I remember my first Valentine's Day party as an adult. I was single but I knew I was attractive because my best friend's boyfriend, Mark, had made no secret of the fact that he fancied me. Once, when she was in the shower getting ready for us to go out and he and I were innocently chatting in her bedroom just down the corridor he had asked me straight out to show him my panties. I have no idea why but I smiled and raised my skirt just enough for him to see them. I didn't let him touch them or anything, and Carla was back with us within a couple of minutes so the moment passed but I got a thrill out of knowing that he and I had that little secret - even if it didn't go any further.
About three months later it was Valentine's Day. Mark and Carla had broken up at Christmas and I knew he was now dating a much older girl, but I sent him a card and, in lieu of a signature, I enclosed those same panties. I knew he'd remember them and it seemed like a great laugh.
What actually happened was he phoned me on Valentine's day in the afternoon and asked if I wanted to go to a party with him and Celia (his new flame) that evening. I didn't really want to go but when he told me where it was I changed my mind. It was a roof party on top of a famous department store in London. Every year they throw a huge marquee over the roof, and the roof space and a couple of floors below are thrown open to the most incredible party. I knew getting into this kind of event was almost impossible so I could only assume Celia had some kind of connection.
Anyway, I said I'd go and I spent three hours getting ready before walking to the station where they said they'd swing by to pick me up. I'd not met Celia before but I'd built her up in my imagination to the point where she was a larger than life figure who was intelligent, beautiful, well connected and rich. It came as a shock to find that she was driving a Ford Mondeo, but I figured it made sense that she was in the driver's seat. In any case she looked great. I sheepishly wished I hadn't worn such a short little black dress. I loved it, and it matched my coat and bag, but next to Celia I probably looked like a gawky younger sister. I have great legs, but hers went on for miles. I'm a slim size eight, but she looked like a size zero super model. I'm pretty, but she was beautiful. You get the picture. I'm really not putting myself down, but I could see immediately why Mark had ditched Carla. I assumed he had already met Celia when he did so.
We drove to the edge of what was then the newly installed congestion zone. Five pounds seemed a lot to pay for the privilege of driving on another 300 yards so we parked on a double yellow and walked. Celia strode on confidently in her heels. I could see she was wearing black fishnet stockings and her LBD barely reached the middle of her thighs. She was wearing a Mizuko coat that I'd seen in a magazine and that I knew cost about £3,000. This girl was way out of Mark's league. He was cute, but I found myself wondering why Celia would be dating him.
We got to the store and Celia led us around the side to what appeared to be the entrance to a completely separate block but which inside was revealed to be an administrative section of the same store. One lift ride later we were walking out onto the roof to the sounds of Noel Gallagher, and admiring the most incredible view of a cold London's nightscape. The marquee was heated but we were too cold up there to stay for more than half an hour or so. We took pictures of each other and drank a couple of complimentary martinis and then headed downstairs to one of the other floors. The decor was amazing. The whole floor had an African theme and after a few dances I sat with Mark on a huge sofa that resembled a zebra. Celia whispered something in his ear and he smiled and nodded. They kissed and she disappeared somewhere. It was loud with the music and chat so we couldn't really chat much, but we got up to dance a few times and Mark went to get us some drinks during a break between DJs.
"Where's Celia?" I at last managed to ask him.
He cast an eye around the room and saw her. He pointed her out to me. She was talking to three guys in a corner and it looked like they were getting on very well.
"How did you meet her?" I asked.
"At a Hallowe'en Ball last year," he replied.
I did a mental calculation. He'd met Celia about six weeks before dumping Carla. I really couldn't blame him, though. I looked back across at his gorgeous girlfriend. She had one arm draped over the shoulder of one of the three guys and the others were chatting with her with excitement and interest.
"She's pretty," I said.
Mark looked at me. "You think so?"
