“What the hell, Jules? What have you got us into?” Standing across from my friend, hands on my hips, I express my thoughts out loud.
I shouldn’t be taking my frustrations out on my best friend, but what a waste of time. Knowing I have only seven days before I go back to my normal life, I wish the next hour to fly by as fast as possible.
How have my good friend and I been talked into trying our hands at speed dating on a Saturday night by my other normally intelligent friend? I think my two inseparable friends and I are quite sensible and easy-going types of people, but sitting and listening to five different men bragging about their lives questions my intellect. And there’s still five more to go.
“Have a few more glasses of champagne and loosen up a bit. I’m trying to find my Mr. Perfect tonight. There’s not much longer,” Jules flippantly speaks. My friend since primary school, Jules is six feet tall of sun-kissed, flawless skin with long, flowing strawberry blonde locks. Humble, with a beautiful soul. Any man would want her. Wherever she goes, heads turn and eyes follow, but she never lets it go to her head. Jules will do anything for me, like listening and never judging me because of my upbringing, offering comfort and a safe place when I couldn’t cope anymore at home, and understanding my need for privacy and my story. To top it off, Jules is my nightly safety net—my working partner by day who keeps me sane and ultimately alive during the night hours.
Tonight was planned by Jules for a bit of fun for us all together. I am allowed to do as I please, within reason…for one more week. I mean, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt me…right? Helping Jules and Kameron find Mr. Right is a small thing I can do for them. Kameron, who is opinionated, headstrong, and wild, completes our trio. Together for three years, we are all downright different, yet our lives wouldn’t be the same without each of us.
“Come on, Isla. A few more guys are left and I’m actually having a blast toying with their minds,” Kameron insists. “I asked Conquest Number Three if he uses ropes or ties. His face lit up. It was so hilarious. His phone number is one I will acquire right after my next five rounds of five-minute wonders. I want to know if he can use them.” Hearing the words fall out of her mouth, the thought of it makes me cringe.
“Kameron, you didn’t say that to him, did you?” I ask with my voice upbeat.
She faces both Jules and I and laughs in her distinct roar, “Yeah, damn straight I did and if I have to hear one more, ‘I work at a good firm and I want kids eventually and your eyes are the best,’ I think I will scream. So, I’m spicing it up. I think I may come out and tell them if you’re not into using toys and ropes, then see you later! No point wasting my time and theirs.”
Looking over my shoulder, she spots some guy and lifts her eyebrows suggestively at him. I wish I had that much confidence in myself… Unfortunately, mine is purely an act. A skillful and well-executed performance each night. Meeting who I’m told to. Dressing how I’m told to. A rehearsed precision for each client, depending on what my orders are.
Bored and agitated with the current pubescent males, trying to find their Mrs. Perfect, informing me about their personal details, I inwardly sigh. Tonight, my bold red Louboutins with heels higher than what is considered sane and my little black dress, hugging my curves in just the right places, were supposed to give me newfound confidence. Hoping men would come out in droves looking for their perfect match…Looking for me. Not the actress… But the only thing coming my way so far are pimply-faced, long, and skinny young boys who wouldn’t know how to give a lady an orgasm, even if I performed it for them first. I can’t believe my luck. Although I shouldn’t be surprised given what’s happened to me in the past six years.
Lifting my chin, eyeing the prospects I am yet to face, I raise my glass to the girls and proceed. “Right, I’m going to take my seat and wait for the next five inspiring young men to entertain me or maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll get a grey-haired pudgy man who can whine about his mother or ex-wives continuously without taking a breath. Good luck, ladies.” Giggling, I take my fluted crystal glass of complimentary expensive, fine-tasting champagne and stroll over to the plush velvet beige lounge chair and wait for the men to enthrall me.
Sitting there anxious and getting a tad bit nervous, conflicting thoughts whirl into my mind while pretending to be interested in these bodies confronting me every five minutes. Fighting back the urge to focus on the fascinating objects around me, all I can think of is:
I shouldn’t be here.
