As the world began to fade, his passenger pacing the confines of his mind like a caged cat, Brooks let slip his last shred of awareness and fell into darkness.
Brookswoketothelazy thrum of music and a terrible, unnatural heaviness in his eyelids. He tried to move his limbs but they hung like leaden weights. His mouth was dry and cottony and his head felt too heavy for his shoulders.
Where am I?
A strong baseline rumbled along his skin like the touch of a tender lover. It seeped into his shoulders that were pressed against a rough leather couch and thrummed its way down through his biceps.
The soft tendrils of music wriggled like snakes in his veins, caressing his forearms and slithering down through his fingertips. He clenched his fists to feel the serpents tense with his movements, surely as alive as he was.
They moved under his skin in time with his breath, with each beat of his heart and swam behind his eyelids, blurring with each pulse. Or maybe it was the music they were moving with?
They seemed to have become one by this point, his being and the sounds around him. His eyes tried to process his surroundings, the edges of the room blurry with the lazy drone of lights surrounding him.
He felt high, euphoric even, and wasn’t sure he wanted it to ever stop.
A subtle movement caught his attention.
A silhouette stood on the platform across the compact room. She moved slowly to the rhythm, twisting and turning, her beauty incomprehensible. A small stage was set before him with a golden beam placed from floor to ceiling– a private room to hold a private show, meant for his eyes only.
The edges of her hips blurred in and out of focus as they swayed seductively side to side. She turned circles on the beam keeping time to the slow river of the music, flowing with it as if she were submerged in the currents. He closed his eyes to rouse himself from the haze.
His pulse met the rise and fall of the music, moving along with the woman across from him. It was drawing him into her, bringing them together as only an enchantress of men could.
As only a Siren could.
As she drew nearer it was as if she were coaxing the breath from his lungs, slowly pulling his life force into her and he was nothing but willing to submit. The seductress before him left him unbound.
Unguarded.
Bare to her will.
The desire surrounding her would drown him, gravity holding him under the dark depths of her eyes.
A whisper of breath teased the hair by his ear. Brooks forced his eyelids apart, a task becoming harder by the second. The woman was no longer dancing across the room, but instead right in front of him. She began to circle him, just as slow and bewitching as she was when she stood on the platform, dragging her fingers softly around his shoulders as she passed.
He came alive under her touch.
The lines of her body were hard and defined as if crafted by the hands of a goddess, each bone chiseled with care and every muscle sculpted with intention.
“Brooks?” Her voice was as light as a lover’s touch and just as familiar.
His vision blurred again, and the weight of his head on his shoulders became unbearable. He released the tension in his neck and let it fall backward.
“Siren?” He slurred, his body not fully connected with his brain.
Those well-defined lines and curves of her body grew hazy. She seemed to slither in tune with the serpents beneath his skin like they were a part of her rather than himself. The lazy flash of the red lights illuminated everything but her, keeping her a secret of the darkness.
She dropped to her knees and pressed her fingertips just above the knee. Brooks shuddered, the breath leaving his lungs with a murmured curse. His body was aware of each finger, tracking their movement and reacting to each gentle, teasing stroke and twirl. She was electrifying, his seductress.
“Mine,“ his passenger growled. Or did that pass through his own lips?
Her body invaded the empty space between his legs, pushing herself into the encirclement of his thighs.
Each point of contact between them generated electricity that set off a kaleidoscope of explosions behind his eyelids. The soft ebb and flow of her breath was like a lifeline tethering him to what he was hoping was reality.
“Relax,” she whispered. “I’ve got you. You’re under the influence of my song. Just breathe.”
His senses were becoming addicted to her touch. Each brush of her hand drained the trepidation away a little at a time and promised safety as it guided his gaze to her. There was no space in this room to indulge fear.
