Wicked Games

I had always been in awe of the tales of sin and intrigue surrounding a club like Vogue. I had never before set foot in her, for such was a place of legend. I had merely gawked at her outer shell on too many occasions to count. You can’t judge a book by its cover or else this establishment would have been written off years ago. She was an old, stone building, cracked and crumbling. Her walls were accented with past vomit and urine stains courtesy of its previous patrons. Trash and cigarette butts littered the property and passing sidewalk.

Why would anyone want to risk their delicate immune system to enter such a place? Because the stories here were epic. And with this being a small town, citizens were left with little choice but to give her a fair chance. So when my two friends, Jennifer and Kate, painstakingly managed to acquire fake I.Ds, Vogue was naturally the first place on our list. From the second Jennifer handed me this holiest of golden tickets, I somehow knew life would never be the same. So, as I stood on her door step and the exceptionally long line one expects on a Friday night, I tried to imagine what was on her inside. Scantily clad men in bow ties and cleverly placed socks? James Bond sipping his martini, shaken not stirred? A table convened for the sole purpose of solving world hunger? The sky truly was the limit and as much as it made me fired up it also made my tummy perform an acrobatic routine that would have put cirque de sol to shame. What if we don’t get in? What if Satan himself owns this place and the price of admission is your soul? Am I ready to part with that?

Before my nerves allowed me to empty my stomach and impart my signature on the club’s brick, Kate seized my hand and shuffled me ahead till I was greeted by the meanest lurch-looking bouncer you could imagine. With muscles swollen to an intimidating extreme and a hideously unimpressed scowl, I almost turned on my heel, walked off, and forgotten the last hour I had been crammed in line eagerly waiting. By some miracle I stood my ground.

“I.D” he growled, uncrossing his arms and reaching out his large paw towards me. If it was legal to advertise steroids this guy would have been their spoke’s person. With a reassuring nudge from my peers, my shaky fingers produced the falsified document. He probably saw my trembling hands and the droplet of sweat on my forehead. His gaze went from the girl in the picture, who only sort of looked like a Sophie Cavanaugh, to me, the real Sophie Cavanaugh and his brow mischievously lifted. God he knows he is just toying with me now.

“Go on in” he grumbled, giving me back my proof of criminality and lifting the chain to permit my entrance. I immediately booked it for the big ruby red doors. There was no way on God’s green earth that I was going to stick around to see if he changed his mind.

I entered but a splash in a tidal wave of newly arriving promiscuous youth and was ushered toward the dance floor. Gyrating bodies brushed against one another, their limbs pulsating to the thunderous beat that ricocheted about the dark enclosed space. The strobe lighting made their movements appear disjointed and erratic as they swayed and dipped flirtatiously rubbing and grinding their torsos together like two stones attempting to ignite a fire. The heat, suffocating to most, appeared to fuel them further into their frenzy. Scantily clad girls spun around silver poles and lasers jutted about in a dance of their own. The scent of sweat and sex hung thick in the air as I took in my surroundings. An energy pumped through the crowded room animating and connecting the flesh of the masses. The music, drawing out their most basic passions and desires, thus reverting them back to a version of their most animalistic selves. It was everything a rebellious teen could hope for. It was freedom.

Not that I could complain about my adolescence. I rarely had a problem with authority, I obeyed my nightly curfews, and I always ate my vegetables. But, let’s face it even “Daddy’s girl” needed a vacation. It was becoming ever more apparent to me that I had done the right thing in leaving out bits of scattered truth when I begged my father to stay over at Jennifer’s house. Technically not a lie since it was where we started the evening and where we planned on finishing it. The Honorable Judge Cavanaugh didn’t need to here about my seedy bar visit in between. Striking this evidence from the record was the smartest thing for a small time con like me. Besides, it was a first time offence so I would give myself the benefit of the doubt.

