5Warning: Same as usual guys, you must be over 18 to read this, but no gay stuff this time.
One
The music pulsed through the club. A wall off air that thrummed against my lungs, tickled my ears and vibrated my bones. I leant against the wall behind me, it was moist with sweat in the darkness. My long bare legs were up on the grubby satin bench I sat across, a bottle of lager clutched by the neck between the fingers of my left hand. My right propped up my chin as I stared out at the dance floor. I wanted to dance, but I had no one to do so with, so I stared out across the throbbing mass of bodies and tapped my toe to the beat against the red velvet seat.
My gaze caught on a set of eyes turned my way, which was odd in itself. In this place, at this time of night, eyes did not catch on anything, they stared in drunken wonder at nothing, sliding over the world beyond the dance floor as if at that minute it did not exist. But those eyes stared at me, dark and wide, the flashing light catching on the bright whiteness that framed them, making the fact they were turned in my direction all the more obvious. I returned the look over the back of my bench, a slight smile catching the corner of my mouth for a second, acknowledging those eyes, before my weary tour of the dancers returned to its uninterrupted flow. My toes tapped, I really liked this song, I took another swig of my beer. The last warm and flat mouthful slid over my tongue.
Arching my back I slid along the once red brushed satin of the bench. I wove my way through the light crush of people that lingered up here near the booths. I ignored the voices directed in the direction of my short denim shorts that just hugged the smooth cup of my buttocks.
'Can I get you a drink love?' I didn't turn to see which of the drunk men at the bar addressed me as I arrived at the front of the mass queuing for the barkeeps attention. I waved over at said barkeep – Rodger – who was topping up a quintuplet of triple vodka's with a shot of something that looked like coke. He plucked a Peroni from the fridge behind him without pausing the flow of brown pop, opened it with one hand and slid it down the bar into my waiting hand. I shot my would be 'gentleman' a tight smile, noting his glazed eyes and the splash of beer – or possibly jaeger from the smell of him – down the front of his shirt. Then wove my way back to my booth and resumed my surveillance of the dance floor.
Those eyes caught mine again. They were like an ocean of calm in the mass of chaos. I focused out, taking in the face they looked from. He was pleasantly handsome, smooth skin and dark hair, clean shaven, an expensive looking shirt fit him well. I realised he was dancing, not the writhing of the rest of the dance floor, he and his partner actually seemed to be dancing to the music. I watched their feet move in quick precise steps, their bodies swayed together, an odd lull of space appeared around them as the drunken dancers gave them the room they deserved. A few other people had stopped to watch; mostly females, drooling lusty looks glazing their eyes as even through their drunken haze they considered the dancing man attractive. He made it look so easy, especially considering he was staring at me the whole time. I sniggered to myself, broke the eye contact and took down the first two inches of my beer.
A couple dropped a pair of shot glasses on the end of my table, their hands clumsy as they rushed to touch each other again. Their lips locking in a moist smacking sound. I watched, faintly disgusted by the drunken display and then returned my gaze to my preferred show. The dancers were like people watching on acid. The alcohol and adrenaline making them slightly mad, reducing them to their base desires. Flesh met flesh as girls tottered on heals, and guys flexed toned arms to impress the ladies, groups downed shots and paused for the odd un-gainly mass photo, pulling disgruntled groans from those around them who were lost in their own beats.
Those eyes again. I skimmed over him, surprised his gaze was still turned in my direction. The girl he danced with was stunning, her slim hourglass body contoured in a black and bright white body-con dress that reached her knees yet didn't seem to hinder her dancing at all, it was like a second skin. Her face was naturally beautiful, highlighted with subtle makeup, her hair pulled back off her face. The girls and women around him were not a bad selection either, in their short skirts and platform shoes there was plenty to avert his gaze from my direction. Still he met my eye, no flicker of a smile, or anything so brash, but I was so certain he was staring up at me. It began to irritate me, I wasn't used to being surveyed in return, and every time my gaze swept over the crowd his eyes flickered up and met mine for that brief second. Annoyed I stopped my people watching and turned my attention to the bar instead.
