Drinking in Homes with Boys

The house was dark, music sufficiently evil and bottles and people clinking. No one sicking yet. This was potluck grind night. So all had to bring their own drinks and nibbles; pool and pick what they could. The Indian guys hid what theyd bought while induging gleefully in the partiness. Ignatz stayed away assidiously from this breed even though all of the specimens in attendance here fit the bill of the singularly superior arty Indian male she continued to covet since middleschool. But with a nation of artistically white girls in attendance the indian boys had fantasized about all their life, she didnt think of her chances.

Ignatz held her two 1-litre beer bottles in each hand. She had also bought a keg of triple distilled vodka but never had a taste for it so left it at the trestle for the bots who had the metal for meth. In 15 minutes, Iggie noticed she was the only one standing gawking in the music and darkness. Everything else was doing something: sofas bouncing, bottles rolling, sexoids pawing at do or dare, girl scuffing boy, man's eyes transfixed on active shirt puppies he would hold very soon. And Iggie mooning at it all, standing up drinking out of her bottle. She thought:
3 green botles standing on the wall
One named Peter, one named Paul ...
Iggie considered sitting against the wall like the loser at every party; usually every party had one but the established routine of Iggy's karma meant that the moment she had settled into her place on the wall, everyone and the music would stop, lights come on and theyd look at her with her swimmimg happy features looking back. So Ignatz walked straight to the sofa and wedged herself into the edge, a bottle in either hand. After a mouthful and head lolling from the arm of the sofa, she twisted her head to the side to spy resident activity: next to her a pale hominid with his left hand nestled comfortable under a girl's butt that belonged to the man on the other side of her. 2 more gulpfuls. Iggy's own butt discouraged such acqaintance. It reeked divinity, a kind of otherworldly glow. Halo on the butt. Maybe thats what came from being named after the patron saint of virginity.

Leaning over the sette arm she looked overboard outward, hetro matches were so much more animated and exciting to watch, the real thing; like what is to what. On a sofa-bed that was still a sofa, and efficiently populated a girl had straddled her own or another's indifferent male. He held her with the goodwill for a neighbour's 2-year old. She settled her fine behind on his knees and they exchanged eyes, then they looked and looked and she moved forward at an inch a second till her bust was upon him.

Then Ignatz recoiled sharply sideways, her forelimbs held up short like a T-rex; something sharp had poked her in the intercostals between the 6th and 7th ribs on her left. She let out a sound like: BEeyaahhaw. As she swung, the bottle in her right hand had swung firmly into paleface's chest with a bony knock. Ouch. While Iggy looked on mortified, paleface looked blank for a second before slapping both his hands to his chest and howling loudly. Iggy tried to shut him up rubbing his face but to see that the bottles would not be out of supervision, she first pushed the 2 bottles to stand between his locked thighs, before she resumed her effort to muzzle him. There was no let-up, he wailed like a siren and the music seemed to be doing the same. Instinctively, Iggy looked around frantically to see if anyone had noticed. None. Thanks Mama! This put Iggy at ease and she began to observe paleface's dramatics detachedly. Was he paining truly? This time Iggy clamped his mouth with both hands. For more mechanical efficiency in clamping both nose and mouth at once, Iggy stood up half-way over him on the sofa, legs on either side of paleface cupping his snout. This worked, there was not a sound as he looked on with extreme meerkat eyes at towering Ignatz.

But Iggy seemed to have forgetten his hands that had till then been plastered to his chest; they popped out like an industrial spring. In the space of a blink she began moving back in freefall, hallowed butt and lower back hit the erect beertowers between his legs, throwing up her legs in the greatest acrobatic move of her life, her head knocked the floor and she looked at the ceiling in peace. Hands stretched wide, she lay at paleface's feet Christ-like while he held up his arms significantly in an expression of 'What the' and 'shit?' while the 2 bottles stood in singular magnificence between his thighs.
This pleased her before blank.