The Reviewers discussion

The Fancy Dress party

“You’re sure about this?” asked Laura, staring at her reflection, twisting this way and that, checking herself from the back with the aid of a handbag mirror.

“Of course,” said Martin, checking her from the back with rising interest.

“You’re sure,” said Laura, throwing him a hard look.

“Yes,” said Martin.

“Only it doesn’t say so on the invitation,”

“I checked,” said Martin, making adjustments to his own clothes, “I asked Aaron and he confirmed it.”

“When did you ask him?”

“I dunno,” said Martin, “a week ago.”

“Should you check again?” pressed Laura.

“No,” said Martin.

“Why not?” asked Laura.

“Because,” said Martin.

“Because what?” said Laura.

“Because I’ll look stupid,” said Martin.

“Well, we’ll look bloody stupid turning up dressed like this, if it isn’t fancy dress,” she snapped.

“Well it is,” said Martin.

Laura stared at him, “and it’s bondage?”

“Yes.” He sighed out loudly. “Oh come on, Laura…I
said, I checked.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” said Martin, “now let’s go.”

Laura stood still for a few seconds then reached down and grabbed her coat.

“Why are you taking that?” asked Martin.

“Because,” said Laura.

“Because what?”

“Well,” said Laura, “just in case.”

“In case of what?” pressed Martin, “we’re in the car? It’s the middle of bloody summer.”

“I know,” said Laura.

“You don’t trust me, do you?”

“Yes I do,” said Laura.

“No you don’t,” said Martin, “that’s why you’re taking
a bloody coat.”

“No it’s not,” said Laura, quickly, “supposing we break down or something.”

“Break down?” questioned Martin, “Break down? That’s a brand new Golf out there, we won’t break down.”

“Well, isn’t it illegal or something to go out dressed like this?”

“Illegal?” said Martin.

“Martin,” said Laura, “Stop ogling and think - black leather boobless basque, matching leather thong, thigh high leather stiletto boots with a dog collar and lead. Might I draw your attention to your own get-up, a fetching simulated leather zip up mask and posing pouch, also zip up. If we get stopped by the police for any reason, what do you think their response will be?”

“Point taken,” said Martin, “coats it is, now let’s go.”

Having made the safety of the car without being spotted by a neighbour they drove out of their estate, down the busy high street then off onto the motorway for a 40 mile drive to a country estate, smack bang in the middle of nowhere. The journey was tense; Laura still not convinced and Martin extremely uncomfortable – the zip on the pouch would not stay where he put it. When they arrived Martin drove right up to the columned entrance only to have to turn back and park near the gates. There were already over thirty cars lining the drive, still others scattered about the estate. Laura was not best pleased to walk the length of the drive in six-inch heels but the size of the house in front of her distracted her from much of the pain.

“Wow,” said Laura, “this place is huge; your boss must be worth a fortune.”

“He is,” said Martin, “you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Wow,” repeated Laura as they made their way under the porticoes to the main door.

The door was open “Take your coat madam?” said the girl on entrance duty.

“Oh, thank you,” Laura murmured, unbuttoning and passing it across. She was so awestruck by the magnificent stairway and the ornate décor of the hallway that the girl’s shocked expression escaped her notice. Martin was too busy talking about his rich and powerful boss to acknowledge anything.

They made their way slowly into the dining room where most of the guests had gathered, attention still drawn to the décor, eyes on the highly decorated ceiling.

Over by the drinks table Aaron couldn’t resist a smirk, he loved a practical joke and was sure that deep down his dad would see the funny side. Laura was the first to notice the sudden silence; she turned her attention from the ceiling, ‘shit.’ Shocked looks of horror on every face; she grabbed Martin’s wrist with one hand and covered her breasts with the other.

“Hellooo,” said a Leslie Phillips type voice from the crowd.

“What?” said Martin as he too turned his attention to the room, “Shit!”

He froze in situ, and then Laura pulled away from him and ran into the hallway, grabbed both of their coats from the still staring maid, and ran towards the car shrieking imprecations. She stumbled down the driveway, cursing Martin all the way, and had the keys in the ignition and the car careering out of the gates before Martin had time to respond.

“Martin,” called Aaron, “so pleased you could make it old boy.”

Martin just stared ahead of him, face fuchsia pink with rage and humiliation.

Aaron rushed over and dragged him through the throng of guests over to the fire place where his father was engrossed, his back to the new entrants, entertaining senior partners from the company. “Dad,” he cried, “Martin’s arrived, but his girlfriend’s gone, I’m afraid.”

