I push out the echoey voices in my head and find the quiet among the noise. Just like when I paint, getting lost is what I’m searching for.
Painting allows my mind to create while dancing channels my energy. I silence everything and let my physical body find its rhythm. Tonight, it’s reveling in the hard body of a man whose cock is pressed up against my ass.
“Let me buy you a drink,” the stranger whispers in my ear.
“No thanks. I’ll pass,” I shout over the music.
“Oh, come on. Whatabout a shot?”
“I don’t drink.” It’s a lie, but he needs to shut up. He’s killing my vibe.
He wraps his arms tightly around my waist, drawing me closer to his strong, muscular frame. His breath against my skin makes me want to vomit.
“Umm, are drugs your choice of poison? We’ll do a line in the bathroom.” His voice is dripping with sleaze. “I wanna see you fly while you’re on your knees for me,”
Oh, fuck no!
I release my arm from around his neck and unleash a swift, bone-jarring elbow to his side. It’s quick and precise, stunning the asshole.
“I think I’ll pass, plus I felt your dick. It’s not that impressive. I can do better.”
“Fucking slut,” he chokes out, but it’s sounds more like an old man wheezing.
A defiant smirk spreads across my lips, and I give him a cute finger wave before making my way through the mass of sweaty bodies.
Well, that just boot-stomped over my mood and added an ankle twist for good measure. Why do men have to be such assholes?
Touche.
Since the night of the incident, the effects have lingered in the recesses of my mind, a constant reminder of the dark I fight to resist. I’ve succeeded in staying away from drugs and pills. Except for weed, it calms me the fuck down, plus Marcus approves it. It’s not that I crave drugs or need them; they’re just something Iusedto do from time to time, but I don’t make the best decisions while on them.
Deciding I’m done with this fucking day, I make my way to the coat check, praying my baby is still there. I mean, come on, she’s pretty.
That’s when I hear it…
“Oh, look at that hunk of beef, Cookie. I’d like to slide down his pole. I couldsoteach him a thing or two.”
I shudder at the mind poke.
“Mmmm, we could tag team that ass.”
What in the ever-loving fuck am I hearing? And what the fuck are they wearing?
Standing off to the side, overlooking the packed dance floor, are Ms. Brandy and Ms. Cook. Why does this not surprise me? It’s just two old ladies out clubbing at one in the morning in their… I narrow my eyes, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing… fucking slippers.
Good for them, I guess. Don’t let life pass you by, ladies. Seize the day!
I make it to the coat check and the attendant hands over my baby, still looking sexy as ever, and relief washes over me. Still pristine white and fabulous.
Once I hit the night air, the breeze cools the droplets of sweat still clinging to my body, and a shiver runs up my spine.
I light up a smoke as I head to my bike. This entire night has been a shitshow. First fighting with Olly and then with that asshat. The smoke from my cigarette fills my lungs and that doesn’t even take off the edge.
I’m stressed and freaking out, which is why I went dancing. I’m just feeling too many emotions and needed a moment to get lost.
What was I thinking when I kissed him tonight? I was desperate for some sort of physical touch, the genuine kind. I wanted to feel something good, but I was not expecting the spark that radiated down my spine and nestled into my groin.
There’s something about Olly. Just being around him makes me calm. It’s why I’m so intrigued by him, somewhat obsessed, really. How does he have the power to calm me when, historically, very few have?
