by Karen Philpott
Barefoot, I run from the warmth of the bonfire party. I do love my clumpy, platform boots, but I also love to feel the freedom without them. I glance over my shoulder as I leave my family and reach the edge of the woods; I know Spike will follow me. How could he not?
From the corner of my eye I see the moonlight reflecting off a white rock and I quickly shrug off my biker jacket, flinging it down on to it, so Spike will know which way I’ve gone this time.
Behind me now in the distance, the fireworks electrify the air with their sparking and fizzing. As I make my way to ‘our place’ the brambles snap at my leather mini-skirt and fishnet leggings, but I laugh, out loud. I don’t care as Spike will soon take them all off me, anyway.
I shiver, deliciously, but then find myself blushing. Like a little girl, I’ve only allowed him to kiss me and feel me up so far, and not gone all the way.
It is a bit creepy in the dark, so I stop to get my bearings. The shadows begin to make sense and I move on more easily.
If I allow him to make me a woman tonight, we will be together forever, he told me. And, when I’m sixteen, he will leave his wife. And Spike will marry me.