Sometimes there is this feeling when you meet a girl, a connection that goes deeper than just thinking that she’s hot or that you want to strip her clothes off and run your hands over her most intimate parts.

I can’t describe it, and maybe it’s better that way, but there is a base instinct, a spark of some sort that you can’t exactly put a finger on, but it’s there and once you meet her eye, it doesn’t go away.

Usually, I recycle girls after a night, never giving it a real shot when the morning light appears. But a few rare times, I’ve actually pursued something more because of this … attachment. Three times that I can count, and they all ended when the respective she wanted to go deeper, know me more. See, I was capable of treating a woman well, being the good boyfriend or at least something that resembled it.

But ask me to show you my soul, explain my childhood, let you into my most inner thoughts … and I shut down. No one would understand where I came from, or why I operated the way I did. And I didn’t want to lay it all out for them, let someone close enough to destroy me or my trust.

So it scares the shit out of me that this flame exists between Eloise and I, that flickering mutual desire that has us circling each other like animals. Because I don’t want this … I don’t need, or have time, to entertain the idea of being with someone.

Yet here I am, my hand resting against the small of her back as we walk through the party. I can smell the fresh flower notes in her perfume, mixed with something else spicy that has my mouth watering.

We enter a room on the first floor where dozens of people are lined up at tables, flipping cups as fast as they can while drinking mass amounts of alcohol.

“Want to play?” I peer down at her, and it turns me on how much taller than her I am. As if I could pick her up with one arm and pin her body against the wall.

She rolls her eyes, that British accent wrapping around my balls and tugging. “What is this, the second year of primary school? And here I thought this party might be an upgrade from all of the American college shenanigans I’d read about.”

I laugh at her naïveté. “You came for the kinky, huh?”

Without letting her answer, I take her hand, lacing my fingers through it. Although I hear the sharp intake of her breath, and watch her cleavage rise and fall at my convenient angle, she doesn’t pull her hand back.

I pull her along the dark hallways, echoes of laughter, speech and something more illicit bouncing off the walls. We make our way through the mansion, an old home that used to be reserved for the Dean of Jade Mountain, but has fallen unoccupied and in disrepair since the official residence was moved into town. Now the social clubs have claimed it, an unspoken agreement between campus heads and the influential backers of Charter, Keil and the like. As long as we kept our activities under wraps, and mild enough not to alert local police, they would not interfere.

The East Wing ballroom opens in our path, and the ornate doors woven with gold are shut, nothing but a deep bass that vibrates from under the crack giving away the activity from within.

“You asked for this.” I lean into her, my lips on her ear, and I can feel the shiver that moves between her shoulder blades.

I’m already tingling with anticipation as I push the doors open.

The entire room is bathed in purple and blue lighting, giving an outerspace feeling to the atmosphere. It’s crowded, but not to the point that little offset groups of people can’t be seen participating in different activities. Along the back wall is a bar, but from experience, I know there is more than just liquor offered here. And on the left bank of the room, deep red velvet couches line the wall, hookah setups rigged on each table in front. The smoke coming from the users there gives the whole place a foggy, hidden touch.

“Oh my …” Eloise trails off, looking at the group just to our right.

A woman in the middle, four men simultaneously sucking on different parts of her neck and upper body. She moans wildly, and her hands grasp two of the men’s bulges as they all pirate in around her.

The crank of the wheel above the bar catches her attention. “What is that?”

“Dare to play?” Her hand is still in mine, and I pull her gently over to the wheel.

“And if I don’t want to?” she mocks me.

“We could have a little party favor.” I shrug, planting my hands on the bar as we reach it.

“An all-star athlete with a coke habit, didn’t see that one coming.” Her blond hair shines in the ghostly lighting of the room.

“I don’t really mess around with that stuff, random drug testing and all. But I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to relax a little.”

She scrunches her nose. “And let you or these mental broads take advantage of me? No thanks. Let’s focus on this wheel.”

Eloise walks up to it, the bartender noticing her interest. The wheel looks like something out of a medieval Price is Right, with descriptions and pictures painted on a dark wood surface. Around the outside were ticks for amount of time, and the whole contraption had two hands, one that landed on an activity, and the other on the allotment of time you had to stick with it.

“Have a threesome, take Molly, French kiss, heavy petting, anal … some of these are intense. Would you really have anal with a stranger based on a spin you had here?” She laughs, but quickly swallows it when she notices a couple in the corner engaging in something much heavier than dry-humping.

“Why don’t you take a turn?” I challenge her, wanting to see if she’s as tough as she appears to be with all of her witty comebacks.

“Why, so you can kiss me without having to work for it? I’m not that easy.”

No, I didn’t figure she would be. “Okay, then I’ll spin it.”

She lays a hand on my arm, her eyes sympathetic. “Again, whatever you land on, I won’t be the stranger completing the activity with you. So be my guest, if you’d like to feel up one of the girls in this room. But if and when you want to pursue me, you’ll have to work harder than a game of luck.”

Her blue orbs flash with something, their color mixing with the light in the room, before she backs slowly away from me, never breaking contact with my eyes.

I’m not looking for anything, and yet, it seems that Eloise Mason was sent here specifically to change my mind on that.