Chapter 1 - Cobweb designed room for fornication

JULIA’S POV

“Drink! Drink! Drink!” strangers that I must have chatted the night away with or have never spoken to chanted behind me as I downed a glass of tequila barely squirming now at the foul taste because even though my vision wasn’t blurry and my best friend since we were on diapers didn’t have her hand draped around my waist to support my wobbling knees, I should know I was mightily wasted.

Styrofoam cups overfilled with strangely colored alcohol and a billow of smoke, evidence of the party favors that featured all kinds of hard drugs, hip-pop music with its resounding speakers blaring in the room making it hard for the simplest communication, and sweaty bodies grinding into each other wasn’t my typical scene.

My whole life had been about being flawless: the perfect grades, the perfect extracurricular activities, the perfect college, and now I was in law school, it was almost a joke that I was just learning a lesson that nobody should be that flawless.

And no less, while wearing a handkerchief of a dress and six inches stiletto grinding into Skylar who was as drunk as I was if not worse.

My phone buzzed and even in my drunk state I couldn’t help but worry if it was important since it had been going off incessantly for a long time now. I briefly tapped Julia and pointed towards what I hoped was the exit, she nodded probably because I was right or she was too wasted to care but I wobbled my way anyway toward that direction.

My phone has stopped ringing and the loud music was barely a whisper now as I approached the exit. A buff-looking man who looked scary and towered over me stood at the exit door making me peer at him wondering why he was blocking my entry. He looked me up and down with a hostile glare that made me feel ten times smaller despite the heels I had on. I wonder why the scrutiny was that much to leave than it was to go in because all Skye had done was flash pearly whites to cut the line and led us right in.

“Are you the dancer?”

I smiled. It seems like my dancing prowess will finally be acknowledged I thought to myself before I enthusiastically nodded.

He silently backed away from the door and still frowning at his cold disposal, I used the door expecting the chilly air to hit my face and help my journey to sobriety but was welcomed into a world of red-colored walls, women in fishnet stockings, lacey masks, and matching underwear holding a tray.

They are waitresses I think because a man wearing a suit just stopped one of them. He took a champagne flute off her tray and when I thought if he leered any harder at her I might get more than nauseated at the sight and throw up for real, she turned to leave and he hit her on her left ass cheek.

I held my breath waiting for the outburst, for her to threaten to sue him, for the manager to come running and see the need for the waitresses to wear actual clothes but she looked at him over her shoulder and curving a finger at him, gave him a sultry look.

He followed her with his arms around her while my mouth dropped open. I hope that I was seeing things because did they just enter a room together?

Stunned, I stumble farther trying to remember the door that had brought me into this strange place now frantic and desperate to be out already.

A lifetime should have passed or mere 3 minutes but I wouldn’t know the difference because I was seconds away from getting mad at this cobweb-designed room for fornication and embarrassing erotic moans of pleasure. I was just about to enter yet another weird space expecting a drunk man with a woman or women depending on the case allowing him to grope their asses while they dance provocatively around him but stopped in my tracks.

I saw his eyes before I took in his face.

He was sprawled on the couch fully dressed in a crisp white shirt that was loosely tucked into a suit trouser and from what I could see of the woman, even though her back was towards me she was decent too. I sighed in relief.  I leaned against the door not believing that I was thankful for the lighting of whatever this place was that allowed me to see them while shrouding me with darkness.

He looked like what I conjured amidst a pleasurable fantasy and if not for his cold turquoise eyes I would have called him perfect but he wasn’t that. He was something more.

He looked Ethereal.

Perfect full red lips, a pale impossibly flawless complexion contrasting against raven tousled black hair, an unbelievably sharp jawline, and a chin that was up in the air informing me he was important in case his dress shirt that looked nothing like what was snagged from a Target shop hadn’t given that away.

I wanted to believe that not drunk me would have ignored them and moved along regardless of how good-looking the man was. But there was something about him that transfixed me. So, I remained in the shadow glad for the blanket of darkness while a thrill of delight strummed within me at the possibility of listening in on a conversation that wasn’t meant for my ears. But to be fair, if they didn’t want anyone to overhear them, they should have picked somewhere more private I thought although it doesn’t get more private than a tavern of wasted and sex-crazed people.

“You shouldn’t be doing this especially not here,” he said with a gravelly masculine voice that sounded decadent even though there were traces of irritation in them.

“Why shouldn’t I?” she muttered and despite the jealousy that struck in my heart that was both confusing and scary, I couldn’t help but admit that even without seeing her, she was the kind of woman I will imagine a man like that to be next to.

Her voice reeked of class and gracefulness.

The sting of bitterness I felt at my thought was so scary even to me.

“This is no place for a woman like you, Rebecca,”

“Call me Becca,” she whined. “And I hate it when you act like my dad. You are only five years older! Besides, I am here only because you have been avoiding me and this was the one place I was sure you’d be at because of your sentimental attachment to it even though it is now below your alley,” she had a hint of disgust in her voice.

“What do you want?”

There was silence for a while between them before the female voice started rather tentatively.

“I called you relentlessly after the last time but you never picked up even once,”

“I had work,” he said with a bored drawl like he had done this for so long he had lost count and I was now sure that I had not been mistaken when I thought he had sounded irritated.

She sighed. “You’ll make time if you want to.”

“I don’t want to,” he answered while my eyes widened at his honesty.

“I love you, Damon.”

“So do 99 other ladies in any vicinity I found myself in,” and just like that, like every other man once they open their mouth long enough the appeal is lost.

I waited for him to look less good-looking, to be less intriguing, for me to frown and cuss at myself while walking away but there was something about his hooded eyes, his blank stare, the calmness in his voice amidst boredom that was transfixing and hot as fuck. And he didn’t look less good-looking too.

I heard a snort… no that was a sob. The woman he was talking to was crying now and from the look of things the handsome asshole looked even more irritated and nauseated by the sight.

“What should I do for you to want me?”

“Want you?” he scoffed. “Becca, we have been down that road. I wanted you, once. We slept together and that was it. You told me you understood when I told you that you and I will never happen.”

“But…”

“I have had a terrible day,” he eyed her with impatience now. “You should not be seen in here, especially with me. The wrong person seeing us together could blow this out of proportion given the setting of this room and what this place is for.”

“I can make you feel better.” She offered and given my position I wished that I didn’t see her hand massage the crotch of his trouser but I watched even while he grabbed her hand and with his eyes on her face fling it towards her.

“I am trying to be respectful, Becca so I am going to say this nicely and carefully,” he smirked showing off dimples that made me curse his filthy personality more. “Not in a million years, Becca. Not if you are the last woman in New York because that’s how averse I am to hitting that ass again.” He sat up and his voice took on an undertone that I would have found scary if directed at me. “And honestly, your desperation reeks so no matter how hard you throw yourself at me, I will never touch anything that looks like you again even with a tent pole.”