When they can’t find anything wrong with you, they create it. -Anonymous

Natasha

A shrill noise hits my ears, pulling me out of my deep slumber. I take off the sleep mask from my face and sit up in bed, before reaching my hand over to pop the button that will shut this fucking thing up. No matter where you go; luxury splendor or a cheap motel, the alarm clocks always sound like banshees rising from the darkness.

Blinking my eyes, I am pleased to find there is little light to adjust to. Just how I wanted it to be. I didn’t want to wake up until it was at least seven p.m. after the morning we had, getting straight off the plane to go shopping, but what else should a girl do when she is on a trip in Miami? If I am going to be here, I am going to look the part. That is exactly how my best friend, Bethany felt as soon as she arrived as well. It just so happened that we were wiped out when we got back to the hotel and needed a cat nap before we continued our day, or night rather.

Looking to the bed that sat next to me, I realize that Bethany isn’t there. My first thought is that she woke up early and went down to flirt with the cute bellboy. She was always like that, and they flirted right back. It didn’t help that she looked like she just stepped out of Baywatch or something with her flat stomach and long blonde hair. Not that I don’t have my good looks as well, but they just aren’t that kind.

When I hear retching in the bathroom, I am acutely aware that flirting, is not where Bethany ended up. Instead, I go to the edge of the large bathroom to find her worshipping the toilet like a shrine, trying to keep those blonde locks I described, out of the muck that is filling the toilet bowl. “What’s the matter, Beth?” I ask her with concern, keeping my distance as much as possible. I won’t lie, I am one of those girls who vomit from the mere sight of anyone else completing the act. I am not in the mood to puke my guts out on our girl’s trip to Miami. Nope. Not happening. Though, I feel terrible for my friend.

“I’m thinking sushi at lunch was a bad idea… maybe I have food poisoning,” she commented, looking up with her miserable, beady, ice blue eyes.

I frown at her. “No, don’t tell me you can’t do tonight. We have been planning this trip for ages, and tonight we were finally going to check out the club everyone’s been raving about. We have to go,” I beg her, knowing it’s useless. I can’t force her to go to the club with me. It's just not right, but the disappointment is heavy.

I watch as she tries to get up off the floor and make her way to the sink to clean up her face and teeth, flushing the toilet behind her. She looks pretty pale, come to think of it, and I seriously worry that she needs to see a doctor. “I think I need to take you to the hospital or something. You’re pretty pale, and food poisoning can be bad news,” I tell her.

“Hah!” she scoffs. “Natasha, food poisoning of all things is not going to kill me, especially at the beginning of our Miami trip. No. It will be gone by tomorrow. I’ll just stay here and puke it all out, and you go to Riske without me,” she urges. I don’t like it one bit. It doesn’t feel right for her to wallow in her pain while I get to check out the hottest club in Miami. It feels selfish. “Stop overanalyzing and just go. I go clubbing all the time, plus, those upscale places aren’t for me. I like to get down with the low lives,” she jokes before gagging again.

I shake my head and go over to the small wardrobe where our dresses are. I made sure to carry them in garment bags from the shop and hang them up as soon as I got here. Part of the perfect trip is looking perfectly hot.

I thumb through the options and go for the one that stands out most, the one I was almost hesitant to wear. It has this black mesh that covers the back of it, showing off so much skin, it should be illegal. The only saving grace is the fact that it has this pattern of black covering up the front. It lends itself to some kick-ass cleavage though, my greatest asset.

“Can I borrow your black dress?” I ask Bethany. I have to admit that it’s gorgeous.

“Go for it!” she calls back to me.

I drop my clothes to the ground and carefully pull the dress over my body. It is fitting me like a second skin just like it is meant to. I place my hair at the front of my body and walk over to where Beth is now on her bed, looking like she might pass out. I have to have her zip the thing up. “Damn, you are going to get hit on by everyone who sees you tonight,” she tells me as I feel the cool glide of the zipper along my spine.

I laugh. “That's kind of the point, I think.” I top it off with a little makeup; black eyes and red lips. That’s all I need. My complexion is too nice to gunk up with anything else. I slip on a pair of strappy silver heels; a pair of shoes I know will garner attention but also that I will be able to dance in. There is no point in going to a club unless I can dance half the night away.

