his hand out.
“Tony. What’s your name, baby?”
Her skin crawled just a bit. She wasn’t
used to anyone calling her names like that, but it wasn’t his fault. “Vanessa.”
He held her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, which
embarrassingly, made her giggle. He grinned even wider. She had to practically
shout over the loud music as she said, “I’m gonna get a drink.”
“Let me buy it for you, baby.”
She shook her head. She didn’t know him
and she’d heard enough stories about the kind of shit men could do to a woman’s
drink, so she headed to the bar with a little wave and ordered another
hurricane. She paid for it, started sipping on it through the tall straw and
danced to the music. She spotted Tony coming down the stairs after her; he
lifted his head in greeting.
The effects of the alcohol were doing
its job. Her body felt looser, warmer, and lithe. Her eyes felt hooded, like
they didn’t quite know if they wanted to stay open or not and that was fine
with her. She felt sexy as she rolled her hips under the spinning lights up
above; she felt anonymous. Tony smiled down at her and spun around her, his
hand settling on her hips. She wasn’t completely comfortable with his hands
there. At first, she stiffened, but his hands didn’t glide forward, up, down or
anywhere else so she relaxed and leaned back into him, sipping away at her
hurricane.
“You’re gorgeous,” Tony said in her ear.
She smiled like an idiot. No one ever
called her gorgeous, or pretty, or cute or babe, for that matter.
Her head seemed to spin in time with
dancing lights painting the dark room in circles of pink and white. She let
herself relax into Tony, and when his hands spanned across her stomach she bit
her lip in disappointment that sparks didn’t fly. Damn, it wouldn’t be him. She
finished her drink, turned around, and smiled sadly.
“Sorry, but I have to go.”
“What? Come on baby, things were just
getting good.”
She shook her head, deposited her empty
glass on the bar, then waved goodbye to Tony and started wading back upstairs.
“Fucking bitch!”
She stiffened, but kept going. Now that nickname she was totally used to. Joseph called her bitch. Or fucking bitch
most of the time. He never even used her name.
It must be the alcohol, but as she made
it back in with the heavy pile of bodies, she’d nearly forgotten all about the
human’s barb. This time, her eyes were alight with something. She felt loose
and sexy enough to do it. She danced her way through couples and groups of
girls looking for a man who’d spark that something special deep inside, that
something she’d felt dreaming about Brayden and then really felt when she
kissed him. That one kiss made her wet and eager to try more, taste more.
Tonight, she’d get it one way or the other—hopefully.
A tall figure came down the stairs from
the upper floor. Now that was a man; tall, broad shouldered, but not with the
bulky weight like the bouncer outside. She liked muscles, but not
serious-looking muscles; it just wasn’t for her. This man wore a white T-shirt
which must have been what initially drew her attention to him. The white shirt
seemed to glow in the dark room where most everyone wore darker clothes. He
waded through the dancers and she bit her lip as she made her plan of attack.
Did she ask if he was here with someone first? Did she just ask him to dance,
then do some heavy grinding?
His face still clung in the shadows; the
sweeping lights never seemed to illuminate him. A few women darted glances,
then full on smiles up at him as he passed. Then it dawned on her. He was
coming right toward her. Shit. She struggled to get her sloth-slow brain to
come up with an idea on how to nab him; he had to be the one. He was the only
one who’d caught her eye this whole night. And after two hurricanes, she easily
felt like making out with someone. She giggled a little, but that died a moment
later.
The white shirted man came into
“Tony. What’s your name, baby?”
Her skin crawled just a bit. She wasn’t
used to anyone calling her names like that, but it wasn’t his fault. “Vanessa.”
He held her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, which
embarrassingly, made her giggle. He grinned even wider. She had to practically
shout over the loud music as she said, “I’m gonna get a drink.”
“Let me buy it for you, baby.”
She shook her head. She didn’t know him
and she’d heard enough stories about the kind of shit men could do to a woman’s
drink, so she headed to the bar with a little wave and ordered another
hurricane. She paid for it, started sipping on it through the tall straw and
danced to the music. She spotted Tony coming down the stairs after her; he
lifted his head in greeting.
The effects of the alcohol were doing
its job. Her body felt looser, warmer, and lithe. Her eyes felt hooded, like
they didn’t quite know if they wanted to stay open or not and that was fine
with her. She felt sexy as she rolled her hips under the spinning lights up
above; she felt anonymous. Tony smiled down at her and spun around her, his
hand settling on her hips. She wasn’t completely comfortable with his hands
there. At first, she stiffened, but his hands didn’t glide forward, up, down or
anywhere else so she relaxed and leaned back into him, sipping away at her
hurricane.
“You’re gorgeous,” Tony said in her ear.
She smiled like an idiot. No one ever
called her gorgeous, or pretty, or cute or babe, for that matter.
Her head seemed to spin in time with
dancing lights painting the dark room in circles of pink and white. She let
herself relax into Tony, and when his hands spanned across her stomach she bit
her lip in disappointment that sparks didn’t fly. Damn, it wouldn’t be him. She
finished her drink, turned around, and smiled sadly.
“Sorry, but I have to go.”
“What? Come on baby, things were just
getting good.”
She shook her head, deposited her empty
glass on the bar, then waved goodbye to Tony and started wading back upstairs.
“Fucking bitch!”
She stiffened, but kept going. Now that nickname she was totally used to. Joseph called her bitch. Or fucking bitch
most of the time. He never even used her name.
It must be the alcohol, but as she made
it back in with the heavy pile of bodies, she’d nearly forgotten all about the
human’s barb. This time, her eyes were alight with something. She felt loose
and sexy enough to do it. She danced her way through couples and groups of
girls looking for a man who’d spark that something special deep inside, that
something she’d felt dreaming about Brayden and then really felt when she
kissed him. That one kiss made her wet and eager to try more, taste more.
Tonight, she’d get it one way or the other—hopefully.
A tall figure came down the stairs from
the upper floor. Now that was a man; tall, broad shouldered, but not with the
bulky weight like the bouncer outside. She liked muscles, but not
serious-looking muscles; it just wasn’t for her. This man wore a white T-shirt
which must have been what initially drew her attention to him. The white shirt
seemed to glow in the dark room where most everyone wore darker clothes. He
waded through the dancers and she bit her lip as she made her plan of attack.
Did she ask if he was here with someone first? Did she just ask him to dance,
then do some heavy grinding?
His face still clung in the shadows; the
sweeping lights never seemed to illuminate him. A few women darted glances,
then full on smiles up at him as he passed. Then it dawned on her. He was
coming right toward her. Shit. She struggled to get her sloth-slow brain to
come up with an idea on how to nab him; he had to be the one. He was the only
one who’d caught her eye this whole night. And after two hurricanes, she easily
felt like making out with someone. She giggled a little, but that died a moment
later.
The white shirted man came into
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