Oh, how beautiful are these silver-flecked travertine tiles.
I shouldn’t be here.
Look at the glossy green plants scattered throughout the enormous conference room.
I shouldn’t be here.
The dark oak coffee tables are crafted magnificently.
I shouldn’t be here.
How beautiful are these plush cream drapes that are bound in silver filigree tiebacks?
I shouldn’t be here.
The expense of the whole damn room is utterly luxurious, causing me to crave to explore so much more of it. My love for both architecture and design is integral at keeping my life and career to date.
“I beg your pardon, but what did you say?” A gruff voice asks from a distance. I take a glimpse at the man who sits opposite me. He is an older man with tawny-brown hair who must be at least forty. Dressed in his olive green polo shirt, he fixes his collar, buttoning it up anxiously. “Am I boring you?”
I do not say a word and just stare at him blankly, still halfway lost in my thoughts.
His hands wave around theatrically. “I’m not good enough for you, aye? My job’s a high prestige job at the firm down at Elizabeth Street. I bet I make ten times the amount you take home each week.”
Before I can reply, he stands up and makes a hasty stride to the main table where we signed in. I guess I didn’t hide my wayward remoteness enough. Oh well, at least he was my last guy. Finally, it’s time to go downstairs. I came to this speed date night for one thing. The pass that comes with it to get into the most notorious nightclub in Sydney. I need to escape my reality. Who wants to listen to men bragging about their disposable incomes, cars, and vacations? I’ve got enough drama in my life to start my own soap opera on television.
Casting my eyes over the enormous room, watching couples learning information about possible prospective partners, sends a heart-wrenching shudder through my entire body. A long-term partner isn’t in my future…Only in my dreams. Flashing my gaze back over my shoulder to my last guy in his brown pants, fuck, they are so ugly, I feel as though I should apologize for my less than attentive behavior. He’s here, like everyone else, trying to find his match. But oh, how that ain’t me. Placing my empty champagne flute on the table, I start to stand up, ready to stick my tail between my legs and apologize to Mr. Grumpy for making his night less than enjoyable.
Trying to stand, my legs give out and I am back to my sitting position gaping at the most commanding man I have ever set eyes on. My breath catches. At first glance, I assess he’s a man who trains regularly, sculpting his over six-foot-tall physique to perfection. The dark suit tightly fits his arms and chest, held together by a single button. His pants hug his thighs leaving little to my imagination as he strides toward the gentleman I was about to apologize to. I can’t stop staring at him. His authority permeates around him. Even from where I am sitting, I see his piercing blue eyes are the most magical eyes I’ve ever seen. Gripping the older man’s hand in his, firmly ushering him out of the room, I wish his large hand was wrapped around my ass pulling me into his heavy muscles, aligning our faces. His sculpted lips tasting mine, masterfully making me his. One night with a man like that would do me for a lifetime.
Unsure if I’ve blinked in the last two minutes, my neck is stiff from my ogling. I pull myself back to the here and now, turning back so I can compose my body, which has decided to take matters into their own hand. My nipples are erect against my black dress and my panties feel soaked. Thankfully, I didn’t wear the cream dress I was going to bring out for tonight’s occasion. My cheeks are warm and no doubt flushed. This is so far removed from my normal reaction to the men I am told to entertain. The only man who comes near this imposing male is the man I work for and the only reaction I have towards him is fear and loathing.
Fuck, there’s no way I want to think about him at this moment. With the blood slowing down in my veins, I calmly breath in and out, steadying myself for the rest of the night. Jules eyes spot mine, bringing me back to the here and now. Trying hard to stay composed, I casually walk across the tiles near Jules, Kameron heads in our direction. Linking arms with Jules and Kameron, I pull them towards me so we all tumble sideways, nearly twisting my ankle in these death traps called shoes.
“Let’s go, girls. Considering I just gave up two hours of my life that I won’t be getting back, I want to go downstairs with the music.”