I give one last sympathetic look to my best friend who now has her eyes closed before I leave the room, heading downstairs to the lobby where there will be a shuttle waiting for me. Being rich sometimes comes with issues, politics, and judgment from the outside world, but it also means I get free shit like this from time to time. Perks we call it.

When I get to Riske, I decide to wait in line like a good girl instead of using my influence, or my money, to get in quicker. Instead, I choose to watch who they let in and who slaps cash into the hand of the man in charge of the door. It is clear to me that Beth was right. This is an upscale club; the kind frequented by those with millions and millions of dollars; people with families like mine.

The door opens again to let a couple in; an older man with a trophy wife who does nothing but smiles brightly. I crane my neck to get a glimpse of the inside, and while I am met with the booming of the bass from the music, I see nothing but black.

Finally, I am at the front of the line and glad I picked the shoes that I did. These things are the bomb like really, they are so comfortable for heels. I hardly notice they are on besides the height they give me.

They let me in and tell me to watch my step. I see now why I couldn’t tell anything on the outside. I have to go down a set of velvet covered stairs. Yes, that’s right, velvet. I get to the bottom and have to push back a curtain, the music already shaking my whole body with its volume. As I step out, I am stunned to stillness while I just take it all in; the most brilliant design for a club I have ever seen. And as I walk, I just keep discovering more parts of it.

All the furniture in the lounge areas are made of the same plush velvet as the stairs I took to get in, and there are all different colors surrounding me. It’s like each corner has its own theme. Looking up at the ceiling there is a chandelier that looks like it belongs in a castle rather than a nightclub, and the bar covers one whole wall. The cabinets are all a sleek black and the bar itself is completely glass, making it look as cold as ice. It makes me want a drink. As I saunter over to get one, I can see a corridor that leads outside and it makes me want to see even more of this place. So, I grab myself a silver tequila martini and savor one sip, before I take the drink on the go, walking out into the open air.

Out here there are leather seats and small tables where people sit and chat, many vaping or smoking. The music is faint and the crowd more subdued.

I go back in where the song has changed and decide to look up and check out what I can see on the second floor. There is a clear VIP section, covered by translucent curtains and a balcony above that where many watch the dancers below.

I sip at the most delicious martini I have ever had and watch the dance floor, the place I really want to be, and I will, as soon as this drink gets into my stomach. I close my eyes as the sweetness of the sugar around the rim mixes with the sour tart taste of the tequila while it burns down my throat. Some sins just feel too much like Heaven to let go.

I set my glass back on the bar before going to the dance floor, feeling the beat beneath my feet as I blend into the crowd. It is body to body in this place, and damn I have to admit they are all beautiful bodies. Many may be that way due to plastic surgery, but we all look good together as we sway to the beat and rub against each other; male; female; doesn’t matter. This is the way I like it. I like to get lost in places, in moments. That's how I feel it should be for everyone lest it be the last one you get.

I feel the music in my body and the energy everyone else is feeling in here as an awesome song comes on and takes me over. I am sweating and partying, shaking my ass to my girl Iggy Azalea like my life depends upon it. My hair is starting to cling to the sides of my face with sweat, and this is what tells me I am meant to be here and enjoying this. It would only be made better by Beth right here with me. I’m going to make damn sure she gets to come here with me before we both leave to go back home.

The song ends, and I think I need another drink, and maybe to cool off. I squeeze back through to the bar and lean over, hoping the busy bartender will see my tits and come help me before whoever is next. Instead, I hear an authoritative voice from behind me. “You have been requested upstairs.”

I whip around so fast; my hair almost hits this guy in the face. He doesn’t flinch, though, and I survey him in his perfectly tailored suit. Who is this asshole? I laugh at him, thinking it’s some joke from a drunk man trying to get some. There always has to be one clown at the rodeo, right? I tap him on the chest mid-cackle, but again, I get no reaction. His face is so damn serious I have to stop.

“You have been requested upstairs, and I will be taking you there,” the man repeats. Well, fuck, I think he means it.