My girlfriends and I gathered around the bar like a herd of elephants around a watering hole. We bobbed our heads to the music, intending to look busy. In this animal kingdom the ratio of male to female was about 3:1. My sexually charged companions appreciated those odds as they flipped their hair, batted their eyelashes, and giggled nervously whenever they got a head nod or wink of approval. The art of flirtation was something I was never particularly good at. In fact, it was downright scary when I tried. My face would do this weird scrunched up thing and the batting of my eyes looked more like an attempt to remove a glass shard from my cornea. Kate would always say just smile and let them do most of the talking, while Jennifer would concur and add “at least she’s pretty”.

That has to stand for something right? Pretty people have it made right? Though I never classified myself as such, I still managed to capture the attention of a few high school boys. With long wavy caramel brown hair, emerald green eyes, olive toned skin, and a petite frame, the male species swarmed like flies. I was my father’s proudest creation yet, as puberty stuck, I developed into his worst nightmare. When he wasn’t busy fending off the wolves in court, he would come home and do the same on his own doorstep. He was a protective pain in the ass sometimes.

My appearance also gifted me needling pangs of jealousy from my peers. Females either loved me or hated me. Catching them in an occasional eye roll or whispered remark, made me want to scream at them in frustration…”You can have them, all the boys. They are such immature children anyway.” I don’t know what had their panties in a twist, seeing as I had only gone on a handful of dates anyhow. No one ever left a lasting impression, unless you consider sitting in a red ford pick-up truck and having your breasts mauled special.

“Check out the delicious hottie at your four o’clock” Kate shrieked, painfully elbowing me in the side. When my eyes fell upon him, I felt the muscles in my jaw slacken and my mouth drop to the floor in awe stricken reverence. Now mind you, it was dark and the bar’s lights could have been playing cruel and spiteful tricks. Yet, when the artificial illumination fell upon the beautiful stranger, who sat casually nursing his beverage, there was no mistaking that he was the epitome of god like perfection. Now I know that sounds like a fairly heavy statement to make but, based on my worldly experience as a chemically driven adolescent, I could confirm with confidence that I had never glimpsed exquisiteness quite like it outside of the silver screen.

His hair and features were dark, and although I could not make out the colour of his eyes from across the room, his smoldering gaze was intensely locked on mine. A grey Henley donned his broad shoulders and the top few buttons of its neck had been left unfastened, evidence to the swirling speculation that he was indeed as rock hard as a piece of stale candy. Even in the darkened shadows and dimly lit mystique of the club, he was a stunner. I never needed, what I assumed were all the perfectly sculpted details, to send my knees knocking. It was the shroud of mystery surrounding his stoic mannerisms, the powerful presence he gave off, and the way his eyes zoned in on me and my cohorts without straying. I feared that with a simple blink of an eye he’d vanish and steal my heart along with it. So, we were locked in a staring contest of epic proportions that neither one of us cared to loose. I always was a competitive soul.

“Oh man he is razor freaking fine” Jennifer added, twirling her golden hair about her fingers before releasing and slowly dragging her hand down her neck to linger for a millisecond at her chest. She had brought out the big guns, giving him a strategically guided tour of her cleavage. It was her signature move and apparently it worked every time.

“He is really staring at us,” Kate whispered, producing a coy wave. That finally drew from him a cool, casual smile that had us all turning away and suddenly afflicted with an case of the nervous giggles.

“We need a plan” Jennifer proclaimed, sneaking another quick peak at the man.

“I don’t know Jen,” I sighed. For the first time, I was starting to have second thoughts. He was nice to admire from a far. However, the sensations he sent rippling over the entirety of my body, I couldn’t quite trust. Besides, how could I expect my stupid mouth to say the right things or my wobbling legs to even get me close enough?

“But, he’s so hot” Kate pouted, nudging me playfully “You aren’t chickening out, are you?”

“He looks a lot older. Probably in his mid to late twenties…”

“Sophie…” Jen cut in, standing to face me with her hands squarely on her hips. If looks could kill I surely would have keeled over right then and there.

“Well I guess…”

“Good. It is settled then,” Kate laughed, slapping me on the back.

