*contains adults themes*

My ass was sweating into the suede cushion through my skirt. I sliced my steak and searched for a good excuse to leave.

“So, Vivian, how is the practice going?” John asked, chasing a pea around his plate. His areolas were oddly wide.

“It’s thriving at the moment. It really picked up with the pandemic. Everyone was touched starved and carrying the tension in their necks,” Vivian talked more with her hands than her mouth, spraying flecks of gravy onto the ornate tablecloth. Her breasts bounced slightly, punctuating each point, “I’m not sure if I’m just getting older, or people are getting more anxious, but backs are getting harder to crack every year.”

“You’re getting old AND we’re more stressed than ever!” Loraine snorted. She downed the last of her champagne. Foam dripped from her lips and snaked down her body leaving a frothy trail. The group laughed, more etiquette than enjoyment. I speared some peas. One broke free and rolled down my shirt.

“Well, here’s to the housing crisis and the many bad backs it will bring you,” Jamie said in the seat beside me, lifting his glass. I tried not to stare at his cock. I tried not to think of how many of my childhood memories were set in the Centrelink office. I smiled, toothy and polite and clinked my glass to his.

Mitchel tapped a knife to his glass and stood at the head of the table. Everyone fell into a spellbound hush. My mind struggled to make sense of the sight. His nakedness seemed at odds with the opulence of the environment. The grandfather clock ticked above his head.

“Thank you all for coming,” He began. His voice had shifted to that of a toastmaster, rich and emphatic, “We have spent too much of our lives restricted by the chains of clothing. Suits. Ties. And so on. We’ve been forced to leave our instincts and urges behind in the name of civil society. But not tonight!” He sounded like a preacher trying to save your soul from the Devil of Denim Jeans. There was a light applause at the table, “Tonight! We devolve to our natural state. We give in to our base instincts. We return ourselves to the wild from whence we came!” They all howled in unison like wolves. Like everything else about this night, I had missed the memo. I was equal parts fascinated and horrified. It glued to my seat.

“Now. Let the debauchery…BEGIN!” Mitchel lifted a hand into the air like a gameshow host.

• At first there is just making out and sex and whatnot

• But then violence. Jamie stabs a fork through Loraine’s hand.

• Our narrator realises the reason she was not informed is she is the prey for their murderous games, chosen because no one will notice her absence.

• She is chased through the labyrinthine mansion and must fight to survive.

• Perhaps some cannibalism (the steak was not in fact steak but uninformed guest of their last party).