Jules nods in agreement.
“Fuck yeah, but I’ll meet you two downstairs,” Kameron says, as she is bouncing from one foot to the next on the spot. “I want to go and get Mr. Ropes and Ties’ phone number before I leave.” She swats my ass before leaving Jules and me alone as we gaze at the extravagant Raven Room’s interior for the last time.
“Are you okay, Isla?” Jules asks, looking at me. With our solid bond, she can always tell if there was something wrong with me.
With trepidation I answer, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m anxious. I need a few drinks to loosen up.” Like I normally do each night before I’m summoned. “Some liquid courage will help me get among the crowds so I can lose myself to the beat.” Walking to the elevator, I’m ready to let my hair down and my inhibitions go. Casting them aside for tonight.
The Raven Resort and Casino is in the middle of bustling Sydney. It’s renowned for its nightlife and it’s rumored to be associated with the Italian mafia, adding a dangerous appeal to it. The commotion of energy and bodies of cars, trucks, and buses vying for a lane to go in their own directions were all heard from a distance. Despite all of this, it is during the night when this city comes to life with the dazzling lights, the moon glistening off the water in the harbor, and the assortment of people coming together where Sydney finds its true life. It is the late hours where groups of friends are catching up, drinking and morphing into large parties around Circular Quay and the resorts, making it a place to enjoy life and good company.
Pulling up sharply, we round the corner, “Crap, look at the lineup, Jules. Looks like my twinkle toes are going to be asleep before we are allowed inside.” My head leans at the crowd of scantily dressed ladies and ogling males as we make our way from the elevator.
“Get your dancing shoes ready, Isla,” Jules says putting a hand on my shoulder, confidently smiling. “I promised you a bump and grind. Now let’s go. I need to find a fuck to keep me going for another week or two,” she laughs out loud. She strides with purpose, dragging me toward the huge expanse of a man, dressed in a classy black suit, an earpiece stuck in his ear. He stands in front of the roped-off entrance.
Brusquely and without a smile, the man greets, “Good evening, ladies. How can I help you?” The man glances down at Jules.
“Here’s our pass for tonight’s dance.” Jules swoons. “If we could be allowed in. Thanks.”
For such a large and intimidating man, he then airily says, “It is a pleasure you could join us this evening, ladies.” Piercing, cold, annoyed eyes watch us from the line. Keeping myself really close to Jules, turning my head to look at her smiling, a smile erupts over me, causing me to giggle as we walk in, pass the red roped-off area, hoping to be dancing our feet off in mere minutes. Just as the security unhooks the rope, Kameron comes around the corner.
“Get your ass in here, Kam. Our night out is about to start!” I yell over the bass as I swing my hips a small amount, showcasing my assets that are overshadowed by my friends. Tonight though, I’m not going to hold back, living only for the current moment, believing my life is that of a normal twenty-four-year-old girl.
Jules strides directly to the bar area, yelling over her shoulder, “Do you want the normal?” After a smile and nod of our heads, Jules shimmies over to buy us a drink. Hell yeah! She has the moves and the looks and a very fragile heart to go with it. Looking over to the side, Kam and I find a round table we can put our drinks on, small enough to allow us to yell across.
“So, did you get his number?” I ask Kameron as my eyes survey the room looking for any guy I may be brave enough to dance near. Or perhaps the authoritative alpha guy from earlier. Knowing she only needs to snap her fingers to get any guy’s contact details, I still envy how easily she does it. Being too anxious and socially awkward, I could never ask any guy for their details.
“Yeah, but fuck,” she says, flipping her hair. “I hope he’s down here so Toby and I can continue our earlier conversation about showing me his favorite moves.” With a small, quiet voice, she leans in next to me and whispers in my ear, “…or hopefully not. I could get really hot and sweaty with that guy over there and save Toby for a night when I’m all alone in need of some punishment.”
