Born werewolf

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.

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 wa