I saw the bald head of Rodger moving amongst the other bar men and women as they sweated to keep up with the constant demand for more and more spirits. It would be another hour before it was quiet enough for any of them to sign off for the night, and this week it was not Rodger's turn. I gave him a little wave as his dark brown eyes flicked my direction, a momentary smile for me, and then he was back to business. Rodger owned the majority share in this heaving club, and definitely did not need to work behind the bar, but once a week he donned his worst designer jeans and cheapest shirt and joined his employees pulling weak beer and dolling out almost illegal vodka. Each to their own I guess.
'You look lonely, luv.' I inwardly sighed and turned my dark gaze up to the drunken face of the man who had spoken. I realised with some dismay that it was the jaeger smelling lad from the bar, three of his friends behind him. 'Mind if we have a seat?' he gestured towards the bench where my feet rested, already moving to sit down. I left my legs where they were – a bright splash of pale flesh against the dark red below – forcing him to pause half way into the seat. He lost his balance, and stumbled slightly into one of his mates, proving how far gone he was.
'Actually, I do,' I answered slowly, meeting the eye of the man who had addressed me. I wondered if Rodger would notice them from behind the bar, and if he did whether he would have a chance to come over and help. 'And I am not lonely, so go enjoy yourselves.'
'Well, we thought we might enjoy ourselves in your company,' he slurred, one of the men behind him laughed under his breath, and it spluttered to an end with a snort. His eyes were dark and dangerous, and I wondered what exactly they thought they were going to get away with in the packed club with a girl who had only had three bottled beers. I downed the rest of my lager – to prevent anything from being slipped in it and force me to waste it – and let the bottle clink against my two other empties on the table beside me. My now free hand slipped to the leg of my shorts, where my mobile was tucked into my pocket. I unlocked it with one hand, without bringing it up from by my thigh – they were clearly chest guys not leg guys as their eyes were fixed firmly south of my eyes despite my distinct lack of cleavage. I pressed the shortcut combo for the bouncers, my index finger hovering over the send button as I waited to see what these idiots were going to try.
'Hey, Hun, got you a fresh one.'
I stared – my dark blue eyes wide and surprised – as the staring man from the dance floor barged through the group of would be lechers. He took a swig out of the top of a bottle of Peroni then handed it to me. 'Interest,' he clarified with a grin as he pressed the neck of the bottle between my fingers. I'm not sure why I took it. Then his hands wrapped round my ankles and lifted my legs so he could sit next to me on the bench. He plonked himself down, draped my legs over his lap, and let his surprisingly cool hands rest against the flesh of my ankles as he clinked his own beer bottle against the one I was now dumbly holding and took a swig.
'Can I help you guys?' he asked coolly, as he turned those intense eyes – they appeared murky green in the flashing darkness of the club – to glare at the foursome still assembled at the mouth of my booth. Their drunkenness took him in, he was tall and clearly worked out; muscles swam beneath the expensive cotton of his shirt. He was immaculately dressed, cool and composed, I found myself noticing a splash of mud across the toe of his high top trainers, and thought neither the shoe or the mud looked right, they seemed threatening somehow. The other men shook their heads in mute defeat and backed off.
'I didn't need any help,' I made my voice droll as I put the bottle he'd given me down next to my empties.
'You watched me drink out of that,' he didn't respond to my jibe, but turned his eyes to the bottle. 'Come on, I didn't have you down as one to waste good lager.'
I picked the bottle up and took a swig, 'I know the bouncers here, there are three people they'll let me get in a taxi with, you're not one of them.'
The man shrugged, 'good job I didn't waste any gear then.'
We stared at each other across the bench, I slid my phone back into my shorts. His hand was still resting against my skin. The cool flesh of his palm was a shock of sensation against my anklebone, and his thumb slid smoothly against the arch of my foot, back and forth. It was slow, almost soothing, but somehow sent a shiver up my spine.
'Can you stop that please,' I broke the silence that wasn't silence, shouting to be heard against the throbbing beat of the music. He shrugged.
'I can stop,' – he didn't – and I arched a single eyebrow at him as his thumb continued to cares my foot.