Kameron then chuckles, extending her finger to point at a hulk of a guy, with dark black spiky hair, a square jawline, and tattooed muscles bulging through his white sleeves. I elbow her in the side, giggling as I push her in jest, just as Jules appears with our drinks.
We all know about Kameron’s sexual preferences. She’s a submissive, which I find hilarious considering she’s so dominant about finding Mr. Right. I’ve tried to imagine her on her knees, compliant and quiet, and I can’t see it. The Kameron we see is lively, faces challenges head on, she’s direct and controlling. Vivid images flow through my head of rope and handcuffs binding her legs and arms, gag in place, at the mercy of another. It frightens me. I guess the unknown will do that to a person and I undoubtedly am as inexperienced as they come when whips, ropes, and cuffs are needed. I’m bound and at the mercy to a different world. Having meaningless sex. Whored out to the lucky guy chosen for me that night, where orgasms are for the male only. Groan, ohhh, yeahhhh, I’m close baby, ohhhh you’re soooo goood, then, bam! All over in seconds, without so much as a hand on my breast or a pull to my nipple, the clit being an unknown anatomy part to these men. This is my life. I face it and get on with it. Knowing I am on a night of freedom with my best friends, I take the time to appreciate the great company, committing this night to my memory to recall later.
Swallowing down the shot of tequila that Jules places in front of me, followed by a second one, I start to relax. Kameron drinks her two shots then bounds out to the dance floor to grind it up with Mr. Hot and Sweaty.
“Are you okay, Isla?” Jules questions as she wraps her arm around my shoulders, patting them. “I understand how hard it is for you, but open yourself up tonight and move with the music. Let all your demons go for one night. We may not get another night like this.” Knowing all too well Jules’ advice is correct, I can count on one hand the amount of times over the past years I have been left alone for any period of time without my boss dictating who and where each night. It’s the unknown surprises that I have to be alert for. Of course, I’m delivered to the client with a henchman, but I’m personally more petrified of him than the desperate men I go to. In the beginning, confiding in Jules was my therapy. Each night I’d be in tears planning how to rid myself of this existence. Jules telling me to leave and run. But the choice was literally taken out of my hands. I was clearly shown by the henchman why running was not an option. Abuse at the hands of my father had been child’s play. That was attempt number one punishment. Enough bruising and blood to remind me who I now belonged to.
Collecting myself fast, my ears listen for the bass. My fingers tap the beat on the table. With a cheeky grin, she then adds, “And don’t you dare forget to playfully grab ass with some of those male specimens on the dance floor. You and I both know you look unequivocally stunning tonight. So, make the most of it. C’mon, let your hair down.” The tequila shots are doing their job, as is the earlier champagne: making me warm and my head fuzzy.
Laughing loudly, I yell, “Jules, you’re hilarious, but I may take your advice tonight. Let’s take our curves and moves up on that dance floor.” Pushing and battling our way out to the continuous movement of bodies, a Rihanna song pumps around the room. My body starts to sway to the music and soon, I find Jules and me at the center of the crowd grinding our limbs with each other and everyone around us. My straight, long, black hair and large silver hoop earrings rhythmically swing. Arms are flowing up and around me, asses move up and down, hands lightly touching my hips and stomach. My fingers are innocently skimming males possessing firm, well-built arms and abs, with a touch or two of butts.
Unquestionably, I’m not used to doing this, but hell I like doing it.
I am lost in the moment, not caring about my shitty life. Just feeling. I spot Kameron a few feet away. Mr. Hot and Sweaty is still entwined with her, moving together as one. I give her a quick wave and turn around to grind some more with Jules.
As expected, many broad-shouldered and chiseled-faced men make their way to circle my friend. Her body commands these gorgeous men, enticing them to try their luck with a beauty only found on rare occasions. With the bright lights flickering off her choker diamante necklace and her icy blue eyes matching her dress, she’s a vision for anyone to watch. Her graceful movements and purposefully placed hands hypnotize guys within minutes. And then just as swiftly, she will turn and leave, doing the same thing to another. I was proud to be her best friend, not because she had the type of body men lose their shit over, but because I could ogle all of them when they surround her.
