Part 1: Chapter 1
“It’s tonight, I’m a venomous flower. After taking your soul, look what you made us do. A fire that will slowly put you to sleep (Fire). It’s so beautiful, it’s brutal. I bring the pain like...”
BIRDIE
It’s at this moment, the cascade of music gracefully weaves a rhythm through your body, elevating the intoxicating surge within your veins. It is a captivating elixir, with an irresistible allure. Your eyes gently shut, surrendering to the pull of the beat, compelling your body to sway in harmonious cadence.
Encircled by a pulsating wall of bodies, the collective energy displays a symphony of bumps, grinds, and synchronized motions. The warmth emanating from other dancers cast rays enveloping you in an ambient glow and your movements sync effortlessly with the resounding snare of the drums. Beads of sweat trace a path from your brow, along your hairline, and down your neck.
As the bass drops, the synthesizer elevates the pitch, and the rattle of the drums roll with your heart surging faster and faster. An inviting power of energy compels your body to move in harmony with the music, and you can’t help but pump and sway with increased intensity. Your feet respond to the infectious rhythm as you joyously leap up and down. The music keeps you moving freely; it feeds your energy. There is no true foot pattern. It’s just you and the dance floor, an unbridled expression of movement and self.
Music is my life. I dream it. I breathe it. When I see dancers transport their bodies to the beat from jumping to making love on the dance floor and back again, I know I’ve got them hooked with just the right stamina. My holy grail, as with every night, is to keep the tempo moving, the bodies flowing, and the records spinning. I command the decks, skillfully blending tracks to keep the crowd’s energy soaring.
I love making music. It’s one of the most accomplished things I have fulfilled in my life. I’ve been DJing in the Empire City for years, starting from small house parties to gigs at local bars. Now, I find myself at the helm of the music scene at The Warehouse, one of the hottest clubs downtown.
The Warehouse lives up to its name. Originally a warehouse building, it has been transformed into a vibrant restaurant and nightclub. From the outside, the unassuming façade wouldn’t hint at the energetic pulse that throbs within. But step inside, and you’re greeted by a space that perfectly embodies the industrial chic aesthetic. The high ceilings boast exposed metal rafters that seem to reach for the stars, and scaffolding repurposed as shelves line the steel walls. Industrial furniture decorates the open spaces, and the cement floors bear the dusty remnants of the day, a testament to the constant flow of feet.
The club pulsates with life on weekend nights. The crowd is a diverse mix of people, united by their love for music and desire to lose themselves in the rhythm. Tonight, the energy is electric. The dance floor is packed, and the bodies are moving in a mesmerizing blur.
My set wraps up shortly after the bar closes and I take my time, casually nursing a beer, talking with the servers while some cash out their tips. Sipping slowly on my drink, I relish the smooth and cloudy taste with notes of toffee and clove. It is a moment of quiet satisfaction, a chance to savor the success of the night.
“Great set tonight, Birdie!”
“Thanks, guys. I’ll see you later!” I reply with a genuine smile and wave as a small group of servers take their leave.
A few others stay and chat for a couple minutes about the night before they excuse themselves to head home. I glance around the room, taking in the scene. The last of the stragglers are filtering out, and the cleaning crew is starting to set up. A sense of contentment washes over me as the night winds down.
The squeal of the metal chair moves with me as I turn to face Finn as he cleans under the bar and wipes the metal top.
“You had a good crowd tonight. What’s the rest of the weekend look like for you?” he asks, straightening up and giving me a lopsided grin.
“Oh, not much...just the usual grind – more work,” I say with a sigh.
A secret thrill courses through me at the thought of seeing him again. Internally, I’m already formulating a plan to free up some time, hoping for an opportunity to extend the night’s magic.
“But I am honestly hoping I can take this opportunity to chug the rest of this and then have you take me back to your place.” I tip my glass toward him, with a playful glint in my eyes.
Finn lets out a low chuckle. “Then you better hurry up and drink.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
I lick my lips after my last sip of the wheat ale that lingers on my mouth. Finn gives me a wink and heads to the back with my empty glass.
“That man’s love muscle must be a-dick-ting.”
I jump from my seat and bite my tongue.
“Damnit. Parker! I thought you clocked out for the night.” My face winces from the sting of the bite.
“I’m just about to take off. I want to bid adieu. The music was on fire, girl.”
Parker is one of my best friends and she’s never one to shy away from saying exactly what perverted thing is on her mind. She is a glam queen, always wearing fun shades of lipstick on her full pouty lips and long eyelashes enhancing her chocolate brown eyes.
