‘Oh crap,’ he said. ‘I’d forgotten about that. Then maybe I’ll stay here and do a doctorate or something.’
‘The coward’s way out, mate,’ said David, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘A man gets out there and makes his own destiny.’
‘My destiny is on the dance floor.’
The crowds were much thicker now, as they made their way towards the raised dance floor. There were bands due on later, but in the meantime, some DJ was spinning cheesy pop.
‘I love this one,’ shouted Karen over the boom of the bass.
Max was a surprisingly good dancer, shaking his hips and twirling her with ironic glee. She found herself chuckling, then laughing out loud at his antics.
‘I’m the king of the swingers,’ he sang into her ear, ‘the jungle VIP.’ For an uptight snob, he could be a real laugh.
After three songs, she waved her hands in surrender.
‘I’m exhausted,’ she laughed. ‘Let’s go get a drink.’
Max linked his arm with hers and pushed out of the heaving throng. ‘The queue at the bar’s crazy. I know where we can get one more easily.’
He led her down a series of cloisters, then pushed open a wooden door. ‘In here,’ he whispered. Karen paused, but he opened his jacket and produced a silver flask. ‘I keep a very good cellar,’ he said. Shrugging, Karen followed him inside and he shut the door.
She swigged from the flask, wincing at the sickly sharp taste.
‘Napoleon 1894,’ said Max with a wink. ‘Stole a case from my father’s stash last Christmas, not that the old duffer will notice the difference.’
He moved in close, pushing her into the corner.
‘Max,’ she began, but he smothered her protests with a kiss. His hands were everywhere, but primarily on her breasts and arse. Karen felt fleetingly grateful for Juliet’s long gown, which at least meant he couldn’t easily get his hands up her skirt.
‘Max, no!’ she said, wrestling her way out of the corner and pushing firmly against his chest, but he just bounced back like an eager puppy.
‘No what?’ he mumbled into her shoulder. ‘No, wait until I unzip this dress, or no, let’s find a room to do this?’
It was like trying to fight a randy octopus.
‘No, as in get the fuck off me, Max!’
He finally stepped back, a frown on his face. ‘No?’ he said incredulously. ‘You’re joking, right?’
‘Deadly serious,’ said Karen.
‘You’re turning me down? Christ!’
If it hadn’t all been so creepy, Karen might actually have laughed. ‘Just because we came here together doesn’t mean I’m going to shag you, Max.’
‘Oh no? And what did you think the deal was exactly? You’re quite happy to take the free entry and the free drinks and the golden ticket to the high life, but you’re not prepared to give anything in return, is that it?’
‘I’m not a piece of meat you can just buy, you arrogant shit.’
He stepped forward, backing her into the corner again. ‘Oh no? And is what’s in here so very precious?’ he snarled, pushing his hand between her legs. ‘Don’t make me laugh, you fucking whore.’
Karen had just enough room to swing her elbow out, jabbing Max in the solar plexus; he let out a surprised ‘Oof’ and bent in two, slipping down the wall. She didn’t wait to see if he was still breathing; she rather hoped he wasn’t. Wrenching the door open, she ran out, instinctively moving away from the noise of the main party, wanting to put as much space between herself and that little shit as possible. How could he? Did he really think she would just offer herself up to him as payment for his stupid ticket? Was that honestly how he thought people behaved?
She turned a corner, then another, going deeper into the college grounds. It was quiet here, just the throb of bass from the disco and the odd peal of high-pitched laughter. She leaned against a wall, pressing her hands hard against her lips, trying to stop herself from shaking. Was that all they thought she was: a slag? A whore? She closed her eyes and remembered the way the girls at the cocktail party had looked at her. Like she was unclean.
Christ. She sucked in air through her nose and blew it out, trying to calm herself. It was barely nine o’clock and already she wanted to go home, but Amy would be tied up for hours yet. She thought of all those braying pissed-up bitches judging her, all those red-cheeked public school boys drooling, expecting her to play her role, to know her place. She couldn’t stay here, no way. Maybe she could find a quiet café, sit it out for a few hours, then come back to meet Amy.
She made her way back towards the entrance, the velvet rope abandoned now, only a solitary security guard manning the gate, who assured her that he’d let her back in later. Feeling sordid and slightly cowardly, trying not to increase her pace, she walked away, back under the Bridge of Sighs. She didn’t really have anywhere to go, but was heading vaguely in the direction of Amy’s student house. She hadn’t seen Pog at the ball; maybe he’d still be there?