Leaning into Jules, I yell out, “I’m going to the restroom and then getting us a drink.” She nods, giving me her attention for a split second before another guy steps up his movements vying for Jules attention. Hell, that kind of attention would be so flattering, but I wouldn’t know what to do with it if it was aimed at me. Fighting my way back off the dance floor, I charter every ounce of courage within me and cheekily slide my hands waywardly over a few sleek, taut backs and asses, bringing a smile to my normally guarded face.
Appreciating the beauty of this resort would be easy for anyone; however, my training in antiques and interior design and my love of architecture makes this experience so much more exhilarating. This space is a complete contrast to the elegant white, cream, and silver settings we were in earlier this evening.
When we travel down the elevator, we enter another world. Gone are the velvet lounges, the bright shining blaze from the many chandeliers inhabiting the huge, high ceilings, and the strong oak furniture. The Basement nightclub oozes sensual, sexual desire, and appeal. Two large black shiny bar areas lit with precise subtle blue lighting, lined with people alluring each other with their stares, ogling others from afar, or bantering between each other, getting a feel for any connections that may exist. The dim glow coming from the overhanging dangling globes dance across each other. Illuminating the space enough to reveal numerous people dancing and mingling together. The bright bursts of strobe lights contrast with the darkened room, highlighting where bodies mingle and end, creating a perfect atmosphere to lose yourself in.
The bathroom is no different. The faded lighting allowing enough light for me to reapply my crimson lipstick while looking in a large mirror surrounded by thick, expensive-looking silver filigree. Putting on my new face, giving me a new-found confidence for the remainder of the night. No wonder the average person can’t easily get into this exclusive club. Encompassing beauty, class, and sophistication with an element of surprise, darkness, and danger heightened my own desires and all those here tonight. People pay big money to become a VIP here or wait hours in a never-ending queue so they can experience this place. A place to lose yourself, immersing your mind in a surreal place, allowing brains to be switched off. Thanks to my friend, this time I am awake in my own fantasy.
Steadily dancing down the corridor, I admire the red and black surfaces which contrast against the metallic silver decorations and fittings. Something silver catches my eye past the restrooms as I twirl back to the girls. I’m mesmerized. The silky silver material stretched between the dark hues of thick ornately carved wood is stunning. The flowing curves of the legs holding it steadily in its place is beautiful. The arms padded for ultimate comfort.
I can’t resist the urge. Getting down on my hands and knees, which is no easy feat in these ridiculous shoes and ass high up in the air, I go in search of an original label. It looks so much like an antique settee, but it couldn’t be, they’re so rare. Wiggling forward, I reach my head forward so it is under the middle-cushioned section of the settee.
“Can I help you, miss?” Someone’s voice filters the thin air.
What the hell?
Still on my hands and knees, I swing my head around to a pair of shiny black shoes in front of me.
Fuck.
My greedy eyes wander up to a muscular body clad in the finest black suit I have ever seen. His arms and shoulders fill the jacket to perfection. I don’t want to lose the sight of this gorgeous body. Something about it reminds me of the dreams I’ve been having lately trying desperately to pull me from parts of my life which are depraved and unimaginable.
Crap, I’m still on my hands and knees. How humiliating…
Trying to gain some composure and credibility, I attempt to stand up without taking my eyes away from his staunch torso.
No sooner have I finally got my ass out of the air, I try to stand when my ankle twists, sending my right leg crashing down. Athletic, robust arms catch me, preventing me from thudding down on the carpet, lifting me up to find a pair of piercing, cerulean eyes within a chiseled, flawlessly sculptured face which is smirking at me. Oh, holy fuck. It’s the dominant god from upstairs earlier.
No one—absolutely no one has ever caught me before…
His blonde hair is mussed up, ready for me to grab and pull down so his sensual lips can meet mine, allowing me to sample and appreciate his delicacies. Notions like these never cross my mind. My body’s physical attraction to this man is unnerving, surreal, yet so strong.
