“I’ll probably be leaving with Henri, so make sure you have money to cover the cab home,” you told Bruno as you both checked your mostly empty wallets.
“Maybe I’ll go home with someone as well?” Bruno said with a saucy look.
“Duh. Of course you will,” you said with blind adoration and punched Bruno lightly in the shoulder.
Then you squeezed into the back of a taxi with Bruno while I hovered anxiously between you. The bar in question was called The Basement and was not widely advertised. In fact, I wondered how you knew about it at all. The entrance was in a back alley with a large balding man guarding the door like Cerberus at the gates of Hell. There were a few men smoking cigarettes or engaged in public displays of affection when the two of you approached the bouncer. He appraised you both, eyes lingering on your pants, then scanned your IDs.
“You two been here before?” he asked, shining his flashlight in your eyes.
“First time,” you said boldly.
“You look a little young.”
“Good genes,” you responded lightly.
“There are some shady characters in there. You sure you’re into that? There’s a club around the corner for young‘uns like you.”
That was a challenge I knew you couldn’t resist.
“I didn’t dress like this for nothing,” you said with haughty arrogance.
The bouncer licked his lips. His eyes landed on your crotch, not even trying to hide his lewd thoughts. “You strike out in there, come find me at the end of the night. I’ll take care of you both.” He grinned lecherously, and you, in your excitement at what the night might hold, gave him a radiant smile in return. The bouncer opened the door and, with his free hand, guided you inside, taking the opportunity to palm your buttocks on the way in.
I did not like how the night was starting out.
The club was dark and thick with cigarette smoke. Strobe lights flashed on the dance floor where several scantily clad figures clustered together. The two of you shimmied your way through the crowd as nearly every set of eyes turned to follow you both with open interest. You’d just managed to make it to the bar when a much older man offered to buy the two of you drinks. Bruno gladly accepted, and he flirted with the man while you scoped out your options. Your eye was drawn to the most suspect of characters—not only those in studded leather with scars and tattoos, but men with hard, vulturine eyes and bad intentions. You’d always had an ability to sense energies, and just as I feared, your attention fixated on a man with a very malevolent spirit.
He was built like a Viking with cold blue eyes and slicked-back blond hair tied in a neat ponytail at the nape of his neck. His attire suggested young professional, which somehow made him seem all the more sinister. He stared at you with a mixture of desire and revulsion, as though he couldn’t bear the fact that he was attracted to you. Something depraved was going on behind his eyes, and I didn’t care for it.
“That one,” you said decidedly and nodded at the blond man.
“Don’t you think it’s cheating if you approach him?” I asked, hoping to appeal to your moral rigidity. “Wouldn’t it be more appropriate if he came to you?”
You snorted at that but seemed to agree. Having finished your drink, you deposited the empty glass on the bar and grabbed Bruno by his shirtfront. “Let’s dance,” you said aggressively. Bruno only smiled apologetically at the older man and followed you out to the floor.
As far as dancing went, there was really no comparison. You were professionals, and even though the music was faster, louder, and required a different set of movements, it was obvious almost immediately that the two of you knew what you were doing. The crowd parted so that everyone in your vicinity could admire your writhing, undulating bodies. Arrogant to the point of decadence, it was as if you were devouring the sweetest, ripest fruit and having the juice drip down your chin while a sea of starving men watched hungrily.
Several men approached you, and you offered your body freely. A brew of jealousy and fascination held me in rapture as I observed your mating ritual. I reminded myself that all of this was for a greater purpose, so that we could be together in a corporeal way, but having to witness a man attempt to grope your genitals while grinding his erection into your backside was difficult to bear.
You were both so accustomed to having your bodies used as instruments, especially in the studio with Sergei’s insatiable hands, that I didn’t think you quite understood the sexual frenzy you were inciting among these men. In another time and place, this type of performance would lead to an all-out orgy with your bodies being utterly ravished. If it were a bloodborn kind of gathering, it would likely end in you being torn limb from limb in a contest to possess you. I wanted to caution you, but you were enjoying yourself so thoroughly that I didn’t want to ruin your fun.
It wasn’t much longer before the blond brute you’d spotted at the beginning of the night began to wade through the sea of bodies to where you were sandwiched between two much larger men, gyrating in a way that made your party resemble a three-headed beast. The man stood silently at your side with his head tilted slightly as if impatient for you to finish. In some unspoken agreement, you wiggled your way from between the men and followed him to the edge of the dance floor. I interloped on your conversation, curious to see how much seduction would actually be necessary and to pick up any clues as to this character’s true intent.
“What’s your name?” the man asked as though he didn’t really care but needed something to call you for the sake of convenience.
“Reggie,” you said.
“Blake. You from around here?”
“Miami born and raised.”
“Ever been here before?
“Nope. It’s my first time.”
“First time, huh?” Reggie licked his chops, a starved wolf having spotted a lone lamb.
“Blake, I’m pretty sure you want to fuck me. Is that right?”
