Scarlett's Dream and Its Giver

"Scarlett appeared by the single street light in an unexpected flash. She could not remember how she got there or why she was even here, on this desolate pavement by the only light for miles.
And then he materialized through the mist.
Of course it was him. Her eyes widened and she stopped breathing. Classic moment before the heart turmoil begins.
He recognized Scarlett and walked straight to her. She noticed that not once did he take his alluring blue-green eyes off her. It was almost as if he felt it too.
"So where are we going?" She said,  only slightly cocking her head to the side when he stood in front of her. It was the tell.
The young man brushed his finger tips along her jaw line and down to her collarbone, still not blinking, still penetrating her with his intense gaze.
He sighed, obviously satisfied with himself, as well as with her.
"We're going to Sarah's."
Scarlett raised her wild eyebrows. "Which Sarah?"
"Blonde Sarah. Thin Sarah. The one with the annoying voice."
"There is no way I'm going to hers."
He caught on to something. "And why not?" He pulled her a little closer.
"Because I slept with the guy she liked and potentially still likes. The one that's now working in Canada."
The man laughed, running a rough hand through his shiny black hair.
"We're going to Sarah's."

They appeared at hers. It was not exactly what Scarlett had expected, as there was a full-blown orgy happening in the living room and on the staircase, where the drunker people were congregating in the hope of pulling someone decent looking and equally as drunk.
Scarlett thought only one thing: "How depraved."
She had had three and foursome experiences herself, but nothing as public as this, and with good reason. A quarter of the participants were occasionally fumbling for their phones.

Scarlett looked over at the man she had come with.
"What are we doing here?" She asked him openly, defiance written on her pale face. But he just smiled and went to greet a few people he knew. People who had no idea who she was. Presumably just another one of his many conquests. It was the way he worked after all. Nevertheless, if only they had looked better, with a critical eye instead of an inebriated one, they could have seen the power that they had over each other, even without realizing it. Oblivious.
There were sparks flying everywhere. They would have burned the house down with everyone in it.
Arsonists with electricity. Hmm.

And then they were in the garden, finally locking onto each other like they should have done by the street light where he had appeared to her through all of the lack of clarity.
She opened her blue eyes after a particularly intense kiss.
He was gone."

Cigarette Lips

"The taste of cigarette smoke clung to her tongue, even though she had not touched a single one in months.
On her short walk home, the girl waded through her whereabouts of the last few days, still wondering where this bitter taste in her mouth came from.
Was it Charlie?
Charlie smoked, but they had not kissed in three days. He was still at the conference in Brighton. And she was here, in the City, alone with her cigarette lips and a strong desire to get rid of them.
Vi's thoughts returned to the night she had passed in rowdy company in a seedy pub in a "you should avoid it if you can" part of town. Not once did it occur to her that she might not be safe. She had worn thick eyeliner and lipstick for the first time in months. Charlie did not like her with make-up on. She loved it.
"Who. Is. That?" A friend of Charlie had asked another friend of Charlie.
"Charlie's girlfriend."
That was that. He did not come talk to her. But... Another friend of theirs, whose first love was eavesdropping, did. He came over to where Vi was sitting among a group of other people, discussing the latest nihilistic novel they supposedly had all read. It was exactly the kind of conversation that would get you in trouble in those parts of town, but no one seemed to care that a bunch of intellectuals were congregating at a rock concert that quickly escalated into a beer throwing fest.
Vi did not seem to mind, neither did the rest.
By the end of the night, every single person smelt like the floor of a brewery and looked like a broken hearted drag queen. But the night had been a success, for the aim had been to "expand their horizons". They had fulfilled their weekend mission and could now return to their monotonous every day lives, packed with coffee orders and mindless chit-chat, as well as being one step from suicidal.
Vi thought about Charlie. She would soon have to tell him that she was no longer in love with the life they had built together and that she wanted to wear make-up every day and dance on podiums all night. He'd hate it.
She was strangely looking forward to it, as if she was finally answering long awaited call from a friend in a war zone."