His cologne and striking looks is driving my senses wild. The opportunity to choose men for me doesn’t happen; they are always chosen for me. The perfect script is always written for me so my words are minimal, prescriptive, and not mine. When I’m with a male, only enough words flow from my tight-lipped mouth to get the job done and me back to my house, to the security of my own self. Another part of me dying inside with each one undertaken. So, finding this Adonis in front of me is having a palpating effect on most areas of my body and mind. Never has my heart beat so wildly. My skin tingles with excitement and energy. Every vein pumping blood through my body is thumping in response to the mere sight of this body in front of me, causing me to flush with a bright shade of scarlet no doubt.
“Ummm, ohhh, sorry…” I stammer in embarrassment. Finally, a handsome guy is taking time to talk to me and I can’t string two words together.
“Breathe…” his smooth perfect voice whispers after his tongue has tentatively swiped across his bottom lip. His perfect eyebrows arch in question and his eyes roam my curves in appreciation.
Deciding to take his advice, I take a few deep breaths, allowing me the privilege to take in his unique, clean, fruity odor, with a hint of male spiciness. Yum… My thoughts clear a little.
My hands fidget together, fingers knotting with one another trying to calm my anxiety. Bringing my eyes to meet his, my voice stammers, “Thank you, sir. I… I…I… was actually trying to see if this settee is… is… a genuine Rococo settee. I… I just can’t imagine there being one here at… at… at a night club.”
A smile adorns his sexy face. He looks at me with a look of amazement and perhaps awe, placing his right index finger at his chin in deep thought. “Yes, it is. What an eye for rare and beautiful objects you have, miss.”
Hell, I really have had too much to drink. This is too bizarre.
“What?” I squeak. Wobbling on my ridiculously high heels, the thumping of the music permeates in the distance. His large hand clasps around my pale arm, guiding me to sit on the settee in question with his hand on my lower back. By the time we take the seat, I start to think of how much of an honor it was to be reclining on this antique.
“Pardon me, sir. Are you sure we should be sitting on this exquisite piece of furniture?” My voice takes a high-pitched tone, surprised that my body is allowed to be on something so treasured. Using my hands, trying to lever myself off the precious furniture piece, he keeps a firm hold around my lower back. There’s no possible way anyone should be sitting on this. Blue eyes spear into mine. Not wavering for one second. Not blinking but assessing and consuming me wholly. Accepting that this man has control of me at this minute, I bravely ask, setting my eyes squarely upon his “Also, why are you talking to me?”
The man gives a wholehearted laugh and replies, “You looked like you could use some assistance when you were on your hands and knees, so I wanted to help. I thought you may have lost something.”
Hell, with that sexy body of his, he can help me find anything, anytime…anywhere.
Placing his warm hand on my thigh he adds “This is a French Rococo piece and it was imported here to furnish this hotel. There are not many left of these in the world today,” he continues. “I am always on the lookout for more delicate and rare specimens.” He places one hand over my quivering hands whilst the other hand brushes over my cheek with a feather light touch. His touch is something I have never experienced. It’s gentle, caring, and burning my flesh. A profoundness creeps over me. This is something I have yet to experience in my life. Such little things but so meaningful. One touch and I feel safe and protected. My breath hitches as I lean my head into his gentle touch, memorizing his touch and the stirring evoked throughout me. Heat pools between my legs and I close my eyes to try and keep this dream alive.
“What is your name?” My voice escapes in a whimper. Did I actually just ask him his name out loud and not in my head? Crap!
He leans into my ear and whispers, floating his breath on my skin “Alex.”
And by the time I open my eyes, his back is all I can see down the corridor, disappearing within a blink of an eye.
Shudders cascade through my chest cavity, evaporating any small glimpse of hope I had dared to let waft through my brain in our unexpected five-minute meeting. The sense of being alone is only too real. Sadness creeps into my eyes. The self-assured man strides away. Taking with him, unbeknown to him my hope clutched in his touch and his voice.