“Whatever, let’s go,” I say to the goon and follow him to the stairs that lead directly up to the VIP section I saw when I first came in and looked up. At first, I feel excited to get to see what it’s like up here. It only takes thirty seconds for me to remember that there is someone I never want to see again; someone that could be requesting my presence. A wave of fear rolls through me as the name Rusev is at the tip of my tongue. Could he be here? It would be a place he would want to be, and of course, the fact that I am here is just an added bonus. Is he the one who requested me?

Shaking, he appears to me in my mind almost as if he is right in front of me. No matter what I do or where I go he is always with me, haunting me. I see his eyes, the eyes that always had something hidden inside of them, and I hear his voice in my ear. It sends an unwanted chill down my spine, and I hold my breath as this goon leads me to a secluded area in the corner and moves back the curtain to let me behind it.

A sigh of relief comes out of me as I see it is not Rusev, or anyone related to him in any way, as far as I can tell. I allow myself to scan over him and notice his unique looks. This man has his dishwater blonde hair slicked back and dark contrasting eyes almost as black as a starless sky. I can tell even from his sitting position that he is tall, taller than me in my highest heels. I catch him looking me over as well. I wonder if he likes what he sees. He must if he had someone fetch me for him.

“Thank you for retrieving her, Egor. You are dismissed.” The man’s voice comes out calm, smooth, and authoritative, and then the goon leaves us alone, just like that. The thick curtain and the fact that we are surrounded by walls on the other three sides make this a private room, and I wonder what he wants from me in here. I wonder what I will give.

,” I mutter, as I realize there are little flecks of glow in the dark paint on the walls, so we still have light back here all by ourselves.

the man shoots back, immediately capturing my attention. I feel heat rushing through my entire body, especially at the back of my neck and my abdomen. I notice yet again the way his eyes are exploring my body, likely undressing me from head to toe in his brain. He sneers at me like he is about to catch his next meal. Not that I am not looking at him in a similar way. He certainly looks like dessert to me.

“What is it you want?” I ask boldly, sort of knowing the answer but wanting to move this along past lustful gazes.

He stands up, a grin beginning on his perfectly shaped face like someone has sculpted him to look this way, and then that turns into a full-fledged smile. My stomach tightens, and I can feel myself getting wet in my panties. One look from him and any woman would have the willpower of a goddess not to cream her pants.

“You are not stupid. You know exactly what I want,” he says. He is right, I do know what he wants from me, and I want it too. I want it just as badly as he does. I may be a woman, but I have a libido to match any man’s when the time comes.

This man takes a few steps towards me, and I remain in place while I let him circle me like a shark does to its prey. I stay there like a good little victim, waiting for him to devour me. He stops behind me, and his fingers land lightly on my shoulder, causing me to let out a breath I didn't even know I had been holding.

I feel him step into me, the heat of his body radiating into my backside as his mouth lands just at my ear. “What do you want?” he whispers, careful not to act; touch me. I get the feeling he knows how maddening this is for me, so I decide I am going to play his game right back and throw his own words back at him.

“You know exactly what I want.” My shoulders straighten a little out of smugness. He chuckles a dark but melodious sound into my ear before backing away just a bit. It leaves me cold without his body so close to mine.

“I appreciate a woman with some wit and a strong head on her shoulders. Can you believe I could tell that about you from just watching you down there, all the way from up here?” he asks, and I shiver at the thought of him watching me dance. He steps close to me again, and I am in Heaven, or on my way to Hell. His lips press into my ear, and my eyes roll up into my skull as he taunts me, driving me crazy with that warm, sensual breath of his. His hands slide down the sides of my body, following my curves before beginning to explore elsewhere.

This dress is so thin, and I am starting to appreciate it as he feels of every nook and cranny he can find and reach.

 “Come with me,” he whispers, entwining his hand with mine. Even that feels sexual in some way.

I let him lead me to the wall on my left, just past the curtain, and I find there is a door there, blended in with the wall. He smiles back at me slyly before pushing it open.

