A sharp knock to my shoulder catapulted me out of my reverie, and someone grabbed my arm, almost tugging me off balance. A shiny, grinning face leered down at me.

"Sorry darlin' didn't see you there," the face apologised, sending wafts of beer breath my way and making my nose wrinkle in revulsion. He was very tall, with more gel in his hair than I would have thought possible and his pale pink polo shirt, with the collars turned up, stretched tautly over the slight paunch of his stomach, revealing the small well of his belly button. His face moved in again and I was aware his clammy hand was still clutching my wrist.

"Almost sent us both fucking flying didn't I?" he laughed loudly - too loudly - allowing me a full, close-up view of the inside of his mouth, black fillings lining both sides. I pulled my arm back, wishing I could rub away the sweaty residue I was sure he had left on my skin.

"It's fine," I muttered, stepping back as if his mouth might swallow me up whole at any second.

He swayed on the balls of his feet and I felt his booze-glazed eyes flit over me, before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a box of Marlboro Red, flipping the lid and taking out a cigarette before gripping it with the corner of his mouth. He patted down every pocket, finally finding his cheap Bic green lighter and clicked it into life with a roll of his thumb. Sucking hard and exhaling, without any care not to breathe the smoke into my face, he shook the packet of cigarettes at me.

"Want one, darlin'?" he slurred.

I shook my head. "No, thanks. I don't smoke."

"Good fucking girl," he drawled. "These things kill. Says so on the packet, don't it?" He took another drag, letting his eyes wander again. "So you here on your own?"

Oh-oh. I knew exactly where this was going.

"I'm here with someone," I stammered, wondering how I could make a hasty retreat. "Just getting some air."

"Yeah, bloody hot in there ain't it?" he swayed closer, grinning. "Still, another drink will sort us out, won't it? What you drinking?"

I backed up again. "Oh, I'm fine, thank you anyway." I turned to go and he grabbed my hand, his hand slick but strong.

"Whoa, whoa, where you going?" he smiled. "I was going to buy you a drink."

"Really, I'm fine. I need to get back inside," I said through gritted teeth and trying to pull my hand away but with no luck.

"So who you here with, darlin'....male or female? Because you know, if it's a girl, I'm sure she won't mind sparing you for a quick drink with me. I don't buy doubles mind you, so don't go thinking you can get a free night out of me, know what I mean?" He laughed again, this time spraying spittle out of the corner of his mouth.

"I, er...." I looked around. No one seemed to be taking much notice. Great. Trust me to get stuck with the drunken arsehole who wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Male or female?" he persisted, his fat tongue poking out and slicking across his lower lip.

"Male," a voice said behind me and I turned quickly, only to find myself looking up into the cool green eyes of the man at the bar, who returned my gaze with a small smile before fixing his attention on the other guy. "That's my wife you have your hands on."

I fought the urge to gasp out loud and did my best to go along with the ruse, tugging back my hand and quickly wiping it on my dress.

"Oh, um....yes, this is my....husband." I waved my left hand in the guys face, waggling my ring finger. "Hello...um, darling. I was just coming to look for you."

A flicker of amusement danced across his eyes.

"Except I found you first," he said. His voice was surprisingly soft and deep and I noticed a slight lilt to his voice; an accent I couldn't quite work out. He lifted his eyes from mine and stared hard at the other guy, who immediately backed up a step despite being the taller of the two men.

I felt the air prickle around me and I looked from one man to the other, noticing how my smoker friend seemed to shrink under the intense gaze, his cocky leer soon replaced by uncertainty, his brow crinkling anxiously. Quickly, he looked away as if he could bear it no more, taking one final drag on his cigarette before dropping it to the floor half-finished and squashing under his foot.