She loves music as much as me, but her true passion is fashion. Parker can do no wrong when it comes to that subject making trash bags look like any girl’s dream prom dress.
We met while we were taking some certificate courses together at a local community college, basic music theory and composition. Our teacher was explaining how specific music can bring lovers together and utilize emotions in our writing style.
She interrupted, “Why use music? When your girl wants to ‘F’ you, ‘B flat’ and make her scream, Amen!”
I was the only one that laughed, and we got kicked out; went to a bar instead.
“Your man is looking fine tonight, too.” Parker gives me a little nudge.
“He’s not my man…” I respond shaking my head, “...but he is something.”
I couldn’t agree more about how fine Finn is. He’s got that bad boy swagger that makes you want to sink your teeth into your lips. He consistently wears dark blue worn jeans, that mold the contours of his legs. Paired with these denim companions are casual shirts, carefully selected to accentuate his biceps and tattoos that decorate his arms. His long pullable hair is always slicked back on the top and shaved on the sides.
“Ya’ll been seeing each other for awhile now. Is it getting serious?”
“I’m not sure, we haven’t really talked about a whole relationship thing.” I express with more inflection in my voice. “I don’t try to think that far ahead. It’s only been a few months.”
“Oh yes, your knight and shining armor.”
Even though Finn and I had met when I first started DJing at The Warehouse, we were mere acquaintances. A while back, a group of assholes thought that touching “the help” was allowed and he, with my favorite bouncer, Steve threw them out. That night was not good for me considering I had a horrible beginning to the evening: an argument with my brother, my DJ controller broke, and I was incredibly late on my rent. Finn was there at the right time and as the saying goes, “the rest is history.”
“Even so, keep that safety net on. Next to all his bad boy wonders, he’s popular with the ladies.”
“I’ve got my mind focused on one thing for my future,” I say, reassuringly.
“Like his velvet wrapped steel?”
“Oh my God, Parker! My music! I’ll be in the studio tomorrow working with Lora,” I declare with triumph.
“You finally finished the masterpiece?”
“Sure did.”
“Oh shit! Congrats! We gotta figure out a time to make some of our own music. And not the kind that will be coming out of your mouth when your hoo-ha is riding Finn’s disco stick.”
I snort. “I have a shift tomorrow serving. Aren’t you working?”
“Yeah, and Jess wants to jam too.”
“Love it.”
Distracted, I sit up straight and eye fuck Finn as he walks out from the kitchen throwing his coat on. He looks at me with an ultra-sexy grin, nodding his head to the door telling me it’s time to go. I return a smile and hop off the bar stool.
“Slut.”
“Love you, byyyye!”
Mouths and tongues clash while coats are stripped off our shoulders and flood the floor. We shuffle our feet together running into walls, tables, and the back of the couch. While we each hop on one foot to take our shoes off in between the wet sloppy kisses, we finally stop at the foot of the bed.
“Fuck, Brigs.” Finn coats my lips with his mouth and dives his tongue right back in.
I moan and break the kiss quickly. “Shut up and strip.”
I eagerly pull Finn’s shirt up and he helps finish remove the rest because my hands cannot stop touching the ripples of muscle on his torso. He grabs my face and starts kissing hard. We pull and tug yanking and throwing the top half of our clothes everywhere. Finn dives for my chest, coveting the curved mounds with his mouth and hands as we collapse on the bed. We’re needy, greedy, and horny as hell. I want his manhood in me now.
We continue the frenzy kisses while pulling our pants and underwear down, not wanting to end the connection. Ignoring the fact that our socks are still on, Finn turns me around and brings my ass up. He layers his member with an overcoat and swiftly enters.
I scream out with pleasure and after a moment of allowing my insides to stretch, Finn’s hands hungrily grip tight to my hips as he pushes himself in and out, cursing dirty words to me. He picks up the pace and thrusts relentlessly. My face flushes while sweat starts to trickle down my neck. Grasping tightly to the sheets, my moans echo through the apartment. I am engulfed in hypnotic euphoria. Our sex is never just sex. It’s shameless, raw fucking. He’s hard, rough, and pleases me in the only ways I know.
After our release, we collide on the wet sheets covered in sweat and arousal. I feel incredible and I’m ready for at least another two rounds. Some nights he stays at mine, or I stay the night at his, and some we don’t at all. Neither of us mind. I know I won’t see him until my next shift and when I do, we’ll do it all over again.