Gradually gaining some sense of awareness. My chest is pounding still and my legs are weak. Holy fuck! Who and what the hell was that? I’m stuck in a breathless fog. I pinch my left arm hard and yelp, “Ouch!” Confirmed, I really am awake.
Standing up reluctantly from this priceless piece of furniture, I am struck by the enormity of this situation. When the hell will I ever get to rest on a prized antique piece again? Crap, more importantly, when again will I be in the arms of the sexiest man alive? Pondering these questions is beyond me at this moment. I slowly meander to the dimly lit dance area in a daze after I buy Jules and Kameron our standard party cocktail, a Pink Raspberry Cosmo, collapsing on the stool near my good friend.
“Where the hell have you been, Isla? I was about to come searching for you at the bar.” Worry was evident in Jules’ voice. Swatting at my arm to gain my attention since I still apparently was in a dream-like befuddled state. My lips unable to move.
Holding up my finger to indicate for her to give me a minute, I take three deep and calming breaths to clear my head and scull my alcoholic drink in two gulps. Without speaking, I walk back to the bar to purchase another Cosmo. With a new one in hand, I stride back to my friend. By the time I weave myself back, Jules and an annoyed looking Kameron are waiting for me. Obviously, Jules has pulled her away from a new conquest making her scowl.
“Fuck, Jules,” Kam’s voice booms through my head even louder than the thumping bass. “What’s going on? Why did you drag me back here? Couldn’t you see I was getting some action with Mr. Hot and Sweaty? Now look what you did, he’s moved on to that other skinny piece. So, what gives? ”
“Alex!” I blurt out. “His name is Alex.”
The two girls raise an eyebrow in confusion.
“I went to the restroom and next thing I know, I’m on a French Rococo settee—unbelievable in itself with a divine man who was touching my face and telling me he likes rare and beautiful specimens. He caught me, Jules. I couldn’t turn away from his blue eyes. But just as fast as he appeared, he was gone.”
I swirl my martini glass full of bright pink liquid around and around and lick the dried raspberries from the rim before drinking the remaining contents. My eyes wide and startled. Glancing around the room, I survey the occupants while Jules and Kameron continue staring at me like I’m a side show freak. He must be here somewhere. I can’t describe the maleness oozing from Alex, but maybe I can show them. I could point him out to Jules and Kam, at least then I would also know that I wasn’t hallucinating. But then again, they would drag me over to him and they would talk to him. Would I want them to meet him?
Something stirs within my chest. I don’t want them to meet him. He talked to me, not them, which never happens. No one gives me a second look when those two are around. If Alex meets them, I will be cast aside quick. Never given a second chance.
Fuck… I’m jealous. The green-eyed monster is revealing itself. My friends don’t deserve that.
Lowering my eyes to the floor, these thoughts have to be squashed. There’s no chance of anything between me and him. He was only being a polite gentleman, helping a woman who was on all fours searching for something on the floor in a tight dress. Nothing more… He would have done the same for any other woman, I’m sure. I stand up and look at the confused face of my two best friends.
Before they can say anything, I grab their hands and pull them out onto the dance floor. I need to be free and not dwell on the dream I had ten minutes before.
The remainder of the night went how it generally did on these nights: Kameron went home a little earlier with Mr. Hot and Sweaty and Jules had her pick from the rest of the night club. As she is grinding to the new Flo Rida song, she grabs my shoulders and gives me a kiss on each cheek, asking me if I’d be all right to go home safely.
Plastering on my usual smile, lifting my chin so Jules is never aware of the disappointment I feel when she leaves me behind for her latest encounter, I reply the standard response, “Of course, I will be. You know me, I’m going to grab a taxi and I’ll be home safe and sound.” Tonight, there’s a difference though; I have a specific, hot-blooded real man to add into my fantasy dreams.
But only too soon would reality be upon me…