'Then will you, please.'
He shook his head and grinned. With a sigh I sat up from against the wall, going to pull my feet from off him. His hand wrapped around the slim flesh of my ankle, pulled them across him, so that suddenly I was being tugged down the seat. My balance went and I ended up sprawling on my back, staring up into a pair of grinning dark eyes as my beer sloshed out of the bottle and over my hand – it was a miracle I didn't spill the whole thing. One hand of my suspicious saviour still held my ankle, the other slid gently around my neck, and is thumbs made matching paths against the arch of my foot and the crook of my neck. I held my breath, because it had caught in my throat and a surge of heat rose through me, focusing in my cheeks, chest and thighs.
'I'm Julius,' he breathed into my ear, planting a kiss on my cheek. The world slowed and all I could hear was the strangely slow thrum of my heart and my distastefully breathy breathing. His face rose up around mine, and I watched as he calmly missed my lips by a matter of millimetres and pressed a kiss on my other cheek.
'What are you doing?' I managed to choke the words out. My throat and head were a mess of warring emotions as I stared up into his face.
'Isn't this what you wanted?' he dropped his head and pressed his lips into the crook of my neck. I swallowed down the moan that tried to accompany the fierce flash of pleasure that surged from the contact. 'You've been staring at me all night.'
I managed to force out a little laugh, impressed with myself at how normal it sounded. The hand that had been on my ankle was sliding up my leg, leaving a pleasantly cool trail of sensation behind him. He stopped as he heard my laugh – my head and heart had a little disagreement about whether that was a good thing – I focused on his face, and tried to shuffle away – not so I could see more than his very handsome features, honestly.
'I wasn't watching you, I was just watching the dancers, and every time I looked your way you were looking at me. So don't give me that crap.' I had to shout to be heard over the music, even at that distance, and I realised with some relief that I could hear it again. I wiggled my hand between us, resting my palm against his chest and pushing him away from me. He could have resisted easily – I'm hardly a gym bunny, although I do run five times a week but that's just to burn off all the cake I eat – but he let me push him back to a sitting position and allowed me to do the same.
'I think you got the wrong idea,' I shouted as I wiggled back to sit against the wall once again. As I moved his hand slid back down the skin of my leg and ended its journey where it had begun; against my ankles. I gave my heart a poor consolation prize and left my legs where they were, obligingly his thumb returned its playful circle against the arch of my foot. His eyes watched mine with an odd mixture of surprise and wry amusement.
'Indeed, with shorts like those I didn't expect you to be one to play hard to get.'
I gave him a small flicker of a dry smile, 'well they're not for you, they're for my boyfriend.'
Finally full surprise broke over his face, his eyes glancing around the room, searching for this mystery man.
'Well, that is odd, I certainly wouldn't leave you sitting her by yourself all night if you were mine,' he said when he came up with nothing and finally turned back to me.
'He's the DJ,' I explained, my gaze flitting up to the Perspex lined booth where the shadow of Kip was surrounded by the silhouettes of groupies asking for song requests. I went up there sometimes, but the lights and the girls irritated me, and I think Kip didn't like it much either. So here I sat, waiting for his set to end at 2pm. Before we had been an item we would dance to the last two hours of music before heading home, but these days when he found me he was already too drunk to stand straight, never mind dance, and we headed straight back to my flat, where he passed out and drooled on my bed sheets. I stayed anyway, because sometimes there would be friends of mine to while away the hours with, or Rodger. Besides, I owned a share in this dive too, and I figured if I wasn't willing to work the damn bar, I should at least keep an eye on it.
'You do surprise me, you don't look like the groupie type.'
'So where's your girlfriend?' I ignored his jibe. 'Is she the type to get turned on watching you seduce other women? Or has she gone home.' He gave a short laugh, and the mirth managed to make him still more attractive, I sipped on my beer to distract myself.
'You mean Jessie?' he sniggered as if the very thought was ludicrous and waved a hand back over his shoulder towards the dance floor. 'She's probably off seducing some kid with fake ID in the toilets somewhere.'