Aaron’s father turned, a welcoming smile pasted on his face and then he froze, his jaw dropped and his cigar fell to the floor, his colleagues did likewise.

“Seems like Marty thought it was fancy dress,” said Aaron, “bondage, by the looks of it.”

Aaron’s father leaned his head back, looking literally down his nose, and said, “Is this your doing, Aaron?”

“Nothing to do with me, father,” said Aaron.

Martin shot him a deadly glance.

“Martin, why are you dressed in…in…in…?” Aaron’s father was struggling.

Martin fixed Aaron with an I’ll get you later for this you bastard stare and then said, “erm, I don’t know Mr. Knight, I guess I must’ve got the wrong idea from someone.”

“Ah,” said Mr. Knight, “well of course, erm…would you like….erm..”

“I think I should probably go.”

“No!” said Aaron, “you can’t go yet, the night is still young and where did the lovely Laura go?”

“Laura?” said Martin looking round.

“Wasn’t that her I saw disappearing out the doorway just now?” said Aaron.

“Oh my god,” said Martin, “I’ve gotta go.”

“Probably a good idea,” said Mr. Knight, “I’m sure Aaron will see you out.”

“Of course father, that is, if you really think you should leave now, Marty,” said Aaron.

“Yes!” snapped Martin, “er, yes I do Aaron; I think it would be best.”

“Probably so,” said Mr. Knight, his colleagues nodded their agreement and Martin smiled nervously.

They slowly made their way past gawping faces into the hallway and towards the door. Martin suddenly remembered his coat. The girl told him that the young lady he had arrived with had just left taking both coats with her. Martin ran outside straining to see the gates. “She’s taken my Golf” he wailed, “my new GTi …Shit!”

“Don’t worry, Marty,” said Aaron, “I’ll give you a lift, walk this way.”

“Give me a lift!” snapped Martin, “give me a lift, you fuckin’ bastard, you’ve just fucked up my relationship with Laura, yet again and you’ve screwed up my career with Knight and Bloom.”

“No, I haven’t,” said Aaron, “Dad’ll see the funny side later, and in fact you’ll probably get a pay rise and promotion out of it.”

“What about Laura?” demanded Martin, “you can’t fix that, can you, you bastard.”

“Oh, she’ll come round,” said Aaron.

“No she fuckin’ won’t,” said Martin, “not after that nudist thing.”

“The nudist thing,” said Aaron, laughing hysterically, “God, I forgot about that.”

“Well, you would, wouldn’t you, why do I ever listen to you?”

He stopped short, staring, refusing to believe his eyes as Aaron threw his leg over his Harley Iron 883 and turned the key in the ignition; it started up with a terrifying, throaty roar.

“Quick hop on,” said Aaron, tossing Martin a helmet.

“I’m not getting on that,” said Martin.

“You’ll have to,” said Aaron, “I left the car at home. Don’t be a wimp.”

“I’m not getting on that fucking thing,” shouted Martin. “I fall off; I’ll be cut to ribbons.”

“Well, don’t fall off, then,” said Aaron, “come on, if you’re quick we might catch Laura. New driver, slow driver, and then you can switch.”

Martin thought about it for a second. He had no money because his wallet was in his coat so he couldn’t get a cab and he couldn’t go back into the party, not dressed like this and Laura was a slow driver, besides she should’ve realized by now that she’d left him behind, perhaps she’d stopped and was waiting for him down the road, yes that’s probably what she’d done.

“Okay, but go carefully,” he said climbing on, gingerly.

Aaron revved the bike, did a wheelie with Martin hanging desperately on the back, screaming for all he was worth, then shot off down the drive, hit the road at 60 mph and was doing 90 mph as they sped past Martin’s parked Golf. Laura stared open mouthed as they disappeared into the darkness.

Martin had almost given up hope of surviving the night when they reached the town centre and Aaron reduced his speed to a crawl. The High St was full of kids falling out of the pubs, reeling about, frolicking and running around. They spotted Martin and started wolf whistling and cat-calling.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Aaron?” screeched Martin, shoving his friend in the back.

“Speed limit Marty,” said Aaron.

“Fuck the speed limit,” said Martin, “just get me the fuck out of here.”

“Can’t ignore the speed limit, old boy,” said Aaron, “gotta look after the old license, you know.”

“You bastard…oh god,” wailed Martin.