could imagine him holed up in some grungy New York studio getting high on heroin with his supermodel girlfriend, but not here, bopping with the
trillionaires. But, if her eyes were not deceiving her, the supermodel girlfriend was nowhere to be seen. That was definitely Dan Donahue, and what’s more he was giving her the eye. Snaring a
rock-star boyfriend was something Tara was not about to miss out on. She would just pop to the bathroom to perk herself up a little. And then he would be hers.
As she squeezed past Reza to head towards the bathroom, he grabbed her arm and shouted that he was going to move the party to his yacht in the next half hour or so. ‘Sure’, said
Tara; all she could think of was the task at hand. Finally a cubicle in the female toilets came free and Tara pulled out a small ball of cling film filled with some of the cocaine that darling
Henry had organized for her. Cutting up two fat lines with her credit card, and then adding another smaller one as an afterthought, she rolled up a fifty-euro note and snorted all three.
That’s better, she thought, as she grabbed her clutch bag and set it down in front of the mirror outside. She looked at herself critically. Her heart seemed to jump in her chest with every
beat. Yes, she was stunning, she concluded. She was thin, well bred and well educated – she’d never felt more confident. She took out her concealer and dabbed some under her nostrils
where they had gone red and tingly. Then she added a thick ring of kohl around each eye and shook her head violently to mess up her hair, scrunching it with her fingers. Now she looked like a young
and gorgeous Courtney Love.
Striding into the middle of the dance floor, Tara pressed herself up against Dan, grinding in time to the music. He grabbed her hair with both hands and licked the side of her face as she lifted
a willowy leg and coiled it around his thigh. ‘Come on the boat’, she shouted, struggling to make herself heard above the music. She grabbed his hand and pulled him on to the dimly lit
street and through the central square towards the port, where Reza had already gathered a group. The pair kissed furiously all the way to the boat, then staggered up the gangplank, their passion
only momentarily interrupted by one of the crew instructing them to remove their shoes so as not to ruin the pristine white interior. Tara was oblivious to everyone and everything as she pushed Dan
into the first available cabin and locked the door. By the sultry light of the cabin he looked even paler than before, white, with burning black eyes like something out of Twilight . God he
was sexy. So … dangerous-looking.
Dan threw her backwards on to the bed and leaned back against the wall, watching, leering. She reached into her bag and got out the rest of the cocaine. Not bothering to cut it this time, she
put a little on her forefinger and sniffed it. She held some out for Dan to do the same. He grinned at her, baring his yellow teeth for the first time that evening, and greedily snorted the drug.
Then in one quick movement he pulled off her skimpy dress and frantically undid his flies.
Tara was not wearing a bra; her pert, childlike breasts required no additional support. In their urgency to make it they didn’t even think about foreplay. Pulling aside her lacy knickers,
Dan rammed his cock inside her and thrust away for what seemed like ages. In awe of his rock-star status and desperate to impress, she found she was unable to relax and enjoy herself, and barely
even noticed that he in turn was unable to climax, having probably taken too much coke that evening. Eventually, exhausted, the two lay sprawled on the bed in silence. Tara’s mind was racing,
imagining her future as a rocker’s girlfriend. A hit song dedicated to her perhaps. Matching tattoos. A crazy life on the road in LA and a star on Hollywood Boulevard … Or maybe a
shotgun wedding, her own rock-chick clothing range, and an entire
trillionaires. But, if her eyes were not deceiving her, the supermodel girlfriend was nowhere to be seen. That was definitely Dan Donahue, and what’s more he was giving her the eye. Snaring a
rock-star boyfriend was something Tara was not about to miss out on. She would just pop to the bathroom to perk herself up a little. And then he would be hers.
As she squeezed past Reza to head towards the bathroom, he grabbed her arm and shouted that he was going to move the party to his yacht in the next half hour or so. ‘Sure’, said
Tara; all she could think of was the task at hand. Finally a cubicle in the female toilets came free and Tara pulled out a small ball of cling film filled with some of the cocaine that darling
Henry had organized for her. Cutting up two fat lines with her credit card, and then adding another smaller one as an afterthought, she rolled up a fifty-euro note and snorted all three.
That’s better, she thought, as she grabbed her clutch bag and set it down in front of the mirror outside. She looked at herself critically. Her heart seemed to jump in her chest with every
beat. Yes, she was stunning, she concluded. She was thin, well bred and well educated – she’d never felt more confident. She took out her concealer and dabbed some under her nostrils
where they had gone red and tingly. Then she added a thick ring of kohl around each eye and shook her head violently to mess up her hair, scrunching it with her fingers. Now she looked like a young
and gorgeous Courtney Love.
Striding into the middle of the dance floor, Tara pressed herself up against Dan, grinding in time to the music. He grabbed her hair with both hands and licked the side of her face as she lifted
a willowy leg and coiled it around his thigh. ‘Come on the boat’, she shouted, struggling to make herself heard above the music. She grabbed his hand and pulled him on to the dimly lit
street and through the central square towards the port, where Reza had already gathered a group. The pair kissed furiously all the way to the boat, then staggered up the gangplank, their passion
only momentarily interrupted by one of the crew instructing them to remove their shoes so as not to ruin the pristine white interior. Tara was oblivious to everyone and everything as she pushed Dan
into the first available cabin and locked the door. By the sultry light of the cabin he looked even paler than before, white, with burning black eyes like something out of Twilight . God he
was sexy. So … dangerous-looking.
Dan threw her backwards on to the bed and leaned back against the wall, watching, leering. She reached into her bag and got out the rest of the cocaine. Not bothering to cut it this time, she
put a little on her forefinger and sniffed it. She held some out for Dan to do the same. He grinned at her, baring his yellow teeth for the first time that evening, and greedily snorted the drug.
Then in one quick movement he pulled off her skimpy dress and frantically undid his flies.
Tara was not wearing a bra; her pert, childlike breasts required no additional support. In their urgency to make it they didn’t even think about foreplay. Pulling aside her lacy knickers,
Dan rammed his cock inside her and thrust away for what seemed like ages. In awe of his rock-star status and desperate to impress, she found she was unable to relax and enjoy herself, and barely
even noticed that he in turn was unable to climax, having probably taken too much coke that evening. Eventually, exhausted, the two lay sprawled on the bed in silence. Tara’s mind was racing,
imagining her future as a rocker’s girlfriend. A hit song dedicated to her perhaps. Matching tattoos. A crazy life on the road in LA and a star on Hollywood Boulevard … Or maybe a
shotgun wedding, her own rock-chick clothing range, and an entire
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