We go inside, and the door shuts. I can see immediately it’s an office. I can only think of a few reasons why this man has an office in a club, but that’s something I can figure out another day. Right now, I want him; and he wants me.

He pins me against the wall, my hands landing against it to keep me from smashing my face right into it. His breath is on me yet again as he unzips my dress. He acts like it’s a delicate job, something to take his time with like unwrapping a gift. Maybe I like that idea; being something special.

A chill hits me as the dress hangs there at my hips, and he has to work it down to my ankles, so I can step out of it. I keep my heels on as I kick the dress to the side, making sure our heights are better matched. I know the advantages of this.

He slips his thumbs in either side of my thong and plays with the strings so that I will never know when or if he means to take it off. He rolls the material up and down my hips almost like a preview of the motions we might be making sometime soon.

Finally, they come off, and I let out a sigh of relief and anticipation. His hands begin to roam my bare ass, feeling every part of me; every curve my ass and pussy makes. My head tips back as he makes small circles on my clit, only to move back to my ass cheeks again. He was teasing, an expert at sexual torture. I am not the kind of girl that deals with this; that lets this happen. I take charge and force him to go in, to please me, but I want to know so badly what this stranger has in store, that I hold the wild beast back and just let sensations take hold instead.

Suddenly, he grabs me from my hips and pulls back, making me slide down the wall so that I am primed and ready for whatever he wants to reach. His hands admire the soft skin of my round backside, another asset I have, but am sometimes self-conscious about. Hey, clothes are hard to find for a big ass.

His fingers play with my asshole a little, testing me. I could feel him watching me and waiting for my reaction. I am not giving him any reason to stop touching me with his warm hands. I want him to keep going until I get my satisfaction here tonight, and I am not beyond begging if it gets down to it. I am that girl, the one that can be it all when the moment arises.

His hands leave me, and I whimper and sigh, both annoyed and disappointed, but then it comes, the slap. His hand hits my right ass cheek like I am an animal he is trying to get to move. I can feel the imprint of his hand as the skin begins to go back to normal. That's when he gives me another, this time on the left. I scream out as he lands another dead center, harder than the other two. This one could leave a mark, something I could look back on, in case I never saw him again.

“Scream for me again,” he tells me softly. It wasn't anything frightening or demanding. It was a want, a need, and I gave it to him again and again as he made my ass raw. But I didn't know how much longer I could wait to feel him.

As if reading my thoughts, he steps back from me, and I hear his zipper as he pulls it down, letting his cock loose. I can't see it, but I am afraid to turn around and break the moment because I am so close to getting what I want.

I feel his length up against me. He is hard and pressing between my ass cheeks, so I can feel how big he is. I am dripping at this point, just waiting for him to take me. I can handle him, I can guarantee this.

Then, he does it, he slams inside me with no mercy, his hands landing on my hips and wrapping around them for leverage. I moan as he slams into me, filling me up in an instant with both his length and girth, even as my pussy stretches to fit him. “You’re so tight,” he groans into me.

“Fuck.” I can tell I am rocking his world, and I lean my ass back into him more as he makes a slapping sound every time he thrusts.

“Shit,” I say in return as I feel my body wanting to bring me there too damn fast. It’s like he’s made to get me off with his cock, the perfect curve and length hitting all of the best spots inside me.

My pussy begins to squeeze around him so that he can hardly move, yet he tries, making himself get there so that he releases into me, filling me with a warmth that makes it all the sweeter. I rub my ass on him, getting everything out of him I can before I finally let him go, allowing him to slide out of me. He spins me around and plants a kiss on my lips that I wasn't expecting. His lips taste so sweet on mine, I don't want it to stop, but it does.

He zips up and gestures to my dress on the ground. I strut to it, making sure he watches me while I glide it back over my satisfied body. I pick up my thong and tuck it in his pants pocket with a sly grin before asking him, “So, what's your name? I don't think I caught it.”

He gives a hearty laugh, the kind that shakes his whole body before answering. “Anton.”

“And yours?” He raises his eyebrow at me expectantly.

“Natasha,” I tell him boldly, slipping him my number before exiting the room. I just hope I’ve left him as hot and bothered as he’s left me.