Reverence - Book 2

- 13 -

Red lipstick looked the best on the rim of cheap vodka bottles. 

That barely there hem looked even better on Svetlana. 

I leaned against her, bracing together by our shoulders as the stammer of the club thumped around us. 

Those skyscraper legs were carefully balanced on 7 inch stilettos, the deep cowl of her neckline as short as the dress itself. Her wild brown eyes were hooded, swirling with a sultry fire. 

Her hands slithered around my hips, steadying her boozy swaying. I grasped her wrists, a giggle bubbling up over my lips. 

Svetlana was a force, energy radiating off of her like stiff heat from the sun. We had been scurrying between bars and dance floors all night, a bottle between us and a flask tucked safely into her purse for added measure. 

The moon was hanging low in the sky, it's heavy eyes threatening to close and soon it would be replaced by the fresh face of the sun. 

As the last reverberance of bass shuddered through our legs, the house lights came up and a collective sigh washed over the tightly packed crowd. 

Her hand came to mine, and I was being pulled through the swimming people. They parted around us, the cat calls carrying low in the hum of them. I could feel curious fingers brushing against my body as I was whipped by. 

I was too sauced to care. 

The cool night prickled against my sweat slick skin. Svetlana dropped my hands and let out a whimsical laugh, twirling carelessly on the walk. 

"Shlyukha, let's keep this night burning!" 

I chuffed, scarping my hair back from my neck, letting the night breeze kiss along of my skin. 

"We have rehearsal in the morning you bat shit. Ingrid will have our tits if we are hungover." 

She raised her middle finger to me, taking a hearty swig of the nearly empty bottle. 

"Impossible to be hungover when you are still drunk!" 

The last of the crystal liquor passed her lips and she tossed away the bottle, it shattering like a million stars in the empty street. 

The toe of her heel stuttered against the jut of the sidewalk and she stumbled forward, steadying herself against a dark cab. A sober wax fell over me, and I came to her now. I placed an arm around her tiny waist and leaned her against my body.  

Over the sterile smell of vodka, a careful waft of lilies and amber circled us. Her hair was downy and it tickled across my cheeks. 

"It seems wise to turn in, wouldn't you suppose?" 

I said quietly, steering her in the direction of the penthouse. 

We rambled on the deserted walks, with only the noises of the way-off traffic and her slow out of time hums to Molchat.

The street lights had begun to dim, and the showing rays of morning sun broke through the black sky. 

Ready or not, the light was coming. 

After two tries, I had managed to scramble my key into the tumbler. My eyes were heavy, refusing to focus. It was like seeing under water. Murky. 

Svetlana all but fell into the room, Her hands catching her crashing on the jamb of the door. I pulled her flailing body onto the couch where she crumpled, head lolling back onto the cushions in a silent relief. 

Her hair spread around her like a fractured halo. 

I hoisted her spindly legs into my lap and released the straps of her heels and banished them to the corner behind the door. I left her juxtaposed onto me and I leaned back beside her, watching as the baroque ceiling came spinning dizzily down onto me.