I was so hammered most of it's just a blur. But I remember her. The way that light red hair flowed loosely around her chest as she moved to the music. The skinny tank top did not suffice to conceal her body, nor did the tight shorts. Rather they conformed to it, advertising what was underneath. I like to think she was aware of this, but as far as I knew, she was just as drunk. Maybe that's why she made her way over to me, or she just liked me. But girls never really like me.
She turned her back and took my hands in hers. Held them to herself as she rubbed against me. The music. The strobe light...
 
Somehow we ended up in my apartment. Maybe a taxi? Her skin was so warm, and smooth. The tank top came off quickly enough, and the breasts were good, as I knew they would be. A pair of perfect nipples, red against her pale, freckled skin. Inked under her left breast was a celtic knot, and I wondered if it was for men like me to admire. She unzipped my jeans, and then I was inside her. Her curled, red hair was neatly trimmed, and it tickled as it rubbed agains my shaved pelvis. She moaned softly as we fucked, dancing without music, no crowd, no strobe light. Only the sounds of the city beyond the apartment window.
 
We quickened our pace and her face tensed, her moans turning to small, hurried sighs. Finally, she froze and shuddered in uncontrollable ecstasy. Staring straight into her grey eyes, I came inside of her. We lay still for a minute or two, embracing. At last we pulled away, and the semen dripped from her lips, beading up as it caught in her red hair. And there we stayed as we drifted into sleep.
 
Until I awoke with a start. What time was it? 4? 5? I couldn't see the clock, she was blocking it from my view. So I watched her. Breasts rising and falling with every breath. I considered the knot. It wound around infinitely, bending under and over itself. Of course it wasn't for me. Nor for her. She got it for someone special, someone she loved. Someone worthy. I turned away. I knew a knot would never be penned for me, in that indelible ink. No pattern would ever become part of a woman's body and soul in my honor.
 
The girl would wake to an empty apartment. Maybe she'd remember me, maybe not. I never meant much, just a hard cock to fill herself with. But I would never forget her.