PROLOGUE: HOW WE MET
I step into the club and am greeted with the strong smell of alcohol and human sweat. I wrinkle my nose slightly but don’t care. With a grin I walk up to the bar. A song is playing that i recognize and I begin humming the tune until the bartender is in front of me, cleaning a glass
“What’ll it be, Miss?”
“The usual,” I reply. The man puts the glass he’d been cleaning away and puts a different one in front of me, then fills it with a lovely clear liquid. I smile.
“Thanks, Ben,” I say, looking innocent. He smiles back and goes to another person along the bar.
I grab my glass and turn around on my barstool. The establishment is full tonight - there isn’t an inch of the place not filled by human flesh. The song plays loudly over the speakers about the room, exciting me. What will happen tonight? Will I go home with someone? Will I bring someone home with me?
I down the contents of my glass, wincing as I swallow, the liquid burning everything it touches. I shiver sharply and the pit of my stomach feels warm. I lean back, my elbows on the bar, as I examine the room. There are people dancing to the music in the middle of the floor, people at the bar, and people sitting at tables about the club. I examine each and every person, looking for someone to . . . enjoy myself with.
I spot a guy with green streaks in his hair and become intrigued until I see that he’s with a blue-haired girl. I see a girl wearing a black tank top that looks appealing until I see a man behind her, holding her hips.
I down another drink the bartender gives me and heave a sigh from the sharp burns it brings. I lean back more comfortably and decide to dance. In the middle of the floor I proceed to moving my hips with the music and appearing seductive. The skimpy, black, low cut shirt and tight jeans help to accentuate my curves. I briefly fear that my makeup will run from the heat in the place but ignore the concern; I’m having too much fun.
People are moving around me, swaying to the tune, enjoying themselves as well. I feel bodies against mine, flesh touch flesh. The contact excites me more and I get more involved in my movements. But the song abruptly changes to something more intimate. I slow down and suddenly feel hands on my hips, gripping tightly. A delightful scent reaches my nose and I almost sigh from the feeling the aroma gives me. Whoever is holding me moves with my body, pelvis against my backside. I breathe in deeply, becoming more intoxicated every second, by the vodka, the scent behind me, the music, and the movements of the room.
Eventually I become tired of dancing and go to get another drink.The person who had been holding me follows me, and takes a seat next to me at the bar. He’s a man of probably twenty-three, with dark hair that falls over his eyes. He stares at me through his bangs, his eyes a lovely blue color, and a smile dances on his lips.
He’s very attractive. Jackpot.
I tip back another glass of vodka, used to the burn now, and turn to the man.
“Hello,” I say, my voice enticing.
He lets out a slow small chuckle, his head resting on his hand, his elbow propped on the bar. “Hi.”
His voice distracts me from making a charming comment, so that a stupid, “you smell good” is my response.
I see flicker of something in his eye, but am too inebriated to bother with it. He turns his gaze away from me for a moment to order a drink; I don’t hear his order over the music.
“So, what’s your name?” He asks me.
I pause. “Anna,” I say.
He smirks. “Well, Anna, about this music . . .”
