I arrived at On The Edge early,
barely after sunset, and although there
were already people on the dance floor, the crowd was nothing compared
to what I had seen the previous week. I ordered a cocktail at the bar
on the ground level and went down one staircase to stand on one of the
suspended bridges. I sipped on the drink slowly, my eyes on the dancers
beneath me but I wasn’t really seeing them. Instead, I was remembering,
yet again, what had happened on that night a week earlier, how Anando
had reached toward me, what it had been like to dance with him, what
his hands had felt like on me, first on the dance floor, then when he
had taken me home and undressed me. The white chest. The toys. The
scarves. His cock. His fangs.
Slow sips turned into larger gulps, and it wasn’t long before I
returned to the bar to get another drink. A different bartender took my
order, tall and dark-haired, his eyes so dark they seemed completely
black. He didn’t say a word, but I could practically feel his gaze
caressing my neck where Anando had bitten me.
I made a decision at that moment. Whatever happened, it couldn’t go
that far again, I had to stay in control. And I finally knew what toy I
would choose for that. I paid for the drink and left to return to my
observation point. This time when I scanned the dance floor and its
growing crowd, I could actually see the people down there, and I
started looking for darker skin and fluid movements. I wanted to see
Anando first; I was certain that having a few moments to compose myself
before I went to him would help me hold on to my resolve to remain in
control.
The feel of a light hand brushing against my exposed shoulders startled
me enough that I spilled some of my drink over my hand when I whirled
back.
“It took you long enough to come back,” Anando said, a small smile
playing on his lips. “I was beginning to think I scared you.”
I wanted to say something—something funny, or clever, or anything at
all really—but to see him again like this, without warning, had my
heart trying to break free from my chest and my mouth too dry to speak.
He looked even sexier than the first time I had seen him, if that was
possible, with a silky black shirt open halfway down his chest, framing
the smooth expanse of his dark honey chest. I wanted to touch him. I
was sure his skin would be softer even than the silk of his shirt. But
he winked at me, and without another word he was striding away, going
down to the dance floor. It took me a little while to realize that,
seeing how my mind had blanked out when my eyes fell on his ass,
tightly encased in leather pants that left very little to the
imagination.
... continued in Out
of the Box 2
Credits - Contact -
© Kallysten 2010
