The gin hit hard. Nia giggled a little as two such boys approached their table.
“Ladies, care to join us?” the tall, dark one said, like he’d done it a hundred times before.
Nia looked at Hana for the response, unable to wipe her innocent, red smile away.
“No, we’re fine,” said Hana avoiding eye contact, keeping her focus on another tight ball of yarn.
“What about you then?” The dark one turned shifting his dark-brown eyes to Nia. He was an Italian mix of some kind.
“What she said,” Nia squeaked, dying for a giggle.
“What? You can’t think for yourself?” He was growing impatient with the two femme fatales.
“Back up the truck now, honey buns. We’re not interested. Scat,” Hana shooed them away with her long, pink nails. They finally took the hint and moved on to their next victims.
“He was cute. What was wrong with him?” Nia leaned in close to Hana, as she was tired of yelling above the noise.
“Oh, do you not know that trick?”
“What trick?”
“Playing hard to get. We can’t just go for the first lot. I don’t care what they look like. Anyway, he had a small one. I’m tired of small ones. They just don’t do it for me anymore. I’d rather have an average boy with a big one, than a looker with a small one.”
“You’re stuck on cock tonight,” said Nia, seeing a flash of green amongst the sea of dancing sinners.
“Yes, I am,” said Hana, downing the rest of her gin. She took an ice cube and sucked on it with her sparkling, pouty lips, giving Nia a seductive glance.”Now you do the same, so we can dance already.”
“This is a double, isn’t it?”
“Yeah baby,” sang Hana.
“Here we go.” With a quick tilt back, Nia swallowed the rest, slammed the glass back down, and let her new friend lead her out into the hot pit.
BOOM . . . BOOM BOOM . . . BOOM.
Dead center was where it was at. Hana knocked Nia’s hood down, and the two danced like they were more than just lovers. The music pumped through, within, drowning out all thoughts of the real world and their real problems—college, money, the busy barista job, overbearing mothers, ex-boyfriends, and the dorm-room rat. It was screw all and let’s have a ball.
The music changed to something slower, something deeper, a carnal rhythm calling on all to find a partner, calling on all to move. Nia felt a hand tug at the back of her jacket. She turned to see the green eyes.
Struck by love, Nia lost her breath, lost her mind.
Hana pulled back at Nia jealously, like she was in it for more than just the boys.
The green eyes flashed red, and Nia blinked—surprised, confused. Hana, dazed by the color change, let go of her dear friend as she was yanked away by a tight ball of yarn who had been eyeing her. The girls gave in to their boys, and Nia found herself in the grips of a tall, firm body with black, spiky hair that matched her own, lips ready to kiss, and features so sharp, he could have been the new Brad.
Oh my God . . . Oh my God . . .
She wanted to die right then and there, he was so hot. Nia looked down, but he forced her chin up, forced the first kiss as he rocked her V against his hard mate below.
Oh my God . . .
A warm lust washed over her as her mind blanked out and their tongues met. He prodded her above like he wanted to below—oh how she wanted him to take her someplace else. Any place else, so they could.
My God . . .
It was like he could read her every thought. He withdrew from the kiss, held her eyes in his, and stopping dead center in the dance floor, his body said, “Come with me.” His lips didn’t move. It was like a thought transferred from one mind to another. “With your permission . . .” He smiled. He taunted.
“Yes,” Nia agreed. “Take me with you,” she pleaded.
The mysterious suitor swept her away from the sinful tide and they withdrew to the quiet beach, down a few dark halls, one last left to black door with a sign: “VIP” in red.
The door opened automatically. More black lights, a few odd couples moving in tandem strewn out against a back drop of blue velvet pillows, curtains to cubicles, some tied some not. Nia saw skin, plenty of skin. Nia heard sounds, sounds of pleasure, sounds that made the heat in her belly boil as all she could think about was sex—sex with a stranger.
God . . .
“There is no God here,” he said opening a curtain and leading her inside. “Just me.”
She laughed, “Just you. And you are?”
“I’m Johnny. Take a seat, relax, enjoy. You’re Jessica.”
“How do you know my name?” she asked.
“My bouncer. He takes notes for me.”