Sure, she was grinning as if having the time of her life, throwing flirty bedroom eyes at the men dancing with her as if she hadn’t a care in the world. And once again, I felt conflicted over this observation. A fact I’d had conflicting feelings about at the time. I’d seen their cheesy engagement photo spread all over social media six months ago and had pegged the guy a class A douchebag at first sight. She was engaged to some big-deal society schmuck. A fact that came back to me in a blinding flash when she flung her arm up in the air and the enormous rock on her finger caught the flare of the strobe light.

I’d checked up on her over the years and knew that she’d completed medical school and was now finishing her residency at UCSF Hospital. I told myself I had only pure intentions this time. I rationalized that I just wanted to confirm it was really her, to see her up close … make certain she was okay and that she had a safe ride home. Two of them were putting their hands on her. Her girlfriends appeared equally inebriated. Maybe that’s what made her so attractive? Or maybe I was just a masochist. More times than was probably healthy given the fact she was strictly off-limits. Yet she still displayed an enviable natural rhythm out on the dance floor-with that barely clothed, to-die-for body that I had found myself jerking off to in memory on more than one occasion over the past ten years. I nodded in acknowledgement, but my feet were rooted to the cement floor of the club, my eyes transfixed by the gyrating blonde, as I tried to determine if I was seeing things.

Just Like Animals by Hettie Ivers