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That man. His touch. His voice. His body.
My god.
Being in his arms was like some sort of drug, except I’m not sure you can get anything like that, even in the blackest of markets.
It’s why I had to run away. All the way upstairs. As far as I could go without outright leaving. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to control myself if I stayed a moment longer.
“Warm towel?”
I look over at the bathroom attendant, who is a smiley woman, hidden behind a mask made of flower petals. God, what is thethemetonight anyway? Things you find in nature? This is ridiculous! “No, I’m good. I’m just…hot.”
“Mm. Here. You need a wipe.” She holds out a little wipe packet to me, her smile never fading for a second.
“Thank you.”
“Here, sit, sit. Take a rest.” She guides me to a poofy ottoman in the middle of the room and sits me down.
I feel like I’m some sort of nineteenth-century maiden, the way she’s treating me. As if I can’t stand upright and might suffer a fainting spell anytime now.
Once I’m settled on the ottoman, I split open the packaging on the wipe and pat my face and neck. The cool, cucumber-melon-infused wipe brings down the heat level inside me. Thank god.
When I’m done, I take stock of my surroundings for the first time.
The bathroom is just as lush and beautiful as every other part of the club.Why am I not surprised?Gilded crown molding, marble sinks, crimson carpet, mirrors that I swear you could step through to walk centuries into the past.
I could stay here the rest of the night.
And I just might if it will help me stay out of the gaze of the Phoenix.
Don’t get me wrong, I want him. I was dancing with him after all, letting our bodies drift closer and closer together until we all but became one.
However. That’s not why I’m here.
That man doesn’t look like a mere guest of the club. He walks around like owns the place. I don’t want him to spread rumors about the unprofessional manager to other members.
But just because we can’t see the top half of everyone’s face doesn’t mean we wouldn’t be able to recognize them in the light of day.
The attendant touches my hand. “You can take off your mask.” She has a kind smile. “I won’t tell.”
That might be just what I need. Sweat is building up under the layer of the mask.
Whoever made these cares much more about the aesthetic and less about how it feels to wear them.
“Thank you.” I slide the mask up over my face. And just like that, I can breathe again. The air cools my skin. I pad the sweat away with the wipe. “Gets stuffy in there, doesn’t it?”
From behind me, a toilet flushes.
As I turn around, another maskless woman emerges. She smiles when she sees me, eyes widening. “It’s you!”
I point to myself, looking between her and the attendant. “M-me?”
She giggles and goes to wash her hands. “I’ve been seeing you around, wondering who the hell you are.”
Her eyes flick up to meet mine in the mirror, an astonishing combination of blue and green. Pouty lips, pert nose, big eyes. She’s the definition of everything I’ve ever wanted to look like.
The only thing we have in common is our dark hair, although hers is closer to brown than black.
Mine is raven, through and through.
