When I had just turned 18, a friend of mine lied about a guy I liked. She told me she had seen him kissing someone else whilst he was courting me. By courting I mean he had just started to do things like single me out of the group and pair up with me, touch my face, tell me I was sweet, offer to drive me home and kiss me ever so gently on the doorstep. He was a sweetheart. I knew he was working up to asking me out on a date. I fully intended on accepting. Then my friend, Karen, told me that she had seen him kissing another girl.
 
So when he asked me out, I said no. He was hurt, I could see it, but I didn't care. I had already dated one cheater. I did not want to date another. It took him a couple of weeks of being ignored by me in the group before he finally asked what the hell was going on. I told him that Karen had seen him with another girl. He told me she was nuts. He hardly knew the girl he was accused of kissing. He was pissy with me and pissy with her and when I asked her if she was sure that he was with someone else, she admitted she had lied, she didn't want me to date him. She felt he was beneath me.
 
I was livid and did one of the things I am least proud of in my life. I deliberately went after the guy she had liked for years. I threw everything I had at Simon. I flirted, was attentive, played up to him, made him feel like no one else mattered. We went on three dates over two weeks, just enough to make Karen realise that I could have him if I wanted him, then I dumped him. It was ruthless. It was bitchy. Even though now I look back at it and think my god how could I do that, at the time, it felt so powerfully good.
 
I don't for a moment think that I had any excuse, any real reason to play with peoples feelings like that. It was quite disgusting of me. It also backfired on me completely. Simon told Karen that he had fucked me and dumped me, a story she believes to this day. They are married and have a son. She refuses to speak to me because I will not admit to fucking him. I didn't. I wouldn't. I didn't care enough about him to put out. I never even gave him an orgasm. He was just too sleazy for me.
 
About a year ago, I was out one night with Emma. Mac was away on business. Emma and I were looking for trouble and out to have fun. We bumped into Simon and Karen at a little place we sometimes go to for a few quiet drinks before the real fun starts. They were with a group of people that I went to high school with, all married, with children, houses, dogs, family cars, and such. I had the feeling they were looking at me and thinking 'poor girl, doesn't know what she is missing out on, still running around with friends and talking about her boyfriend who is out of town.' I know I was thinking, 'my god, one day I am going to grow up too?' It was quite weird. I felt so young and yet these people were my age. Some of them had married before I had even finished school. Their lives were so completely different to mine.
 
After an hour of 'does anyone still see so and so?' and 'what profession did you say you were in?' and 'oh I have pictures of my kids in my wallet too!' I announced that Emma and I were heading off to the nearest nightclub. Some of them thought it was a brilliant idea and decided to come along. Karen said that Simon and she should get home but Simon suggested she go home without him. It did not go down well. Simon and Karen both came to the club.
 
It was awful. His hands were everywhere I was and I couldn't escape them. He kept brushing against my breast, putting his hand on my ass, trying to get under my skirt in the darkness. I pushed him away and moved. A few minutes later he was next to me again. I didn't want to make a scene, not when I knew everyone was already thinking I was not exactly proper to be unmarried at the ripe old age of almost 26.
 
In the end I grabbed Emma and made my way onto the dance floor with her. I was shouting in her ear that I needed to get away from Simon and she was nodding in understanding when suddenly Simon was there. He got between Emma and I and just started dancing with me. Emma was trying to push him away and I just shook my head at him and started to walk away. He patted me on the ass. I turned and slapped him hard across the face. He didn't even balk. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to him.
 
'I know you want it,' he said. 'I can tell Karen I got a call from work and spend the night at your place. I know how to treat a slut like you.'
 
I think what scared me the most is that he truly believed that I wanted him to do this. He truly believed that I wanted to be treated this way, by him. I was stunned, shocked, horrified. Emma was standing beside me unsure what to do. His fingers were digging painfully into my arm.
 
'Let go of me,' I screamed into his face. 'If you lay one more finger on me at all, even accidentally, I will scream so long and so loud that everyone will pay attention to me.' I knew no one could hear me above the music, but I was on the verge of freaking right out.
 
He let me go.
 
'It doesn't matter,' he said. 'She would never believe you, she thinks you are a lying cunt.' He walked away.
 
Emma and I went to the ladies room and I cried on her shoulder, mainly because a part of me knew he was right. He could hound me all night, touch me all over and at the end of it all, those people would believe that it was my fault somehow. He was married, with a young son, I was a single tart on the make, of course he may have had his head turned for a moment. It's understandable when a girl throws herself at you.
 
Emma slapped me around with a well timed 'do you really care what they think?' and I cleaned myself up and went back out there to face him again. If he touched me I would scream, I really had meant that. I just couldn't stand the thought of his hands on me again.
 
He never did. Not a single touch, not even a look, as far as he was concerned I no longer existed and I felt good knowing that he believed me when I told him I would scream and it felt good knowing that he was not so sure of his position to risk it again. I felt like I had taken the power away from him. After another 30 minutes or so, Simon and Karen left. Neither of them said goodbye to me. I was relieved.
 
Emma and I had a ball for the rest of the night, teaching the other wives how to bump and grind, pressing up against them on the dance floor while their husbands looked on. Women can get away with those sorts of things with other women on dance floors. It's always lots of sweaty, sticky, alcohol-induced-loss-of-inhibitions fun. I have a feeling more than one of the husbands got lucky that night.
 
When Mac got home from His trip, I told Him what had happened and He never really said much about it, though I got the feeling that if we ever ran into Simon, Mac would be hard pressed not to politely smack him in the mouth. Not because he tried to pick me up, Mac always says that He couldn't get mad at another guy for trying what He Himself would do, but because Simon's method left me feeling dirty and left bruises on my arm.
 
As far as Mac is concerned, there is no excuse for that.