I raised a wry eyebrow, my earlier comment had been made in jest, I'd assumed he was just cheating, but maybe those kinds of couples did exist outside of London. He caught my look and shook his head slowly, a dazzlingly attractive smirk curling the corner of that soft mouth, 'she is definitely not my girlfriend.
'You want to dance?' he asked.
I started, realising I had been staring at him, lost in the glow of the music and the soothing sensation of his hand against my foot. I tried to collect myself, then moistened my suddenly dry throat with the last of my beer as I imagined dancing with him; my thoughts had no trouble imagining where those hands would be.
I glanced at my watch, surprised at the time, I only had fifteen minutes before Kip finished his set, how long had this guy been here? I couldn't believe how ridiculous I was being; I'm twenty-four hardly some untouched sixteen year old virgin to sway at the knees because of a few kisses and a bit of an illicit grope. Also I had a boyfriend, and while it was hardly likely that Kip had noticed any of this someone else I knew might have. Guilt churned in my stomach, overruling the pleasant wash of pleasure that had swelled there moments before.
I shook my head, 'sorry, mind if you let me out?' I shuffled forwards and started to swing my legs down from the chair. Something like a sigh slid out from between his lips. He wrapped one hand back around my ankle, then he leant forwards and scooped the other against the curve of my bum. He picked me up like I was nothing more than a doll, and dropped my on his knee. An outraged bust of laughter spluttered from my lips.
He grinned at me, the lusty smile replaced by genuine amusement. His hand tapped my ass as he lifted me again and dropped my on his other side, so that my legs were hanging free over the edge of the booth.
'At your service.' I looked back over my shoulder at him, he was relaxed now, leaning back against the booth, his arms lining the sides. My ankle felt oddly cool.
'That wasn't exactly what I had in mind,' I said, Julius simply shrugged, un-phased.
'You got a name, before you return to that foolish music boy of yours?' he asked pleasantly enough.
I hesitated, my name paused on the edge of my lips. He seemed to realise and laughed, raising his voice over the sound of the music as the song broke, 'come on, you think I'm a stalker or something? I can tell you, you need two names to look someone up.'
Still, I hesitated as I sat on the edge of the bench, twisted slightly to keep him in my sights.
'I did save you from those guys?' he pressed, managing to not sound pushy despite his demands.
'I didn't need saving,' I said with a small roll of my eyes. 'But my names Leuce,' I answered anyway, a little rueful.
'Loose?' he pronounced it wrong but I let it go. 'Unusual name,' he mused, watching me as though it gave him some deeper insight. 'Shame that café chain already took Lucid, eh? Would have been a good tag for you if you were starting you own business.' He grinned and I looked back at him, letting an ironic smile curl one side of my mouth as I cocked an eyebrow, and waited for the penny to drop. Leuce really was not a common name.
'Oh,' he mused as he gave me another once over and whistled lightly through his teeth, the sound was lost in the hum of dance music. His eyes dropped down over my slim figure; my skin-tight grey top met the waistband of my denim shorts with not even a hint of a muffin-top on my shapely hips – I saved those for the café.
'Somehow I expected you to be more … homely,' he said with a hint of appreciation.
I shrugged and finished the last swig of my lager, 'I get that a lot. Anyway, thanks for before and for the beer. See you around maybe.' I stood, feeling oddly self conscious as I did so. I resisted the temptation to pull the back of my shorts down and wove my way quickly through the edge of the crowd, to loose myself in the blissful anonymity of the drunken horde.
I pressed my way through the queue of request givers, ignoring the bitchy comments and complaints as I did so. I gave the bouncer outside Kip's booth a quick wave and smile and ducked through the door, pulling it shut behind me.
'Hey sexy,' Kip's drunken drawl slithered into my ears as his hands found my waist, pulling me against him. I found myself with a weird sensation of lust and guilt. He planted a slow wet kiss on my lips, and I wondered if tonight I might be able to keep him conscious when we got home. He released me suddenly, leaving me reeling, as he turned to mix the start of the next track.
