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I kept walking. I went through the side gate, down the lane and onto the main road, past a very drunk Wonder Woman being sick politely in a hedge, and I called a cab.
It came in eight minutes. I sat in the back in my tricorn hat and my tailcoat, the black ribbon still on my wrist, the key in my pocket, and I watched the lit windows of Hartley House shrink to a dim orange star in the rear window.
The driver glanced at me in the mirror. “Good party?”
“Don’t know,” I said.
At home I put the kettle on and didn’t drink the tea. I sat on the edge of my bed with the key in my hand and I thought about a woman in a scarlet dress whispering in my ear, and the heat of her breath, and the words end of the corridor. I lay back and unbuttoned my trousers and took myself in hand, slowly, picturing the red mouth, the long hands. It didn’t take long. It was a decent orgasm and a melancholy one. I came on my stomach with my other hand over my eyes.
My phone buzzed on the bedside table. Tom.
Mate. Red dress at the bar asked where you went. Rules end at midnight so: her name’s Nina. Quiz captain Nina, you absolute idiot. She’s been up there since ten waiting for a highwayman.
I read it three times. Then I put the key on the bedside table, next to my keys, my phone and a wasted evening, and lay in the dark thinking about Thursday.
Ending 15 of 16: Taxi Home. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.