Trapped, Trained and Twisted Pt. 01

Chapter One: A Celebration.

The Royal George pub was becoming packed as the clock ticked past eleven fifteen. I had just turned twenty one a couple of weeks ago but tonight we were celebrating the twenty-first birthday of my best friend. Dakota and I had been close for a couple of years and we always had fun together despite the vast differences in our personalities. She was a beautiful flirty extrovert with a toned body, enviably large breasts and long wavy blonde hair who was spoiled rotten by her wealthy father. She was always popular and knew just how to tease and get the attention of any guy who dared to glance in her direction. As was usually the case, she had two gorgeous guys competing for her attention but whether either of them would actually end the night between her tanned legs was a question that only Dakota could answer.

I’ve been told many times that I’m very attractive despite being an introvert who prefers the corner to the spotlight; it was never something I took seriously. I always figured people were just complimenting me to be polite or because they were desperate to have sex and I was the closest available option. Don’t get me wrong, I always took care to put myself together properly, ensuring that my long dark hair looked good and my makeup was flawless. As such, it’s likely that my perspective on the matter was an issue of self confidence rather than a reality of how striking others found me.

Like my best friend, I too have a slim body as I spend an inordinate amount of time running, doing yoga and being active in general but Dakota always made me a little self conscious about my boobs given that mine were only 32b. She stood tall at five foot eight while I on the other hand was a mere five foot two and just under a hundred pounds. A scrawny little thing as one disgruntled boyfriend described me just before breaking it off in favor of a tall redhead with abundant cleavage.

As I finished off the rum and coke that I had been nursing with disinterest all evening, I felt Dakota poke the soft skin of my upper arm with two of her fingers to get my attention. She pointed at a slightly overweight fellow with thick glasses, clown-like curly orange hair and a cartoonish orange mustache and beard who was standing by himself at the end of the bar. “I think he likes you Kristin,” she said teasingly. “He’s been checking you out all night. Maybe he can be your boyfriend.”

I rolled my crystal blue eyes and brushed a strand of my long black brown hair from my shapely face. “Don’t be a bitch Dakota,” I replied. “He might be a really nice guy for all you know.”

“Then why don’t you invite him over? Better yet I’ll do it for you.”

She started to raise her small perfectly manicured hand to wave at the creepy looking bar patron and I moved quickly to bat it down hard, her bright red fingernails smacking into the table in front of us. “He’s not my type” I glared at her.

“See, you’re just as stuck up as me, but at least I’m honest about it.”

“Yeah, whatever Dakota,” I shot back, not in the mood for her games. “Why don’t you go back to the Brad Pitt twins over there?” A suggestion that she took up surprisingly quickly; perhaps indicating a strong desire to escape from the awkward turn our conversation had taken.

I began to stir the half melted ice cubes in my glass with one slim finger as I quietly observed the goings on in the crowded venue. One of Dakota’s suitors looked like a personal trainer and displayed numerous tattoos including one of a beautiful mermaid on his upper arm and was gradually edging closer to her, clearly trying to make his move. Suddenly I felt a warm hand on the silky skin of my exposed shoulder blade. I quickly spun around to find the creepy guy from the bar standing next to me holding two glasses which looked suspiciously identical to the drink I had just completed. The nervous shaking of his hands caused the bubbly brown liquid to slosh about within the confines of their translucent containers as he hesitantly cleared his throat before speaking. “Hi, you’re pretty,” was all he could muster in a weak, almost goofy sounding voice.

“Um, thanks,” I said with a nod and turned my gaze back to Dakota, hoping he would get the hint and magically disappear. No such luck.

“I hope you don’t mind, I saw that your glass was empty and I asked the bartender what you were drinking so I brought you another one.”

I spun back around in my seat to find him holding a glass out for me. He looked kind of sad and pathetic, like a lost puppy that had been kicked in the head one too many times. Dakota surely would have told him to go fuck himself but I was never that kind of girl. I felt bad for him so I accepted his drink. “Thanks, that was nice of you.”

We raised our glasses in a half hearted toast and he started talking about something that I didn’t quite catch. Between the raucous noise in the bar, his meek voice and the fact that I frankly didn’t care one bit about anything he had to say, I only picked up about one out of every three words. I took small sips of my drink and gave a nod and the occasional smile of my perfect white teeth while simultaneously attempting to avoid eye contact lest I send the wrong message that I might actually be interested in him.

The interaction went on far longer than I would have liked. He would babble on about computers or his mother or other nonsense that seemed stereotypical for a person matching his de***********ion. I caught him staring at the fraudulent display of cleavage created by my push up bra or at the smooth toned legs that were visible from the mid thigh hem of the fashionable black leather skirt to the black high heel sandals that encased my delicate feet.