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“Jesus. You do the talking. I’ll do the backup singer routine. I’m good at it.”
“Fuck that. Have you looked around? There is so much potential here.” A black-haired, petite woman walks by in a dark blue dress that is about as short on top as it is on the backside. She and Wes lock eyes. “Yep,somuch potential. Last summer, I came here for some business meet and greet thing and had significant one-on-one time with a red-haired, suited executive. No one caught us. There’s a private area outside. It’s gold, man.”
“Public sex at a company function no less. Just when I think I’ve heard every story.”
“I know. I hit the grand slam. She’s fabulous. We see each other now and again.” Wes takes a long sip from his glass. “Ah, the lovely Hannah.”
“Then why are you still looking like a hungry college kid at a buffet?”
“Thisis the skill you have to learn, my friend. Keep your options open.”
Keep my options open, he says. Skill I have to learn, he says. “Take me being here as the win for tonight, Mav. Okay?”
“You got it as long as I see you put the ball in play. Sip on that cocktail and get your ass on the floor.”
His hang loose personality can be infectious. This is the last weekend of summer, and my new responsibilities start Tuesday. I’m not the president right now. I’m just Eli. I don’t have to know who he is to have a good time.
I sip down half my drink while I listen to the full version of Hannah and Wes. His animation makes me laugh. Everything is bigger, brighter, and bolder when he tells it. My mind wanders when a blonde in a white dress catches my eye from the center of the dance floor.
I can only catch glimpses, like images a camera would take. Moments. An arm stretched to the ceiling. An arch of her back as her hair floats to the back of her knees. That’s not like Hayley. First of all, she’s not that coordinated. Second, this is not the attention she likes. She’s a one-on-one type of person not a “Hey world, look at me” person.
I hold up a finger to get Wes to pause in an attempt to get a better look. Pressing my drink closer to my body, I weave into the crowd. My neck bends to the right then the left to see through the sea of raised arms, glasses, and bodies moving every which way.
Right when I think I’m going to break the circle to see the blonde, she moves. The whole circle moves. Finally, a space opens so I can blend into the spectators around her. I can finally say definitively this isn’t Hayley. The angel floating across the floor is a head taller than she is.
I take a few moments to appreciate everything about her under the disco lights that offer me better views. Her hair is a wild mess from tossing it side to side. Her arms make the most interesting shapes. They bend and contort in the most free-form ways.
Unlike many of the women here, she is fully covered. Her breasts peek out of her neckline but leave everything to theimagination. Her baby doll dress floats over her middle and the hem settles mid-thigh. Even when she spins, her boy shorts cover every curve beneath. Where I’d expect to find heels on her feet, there are white-on-white sneakers that allow her to move in ways I’ve never seen.
The club begins to jump again. A familiar tune to me begins to ring through the room. The DJ has put a house beat and mixed it together to a U2 classic, “With Or Without You”. The circle around her begins to widen except for me. I want to move closer. The pull of my favorite band and this beautiful woman keeps me planted.
I’m getting looks from people to my right and left. I don’t care. I give my nearly empty glass to a server trying to get from one bar to the other. This woman’s got me in a trance. Her mix of hip-hop with free-form contemporary is spellbinding, and I want a front row seat. She seems to know the song as well as I do. Her movement follows the lyric.
Bono tells us the thorn twists in our side, and she twists her whole body in my direction. As she does, I boldly step toward her. Her hand rises to my chest but stays a fraction away. She extends the other to meet it, then contracts her body back as her left foot slides in between mine.
Her fingers wrap over my rib cage on both sides, a finger at a time. They ripple up with each beat of the music. I reach for her torso, but she spins twice in my hands then presses tight against my body with her fingers splayed across my shoulder blades.
She’s delicate but solid. Her hair whips around and stops across my left shoulder. She rests her cheek over my heart. Her hands guide us both from behind to deeply sway to the music. I’m used to the formal dances my mother taught me. This isverydifferent. She’s leading. She’s pulling me toward her.
The deeper we get into the song, the less I realize there is anyone around us. I hear her slow methodical breathing as theundercurrent to the pulse of the music. We rock forward and back. She’s taking me on a ride. The lyric states she’s got me with nothing left to win or lose.
I don’t know if that’s true. I’m not a believer of fate. I don’t believe in love at first sight. However, I want to manipulate those lyrics to say I want to win myself back by losing myself in her. Her carefree aura is completely intoxicating, infinitely better than the Fireball still burning in my chest.
She spins again with her back engaging into my chest. This wild spirit pulls my hands around her. She slides her hands down my arms and weaves our fingers together. As she does, she stretches my left arm around to her belly and my right across her upper chest. It’s like she’s willing me to cage her in.
I feel my hands tremble as my fingers flex over her skin and press in. She gasps. I don’t know if that’s in response to her dance marathon or to my touch. Her mane is anchored between us, letting the skin of her neck glow in all the colors under the flashing lights. She has a small dark mark on the upper part of her collarbone. It’s a beacon calling for me.
I press my lips down on her skin. What feels like an electric shock runs from where we meet and rockets straight to my cock. I can feel it instantly grow between us. This time I know what the gasp is for. She rocks her hips back, grinding a little into me as her hand that was once over mine on her hip grips and tugs at the back of my neck.
As Bono fades into the distance and the EDM comes back in full force, my blonde whirlwind spins inside my arms again. The whirlwind isn’t limited to her physicality. Her eyes have a storm I couldn’t miss in the darkest of rooms. She cups my cheeks in her hands and pulls my lips down to hers.
I don’t even know her name, but I want her. I need her. Her lips are so inviting. I grip over her rib cage so hard, I fear I’m leaving bruises. I reach out for her bare arms. They’re a dampoasis. I want to drink off her in every way. I slide my hands up to her face, dragging my fingers in a slow lazy pattern over the apples of her cheeks.
She tastes like tequila and cherry mixed in a potent concoction. This beauty peels her lips away from mine then ghosts them up my cheek to my ear. “Follow me,” she whispers. Her hand slides down my arm away from my cheek now possessing my hand, giving it a gentle but firm invitation to do as she asks.
She passes Wes on the way out the door to the back patio. He watches her carefully. As this blonde beauty reaches the exit, she turns for me. Wes leans in but speaks loudly enough for her to hear him. “Get it, Goose. DoeverythingI would do.” I give him a subtle head shake as I pass. I don’t know what the next few minutes holds, but one thing I know for sure, I feel alive.
Chapter Nine