“Let’s go dance. That is sure to get his attention.” Jennifer snatched my hand and pulled me to the crowded dance floor. The heat was intoxicating and the friction from the vibrating masses electrifying. The thunderous beat of the music edged on the crowd into a fevered frenzy. The trance inducing melody was powerfully transformative as I observed my closest gal pals mutate into zombie like strippers. They were no longer in control of their own bodies when they twirled, dipped, thrust, and dipped again. No level of black magic or necromancy would be able to make me move like that.

“Sophie, you have to loosen up.” Kate placed her hands on my hips and started to guide them through the movement.

“I can’t help that I’m rhythmically challenged” I laughed. Kate responded with a giggle and a slap to my ass.

“Just shake what your mother gave you Miss Cavanaugh”. Believe me, I was trying.

It didn’t take long for my comrades to get noticed and they were quickly partnered with two deliciously as charged heart-breakers. I had been approached a couple of times but I wasn’t feeling it. Each time I had to make up some excuse about feeling dizzy, that I had a headache, or was at any moment ready to vomit. The last statement always had them running for the hills. Perhaps they feared the back-splash. So, as I got eventually tired of awkwardly dancing on my own and fending off the numerous pick up attempts, I shuffled toward the tables located to the right of the bar to rest my weary feet. I left the poll dancing twins out in the sea of sin. They were having a blast and who was I to ruin it for them.

“You don’t look too happy to be here,” a voice whispered into my right ear. The breath was hot and sweet, sending a spine tingling trail of goose bumps down the soft flesh of my neck.

“What gave me away?” I asked, spinning to meet the stabbing grey gaze of the captivating and beautiful stranger. His eyes absorbed each and every colour from the club. One moment they were midnight blue and next a searing green. Their hue changed with each new flash of light. It was hypnotic and I found myself drowning there amongst the insignia. I had forgotten my cool and unlearned how to breathe. My chest screamed for oxygen, burning from a need that I so cruelly deprived it. I was bound to pass out if I didn’t find some way to reanimate my lungs. Let’s hope not. There would be nothing more mortifying.

“Your eyes” he smiled. My knees buckled and I grabbed hold of the table edge to steady myself. What the hell was wrong with me? It was not like I hadn’t spoken to a guy before. But this was no boy standing in front of me. He was a man.

“They do? Apparently he made me a woman of few words. Before you judge, I have to point out that multitasking is a rather momentous feat. Taking in every aspect of God’s finest masterpiece all while trying to sound intelligible and display a calm demeanour had its difficulties. I already was becoming vastly equated with his eyes so naturally my admiration turned to tracing his moderately tan complexion which I quickly discovered was devoid of flaw. His facial features, chiselled from marble, had no wrinkles or creases but miles of unblemished skin. I was instantly drawn to step forward and join my flesh with his which I imagined felt much like silk beneath ones fingertips.

“You have the look of a girl who was initially excited by the prospect of a place like this only to discover that it’s really not your cup of tea.”

“And you gathered this from the handful of words we’ve exchanged?” My scrutiny left him to scan the crowd for Kate and Jennifer. “Or, have you been watching me?” I didn’t know what I was doing. The art of seduction was a foreign subject and he made me tremendously nervous. Yet, by some random draw, from a lottery containing my vast array of differentiated personalities, I came up with a saucy minx. I prayed it was his type.

“Yes,” he whispered, gently catching a stray strand of hair and playfully tucking it behind my ear. He smelled of leather, the woods, and fresh laundry. An intoxicating mix that almost did my legs in for good. His hair, black as midnight, was carelessly swept across his forehead and shimmered under the artificial laser lights. I yearned to rake my fingers through it and breathe in the scent of his shampoo. Resisting the temptation, I dropped my gaze to his broad shoulders, making out the definition of each abdominal muscle group through the snug fitting fabric of his shirt. I envisioned his body stripped of garments. His firm biceps, rippled stomach, strong back, tight buttocks, large …

“Perhaps I could buy you a drink?” My cheeks reddened and burned with embarrassment at the X rated nature of my thoughts.

