Wolf born

Sylvia felt strongly drawn to him the moment she saw him. The attraction

was instantaneous because he seemed to be her type. Slim and plenty of hair.

And this guy did not only boast of a narrow waist but adorned it with

proportional broad shoulders. He was lithe. Like a slim tiger having leisure time.

Complete with a full head of stylishly bushy hair and trimmed beard.

mplete with a full head of stylishly bushy hair and trimmed beard.

He moved with natural grace as he took a seat at the end of the bar and

waited patiently as a horde of party animals with darkened eyes yelled orders at

the overworked barman whose kohl had smeared around tired red eyes. Most

people in the party wore khol, which made them appear cattish. Sylvia

wondered if it was a kind of a club thing. She never knew who the celebrant was

or even the reason for the party.

Hours ago, before she crashed this party, she was abysmally drowning in

self-pity at home. Then she decided to seek out a hangout far from the area

where people knew her, and where she could be unrestrictedly decadent. She

found a place with loud music and poor lights. A group of party goers were

drinking up a storm at a table, she sat close to them and soon struck up an

irrelevant conversation with them. She eventually joined them to this party.

Ordinarily Sylvia wouldn't have talked to those strange people or even go to a

party she wasn't properly invited to. And the venue of the party wasn't the kind

of place she would have attempted going to with strangers. It was situated in an

estate still under construction at a remote part of town. She was probably

suicidal that night due to the cruel rejection she had suffered earlier.

Her new acquaintances, except for the drunkest of them, disappeared on

her as soon as they entered the party hall. The drunk guy hung around her. She

pointedly ignored him. He was of average height and stocky and odiously

plastered. He disappeared many times and always reappeared with a fresh

bottle of drink; a different brand from the last one.

Sylvia had contented herself with a small plate of chops and a bottle of

strong alcoholic wine she had snagged from one of the unattended tables as

soon as she arrived with her new friends. She didn't open the bottle since its

alcohol content was above her usual gauge, but as the party progressed without

direction, she was forced to uncork the bottle. She wanted something milder but

the stampede at the bar discouraged her.

As the loud music changed to a popular hit, the drunk guy suddenly placed

himself before her and leered down. 'You care for a dance?' He was moving his

body side by side in a funny motion.

'No, thanks,' Sylvia replied. 'I don't want to dance.' This wasn't what she

was looking for. If one must eat a frog, they better go for a juicy one. The reason

for coming here was to do what she never did before: have a good time on her

own and pick up a delicious guy to hang out with. That was what she wanted, as

opposed to playing it safe, which she had done all her life. Look at where playing

it safe got her. John betrayed her. Discarded her without remorse or even

respect. Made her a laughing stock.

'Why?' the drunk guy asked, taking hold of her hand. The kohl on his

eyes had mixed with sweat and spreading towards his cheeks. He burped. She

slipped her hand free from his sweaty clutch.

She quickly scoured the hall for better entertainment and to avoid looking

at the man before her when she sighted what she wanted. The new guy wasn't

ostentatiously dressed, just in dark jeans and shirt, so nobody took notice of him,

except her of course because he was her type. The drunk guy pestering her

finally weaved away, dancing with his hands lifted up. She sighed with relief,

gulped down half glass of her own drink and liked the instant buzz it gave her.

She decided to wait for the new guy to get comfortable before she could "bump"

into him and strike up a conversation. It would be easier for her If he had a drink

in hand. But then, a little after 15 minutes of his arrival and after she had taken

more gulps of her drink, he hadn't gotten a drink, so she approached him with

hers. 'I've got a whole bottle, you care to share? We will ask the barman for an

extra glass.'

He seemed surprised at her brazen approach but he shrugged. He was

better looking up-close. Thick ruffled hair, light brown in colour as if tinted, fine

groomed facial hair, but not too groomed; full darker eyebrows and lashes. The

dim light in the hall cast a shadow on his face and softened his complexion to

golden. What she saw of him was handsome in a rugged way. She liked him

more.

'But I don't drink alcohol if that's what you've got,' he said to her, his voice,

light and friendly. 'Thanks all the same.'

Sylvia hitched a hip on a stool beside him. 'This is all I could get.' She

poured more wine into her glass and took gulps. She had become nervous. The

wine gave her that spur to approach him so brazenly, and the fact that she was beginning to get tired of getting courted by men she didn't like. She now wanted

to go for the ones she liked and save everyone the trouble. John, her recent ex,

had chased her for a month, when she finally agreed, she regretted it almost

immediately. He wasn't her type to begin with. He was overly muscular in a boxy

way, but since he had chased her relentlessly, she took her friends' advice and

gave him a chance. First, the romance was forced. The chemistry wasn't there.

They just dated, going with the squiggly flow. Meanwhile, she was committed to

the relationship and tried her best to make it work, to the extent she started

seeing him as her type and even managed to fall in love with their relationship.

She kind of started believing she loved him. What was there not to love? He had

a good job, good looking, dressed well and came back home before 7pm. He was

a husband kind of guy. Only for him to stab her. She caught him cheating on her

and when she confronted him, his callous reason was that she wasn't committed

enough in their relationship to be his wife. He got engaged a week later. Sylvia

felt more humiliated than broken-hearted. Yesterday, one of her friends and

roommate made snide remarks about her being dumped for a village girl. Sylvia

stormed out of their flat and hadn't gone back. She slept over at another friend's

place and decided to crash a party with total strangers today. She didn't know

whose party and she didn't care. She promised herself to hook up with any fine

guy and have a nice time. And here she was chatting up a cute guy who was

totally her type.