saw on the television.