Haven, Elleane, and Rhiannon pushed their way to the middle of the dance floor and, as the DJ mixed in another track, they danced. Everywhere around them, couples locked in intimate embraces, bumping and grinding to the music, making love while clothed.
As Chris Brown’s“Forever” flowed into Beyonce’s “Sweet Dreams,” Haven morphed. The demon of sensuality kissed her, and she gave in to the tempo. She moved to the music, pleadingwith the haunting melody to show her mercy—to give her glorious release.
Elleane and Rhiannon danced chest to chest with men who held them tight, grinding their crotches against them in slow, sensual movements.
Haven didn’t have a partner, but she couldn’t care less. Men were more trouble than they were worth to her in that moment, and while she hadn’t given up on them completely, she was wary of them and their intentions. After her mess of a marriage, she had every right to be.
She had the music—the only partner she needed.
She spun, swinging her hips and throwing her arms into the air, tossing her head back as the music thrummed through her, thrilling along her skin and sinking into her bones.
The music pulled her, enticing her into its dark and twisting labyrinth of beats and melodies, and she was lost.
Chapter Four
In the growing expanse of night, a vital force stirred, called by a passion and spirit so strong, so scorching, it couldn’t be ignored.
Somewhere in the distance, enshrouded in darkness, tiny gears whirred to life. A soft glow pulsed, signaling something had awoken. Locked within a gaping hollow, the vital force drew upon its slumbering power and called to this passionate one. An eager voice as soft as the scented breeze made its way toward the burning soul in the large white tent.
With the musicpulsing in her ears, Haven danced until she couldn’t draw breath, then collapsed into a heap on the closest chair.
She waved when Elleane and Rhiannon spied her at the table.
“All right, ladies,” Elleane squealed, “let’s go see what else is here.”
They made their way to the edge of the tent, and as Haven stepped from under it, a strange heat warmed her. The spring breeze ran its adoring hands over her, and something whispered in her ear. The wind carried words, indecipherable and taunting, but she didn’t want to know what they said. The whispers played along her neck and down her spine, her skin tingled, and a sensation of warm fingers travelled over her. She shook her head to clear her brain, took a deep, steadying breath, and followed Elleane and Rhiannon into the fairway. Whatever just happened had to be some kind of emotional feedback from dancing. It couldn’t be anything else.
Right?
Glancing about the vendors and games, she tried to keep pace behind a smoothly maneuvering Rhiannon. Booths of all sizes spread along a wide alley where adults of all ages perused the merchandise. Vendors displayed baubles shaped like breasts, coffee mugs with genitalia for handles, and books featuring the modernized version of the Kama Sutra.
She lost Rhiannon in the crowd but continued along the row of booths to the end of the alleyway.
A lonely black tent was perched in the shadows.
Overwhelmed by the surprising allure of the shabby structure, she peered inside, and something seductive and irresistible urged her into the cool interior.
Strange things had already happened, what was one more hellishly weird thing to add to the list?
Unbidden, memories of the incident in the car crashed over her. The chill, the breathlessness, the fear, the strangeness, the out-of-place, and the totally unwelcome.
She squinted as her vision adjusted to the darker interior. Expecting a small round table with a crystal ball in the middle, she puzzled at the single table covered by hundreds of old, tarnished watches.
Why the hell was someone sellingwatchesat a sex-themed carnival? It seemed about out of place as a nun at a bacchanalia.
Signing in disappointment, Haven turned to leave, but stopped dead, her heart in the throat, when a beautiful woman wearing a bright pink track suit appeared as if stepping from the shadows.
Haven blinked.
Where did she come from?
The woman was stunning, older than Haven, but she had similar long black hair and olive skin. Also, she looked poured into her track suit.
The woman walked to the other side of the table and went about arranging the watches as if Haven didn’t exist.
Whatever.She pivoted to leave.
“Wait, young lady, perhaps you’d like to buy a watch?”