“I don’t feel like drinking much tonight” I must’ve sounded lame. If I wasn’t careful I would no longer be able to hide the painful fact that I was just as boring as they came, one big epic snooze fest.

“Right, I should have known that. I am not the first guy to ask you, and not the first you’ve turned down”. My mouth dropped open in shock. He was very astute and a little brazen but hotter than the seven circles of hell. Hot was delightful but get to close and you risk burns of a third degree in nature. Heat was unpredictable, dangerous, and highly combustible. Yet, like a moth to the flame it was damn attractive.

“Once again with the stalker comments” I grinned, trying to shake off the dizzying spell he appeared to have over me. His odour, made my head swim, enticing me to crash into his muscular body. I wanted nothing more than to mould into him so I could live and breathe in his erotic scent, but better judgment still gripped me. Why was I always so classy and up tight?

“Could you at least let me get you a water?” he chuckled, strategically sliding his hand over mine. My senses were assaulted with heat, yet the touch of his skin sent cold sparks of electricity prickling up my arm. I wondered if he could feel me trembling. I nodded in gratitude as he strode over to the bar to fetch me a refreshing glass of water. While I waited, I glimpsed my two besties in the dancing throng. They were beaming and giving me the thumbs up as they ground their backsides into college guys’ junks. Hussies!

“Your water mam,” he winked, sliding the glass across the table and taking a seat.

“Thanks,” I replied coolly, tossing my hair back over my shoulders and taking a sip.

“Your friends look to be having a good time” he waved, as they giggled and clung to their men.

“They don’t get out much,” I teased, taking a bigger chug of the rejuvenating liquid.

“Do you get out much?” His smoldering gaze locked on mine. His eyes drew me inward, swallowing me whole. I sucked in a deep breath wrenching back against the invisible force for a sudden fear I might drown. The corner of his mouth lifted into a smug smile. His lips, so supple and soft, caused my body temperature to uncontrollably rise and warmth to pulsate between my legs. God to be so genetically blessed.

“Sure I do” I added with a defensive tone. Who does he think he is? God’s gift to woman?

“I bet you’re a real wild one” he chuckled, running his fingers through his hair. His grin, playful and inviting, coloured my skin a touch of pink as heat and blood fervently rushed to the surface. His smile could melt you into a puddle where you stood and my knees quivered and shook trying to remember what exactly their job was if not to hold me upright.

“Is that sarcasm I hear in your voice?” My gaze followed the lines and contours of his face tracing his dimples, up along his strong jaw and cheek bones back to where I lost myself, his eyes.

“No not at all,” he threw his hands up in surrender.

“I know how to have fun, if that’s what you mean”. I snapped, snatching my beverage and downing the majority of it. Great the jig was up. I’m a mundane non adventurous adolescent and it was quickly becoming apparent. Acquiring a fake I.D and worming my way into this place was about as dangerous as it got.

“Actually, the point I am trying to make is you’re a breath of fresh air”

“I am?” I sputtered in pure disbelief. I have been called many things: daddy’s girl, brown nose, teacher’s pet, uptight tease, and a heartless bitch once. Never had I been considered a breath of fresh air.

“Yes. You’re not typical one bit. In a good way,” he added, entwining his fingers in mine and toying with them.

“Go on,” My throat shriveled and dried instantly as if a dozen cotton balls had been crammed into my mouth. I desperately licked my lips suffering from a thirst, or perhaps a desire, long waiting to be quenched. Bad news was I had finished my water.

“You don’t fall for the cheesy pickup lines, you don’t transform yourself into something sleazy or pathetic for the sake of a little attention, and you’re cute.”

“Not sexy?” I huffed, puckering my lips into the most wounded puppy dog pout I could muster.

“You’re that too” he winked. Every time our eyes met my insides flipped and fluttered as if caging a flock of monarch butterflies desperate for release. It was exhilarating.

“Wow ,you’re kind of charming. But, I bet you knew that already”. I shifted my gaze around the packed club noticing that the colours were beginning to bleed into one. I blinked violently till I was able to restore the sharp contrasts played off the walls and patrons in the place.

