She leaned in close to the mirror and checked her painted face for imperfections. Her hands shook as she smoothed her hair and scrutinised her reflection one last time. White was actually a good colour on her.
- When she had replied to the ad in the lonely hearts column, it had been a bit of fun. She was sick of being called boring, and it had been a while since she'd had a date on a Saturday night.
- It had started with a nice meal in a swanky restaurant, and too much wine. He had been a perfect gentleman, and she liked him a lot. They talked about their families, their jobs, and their favourite music. The first time he reached out and touched her hand, she felt a delicious tingle of excitement.
- Then he invited her to the party. He had told her that was where the real fun would be, so she had climbed into the taxi without a second thought. Probably without even a first.
- As they approached the front door of the imposing Victorian house, he draped his arm around her shoulders and told her how much he liked her. He had leaned in close and kissed her, tenderly and passionately. Then he asked her if she was ready to have some fun.
- When he opened the door, the penny dropped. Everywhere she looked, there was naked flesh, tangled limbs, groups of people intertwined with one another. Dotted here and there were women in white togas, lounging on sofas, smiling and beckoning.
- Before she knew what was happening, a toga had been thrust into her hand and her date had faded into the mass. She felt strong hands on her hips, hot breath on her neck. She twisted around to look at the stranger whose fingers had slipped under her clothes.
- “You can change through there,” he had whispered into her hair as she felt a second pair of hands on her and realised that her date had returned.
- She looked at the door he had indicated, and then back at the door she had entered through. Two options. One decision. She had made her choice.
