put his arms around my waist, I continued to sway my hips to the deep, surreal, techno rhythm, lay my head back and let him pull me toward him until our thighs touched. I held myself this way, drinking in the sounds and sensations all around me, opening my eyes to find the same pair of eyes on me, hardly moving. The stranger was in the same position, only he had turned his chair to watch me from this angle. The stage was four feet off the floor—I was higher up now, much closer this time, and saw who it was.
I stopped moving, turning my head to get a better look. I must have been losing my mind, or projecting something from the night's events; the schmuck above me looked just like Jasper Caldwell. I knew it! He was gay. What would he be doing here, didn't he have to go to bed early?
Then I remembered the woman in Montana. No matter, what a rush to have this attention on me, if it was him—fuck it—even if it wasn't. The fantasy was fun anyway.
Maybe he was a masochist and enjoyed having women scream at him. How had he found me here if that was the case? I remembered Barbara watching me, but didn't know what she would gain from bringing him here. I felt the small glow one feels when someone says something that makes sense, and you don't want to admit you like to hear it. Part of me wanted to get away, flip him off, go up there and tell him off, but I was feeling too good.
Vlad held me in front of him, and my thighs were screaming from holding myself back this far. I held tighter to his thick arms and pulled myself up as slowly as I could. Cool air washed across my stomach. My top had fallen back and the skin was exposed. Vlad wrapped one arm around my back, then with one hand traced his forefinger along the line of my pants, sending a lazy zing of sensation from my groin to my toes and back again.
A hard beautiful man held me and I was the center of the universe. Unlike these situations with straight men, I didn't have to feel guilty for giving them the wrong idea or anything else that would justify them beingan asshole later on. I straightened the rest of the way up, in time to the beat of the vaguely Latin rhythm until we were both face to face, still feeling the eyes on the back of my head. I slid my arms around Vlad's slick shoulders, moving behind so that I could now face the form watching me from above.
I bore my eyes into the darkness above me. Then when a song came on that I loved from years ago, I broke my gaze and danced with abandon, movement coming from my waist, dictating the movements of the rest of my limbs. At some point Vlad slipped away, and I was on my own again.
For what could have been hours but felt like minutes, I was completely lost. There was nothing like this. A warm pair of hands wrapped around my ankles, I tilted my head down and saw Eric below me motioning with his hand in front of his mouth like he was holding a drink.
The back of my throat and tongue ached, I was actually parched. I hopped down and followed him over to the bar. The crowd had thinned considerably; we only had to wait five minutes. There were tables available, at last. We brought our waters and drinks and, for the first time in hours, I sat. I leaned forward and opened my mouth to tell him that I thought Jasper was here, but at the last minute I decided to keep quiet. He might feel the need to drag me out of there before I did something rash. The specific thought of doing something rash was what lent a special charge to the air. Maybe I could drink enough to give me the guts to tell him to his pale face what I thought of him again, or figure out what he was doing there. Was he plotting something I needed to worry about? I felt a strong surge of excitement at the thought that I didn't care.
After finishing my water in one long, cold gulp, I went back and got another. When I looked back to the table, Eric was making circles in the air, he was ready to go. I thought about my project up in the balcony. I turned my head and
I stopped moving, turning my head to get a better look. I must have been losing my mind, or projecting something from the night's events; the schmuck above me looked just like Jasper Caldwell. I knew it! He was gay. What would he be doing here, didn't he have to go to bed early?
Then I remembered the woman in Montana. No matter, what a rush to have this attention on me, if it was him—fuck it—even if it wasn't. The fantasy was fun anyway.
Maybe he was a masochist and enjoyed having women scream at him. How had he found me here if that was the case? I remembered Barbara watching me, but didn't know what she would gain from bringing him here. I felt the small glow one feels when someone says something that makes sense, and you don't want to admit you like to hear it. Part of me wanted to get away, flip him off, go up there and tell him off, but I was feeling too good.
Vlad held me in front of him, and my thighs were screaming from holding myself back this far. I held tighter to his thick arms and pulled myself up as slowly as I could. Cool air washed across my stomach. My top had fallen back and the skin was exposed. Vlad wrapped one arm around my back, then with one hand traced his forefinger along the line of my pants, sending a lazy zing of sensation from my groin to my toes and back again.
A hard beautiful man held me and I was the center of the universe. Unlike these situations with straight men, I didn't have to feel guilty for giving them the wrong idea or anything else that would justify them beingan asshole later on. I straightened the rest of the way up, in time to the beat of the vaguely Latin rhythm until we were both face to face, still feeling the eyes on the back of my head. I slid my arms around Vlad's slick shoulders, moving behind so that I could now face the form watching me from above.
I bore my eyes into the darkness above me. Then when a song came on that I loved from years ago, I broke my gaze and danced with abandon, movement coming from my waist, dictating the movements of the rest of my limbs. At some point Vlad slipped away, and I was on my own again.
For what could have been hours but felt like minutes, I was completely lost. There was nothing like this. A warm pair of hands wrapped around my ankles, I tilted my head down and saw Eric below me motioning with his hand in front of his mouth like he was holding a drink.
The back of my throat and tongue ached, I was actually parched. I hopped down and followed him over to the bar. The crowd had thinned considerably; we only had to wait five minutes. There were tables available, at last. We brought our waters and drinks and, for the first time in hours, I sat. I leaned forward and opened my mouth to tell him that I thought Jasper was here, but at the last minute I decided to keep quiet. He might feel the need to drag me out of there before I did something rash. The specific thought of doing something rash was what lent a special charge to the air. Maybe I could drink enough to give me the guts to tell him to his pale face what I thought of him again, or figure out what he was doing there. Was he plotting something I needed to worry about? I felt a strong surge of excitement at the thought that I didn't care.
After finishing my water in one long, cold gulp, I went back and got another. When I looked back to the table, Eric was making circles in the air, he was ready to go. I thought about my project up in the balcony. I turned my head and
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