Even drunk he was good, and the songs changed seamlessly. I looked down towards the dance floor. My eyes were drawn to a flash of bright white. Jessie he'd called her, she was dancing with a boy who I had to agree had probably gotten in here with fake ID. He was enthralled by the writhing mass of shapely woman who danced next to him though. My eyes carried on their journey, I knew what I was doing, but I couldn't stop myself.
Julius was still in the booth, he had taken up my seat, propped against the wall, one of his hands was wrapped around the neck of a bottle, and a couple of empty shot glasses had joined my pile of empties. On the other side of the booth a couple were making out, but his eyes were turned this way. From the dance floor you couldn't see more than a vague silhouette through the Perspex that lined the DJ booth, I knew that well enough, but you could see out. Kip wrapped his arms around me from behind, and pressed sloppy kisses against the crook of my neck; over writing the imprint of the previous lips that had been there. Part of me wished he would stop.
His hand slid down over the barely covered cup of my ass cheeks and round between my legs. His fingers skimming over the barely there crotch of my short shorts, and up towards the lace of my pants. He groaned against my neck as he felt how wet they were.
'Shit Leuce,' with his free hand his punched in a quick code into his laptop, setting a couple of songs on auto load. I had a few moments to wonder what the hell I was doing, and then fingers of his other hand slipped passed my pants, sliding up my wet crack, collecting the juices that pooled there on their way to my clit. I moaned silently as he rubbed me, pressing me down over the counter. His other hand worked the button of my shorts, tugging them down to my knees. I arched back into him as he broke the contact with my clit. The he was back and I felt something hot shoving my pants out of the way, pressing against my opening. His dick slid in with embarrassing ease; I was so wet. He pressed a hand over my lips as I moaned in pleasure at the fire that wove out from where we connected.
Guilt and lust warred in my stomach. I watched out through the Perspex, meeting the gaze of Julius as Kip fucked me. I knew you couldn't see in, and no one would notice the dark pair of silhouettes moving together; unless you were looking. Julius's face was a dark mask of emotions as my sex contracted around Kip's. My orgasm was a bone weakening explosion, which fired down my legs and made me weak kneed. I held onto the desk as Kip pushed into my twice more, continuing the waves of dusky pleasure as he followed my lead and filled me with his essence.
'Shit Leuce,' he repeated as he pulled out of me. He scrabbled to find something to clean up the mess that pooled from me and down my legs. Shorts and public sex were not a great combination. He found a stack of napkins and I tidied myself up.
I felt weird. I hadn't cheated, I hadn't kissed Julius, and it had been my boyfriend I'd had sex with, yet I felt guilt churn in my stomach. It diminished the warm glow of my orgasm. I turned and gave Kip a quick kiss on the lips.
'I'm off, Kip,' my words pulled his attention back from his laptop, he frowned as he looked at the time.
'What? I've still got five minutes left Leuce.' I nodded and fastened my shorts. The whole debacle had taken less than ten minutes and the more my orgasm wore off the more disgusted with myself I was starting to feel.
'I know, but I need to go to work tomorrow, so …' his frown stayed put, and I sighed. 'I'm going home by myself, it's not a big deal.' Kip frowned but his attention was split between me and his job. He glanced away and I took the chance to back towards the door of his booth.
'I'll see you tomorrow evening,' I called, my hand already resting on the door knob.
'I've got a gig remember.' He muttered with his back to me. I hadn't remembered but I was starting to feel claustrophobic and the smell of sex and semen was making me nauseous.
'I'll call you on my break.' I mumbled back as tugged the door open and pressed through the now diminished queue of girls, the ones that were there called me all the names they could think off. I've heard it all before, but this was the first time it had really bothered me. I pressed through the dance floor, refusing to go near those booths. I pushed to the front on the cloakroom queue, ducked behind the counter and got my coat myself. I called a quick bye to the guy on duty and let the bouncers fold me into one of the waiting cabs. When I was home at last, I undressed, threw my clothes straight into the washing machine and turned it on despite the late hour. Then I got straight in the shower. I still felt dirty when I finally got into bed.
A/N: I found this in my stories folder, I wrote it last year, I'd kind of forgotten about it. It's not a masterpiece, still, thought I'd share it. Hope you enjoy.