Had this night really happened to her, Elizabeth Holmes, wife, mother and fledgling writer from small-town Iowa? She felt like she was in a Stanley Kubrick movie. Seconds after she had felt Sebastian’s erection pressed against her, she felt someone else grinding into her from behind. Someone small, soft and smelling of lemon. “Mmm,” Naomi purred, “I am so feeling this song, aren’t you guys?” The filling in a movie star sandwich, Elizabeth didn’t even know if she was moving in time with the music anymore. She panicked. “Actually, I’m a bit ... whoo!” She disentangled herself from the two actors, flapping her hand in front of her face, and started walking backwards off the dance floor. “I’m just going to ...” Elizabeth pointed in the direction of the bar. She didn’t think they could hear her over the music anyway. Elizabeth walked straight past the bar to the exit. After a quick glance at the elevator, she headed for the emergency stairs, taking them two at a time until she was out of breath.
