The room was hot but that wasn't why she was trembling. It was a cacophony of experiences, so much living in one night. She had met Dali, shouted at Joyce, been complimented by Cole Porter. It was overwhelming, it was unbelievable. As he sat her down, she tipped her cocktail down her throat and took a breath. The desire to climb into his lap and hold on for dear life was strong.
"I'm fine now. Just got a little overwhelmed," Abi said, downing the other half of her drink. "You know how you imagine your perfect night to be? I think even in my wildest dreams I wasn't given a Dali scribble and fussed over by a handsome man like you," she leaned forwards, pressing her lips to his in a more heated kiss, desperate to relieve some of the tension between them. "And now you're looking after me, worried about me?" She muttered, putting her hand flat on his chest. "I don't want to meet anyone else just yet, I want to dance with you and kiss you and laugh and drink the night away." She leant back again to give him breathing space too.