“It’s a trait I inherited,” he teased, jutting his rock hard chest forth like a proud alpha male.

“Oh, and you are very modest I see,” I laughed, giving him a flirty shove. Really, it was an excuse to feel just how firm his chest muscles were. Cement wall was as an adequate description. I had to use whatever ounce of will power I had left to keep my fingers from lingering and raking over his muscular torso.

“Yet, I took this long to build up the confidence to offer you a bottle of Dasani.”

“It was very refreshing by the way,” I nodded, resting my chin in the palm of my hands which had begun to grow clammy. I felt slightly lethargic. Must be from all the pent up excitement over tonight’s shocking festivities. As pleasant as the night was turning out to be, the adrenaline rush each time we locked eyes must have sapped my energy levels a fair bit.

“You’re welcome,” he scooted, closer so that our shoulders were intimately brushing. His scent dizzied me and I felt drunk off of it. My heart had slowed and my breathing became quiet sighs. I swayed slightly rocking back in my chair as he plastered himself against me. Was it even possible to become drunk in love?

“You okay?” he asked, his expression reflecting concern.

“I’m just feeling a little fuzzy. I’ll be fine.” I reached for his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. The electricity was instant and shocked me to the point that I almost let go. My finger tips vibrated and hummed as if the enthusiastic whisperings between their nerve endings where faintly audible over the sudden silence that fell between us.

“So, I realized I never got your name…” He scratched the back of his neck and his eyes sparkled at me like twinkling multi-carat diamonds.

“Sophie Cavanaugh,” I giggled, the words feeling slightly funny on the tip of my tongue. Wait was my tongue swelling? It was tingling and starting to numb. I was filled with a sudden need to stick it out and poke it back to life. I resisted the ladylike urge. Do you think Gene Simmons ever worried about coming off as silly?

“Well Sophie I am Jackson…Jacks for short”. What a sexy name. It certainly rolled off the tongue.

“Well Jackson, I don’t mean to sound inappropriate but you smell awful good.” I leaned into his body resting my face into the fabric of his Henley and inhaled deeply. I was assaulted by a mixture of men’s body wash, fabric softener and sweat. I could have crawled up and lived in his shirt forever. “Is that Downy Infusion Extra Soft?”

“It is,” he replied, stroking my hair and massaging my scalp when I closed my eyes for a time and just concentrated on his rhythmical breathing. Against the sturdy wall of his chest I no longer felt off balance and I was content to stay there for as long as he’d let me.

“Are you sure you’re okay Sophie?” He lifted my chin, cupping my face in his hands and staring into my cloudy eyes. Everything appeared to be moving in slow motion: the strobes once rapid flashes of light blurred into one prolonged assault on the senses, the crowd originally disjointed and erratic melted into a large incoherent blob of movement, and the illumination of the club was dimming ever so subtly.

“I feel pretty funny,” I slurred, trying to right my head to address him better but my skull felt like a bowling ball, weighted down by a pile of bricks.

“It’s probably the heat and smoke in here. Fresh air will do you some good.” He pushed up from his chair, towering and basking me in his shadow. I groped for the table to steady my wobbly disposition and begun to lay my head down on its cool surface. The cold felt comforting against my cheek.

“Sophie, let’s go,” he insisted, gently seizing my arm and yanking me to my feet. I stumbled into him, a wall of muscle and tendon, and he encased me in his strong, steadying embrace. His hand, pressed lightly against the small of my back, felt comforting. There was no way he was going to let me fall.

“I just want to have a tiny nap first,” I smiled, tracing my fingers along the firm hills and valleys of his abdomen. I had wanted to do that all night but was much too shy.

“That’s what I am afraid of Sophie. You can’t sleep in here.” He started walking me past the bar and pushed through sandwiched patrons. Their faces whizzed by in a woozy blur.

“Everything is fading,” I blurted out, fear beginning to build in me. Blackness was lurking on the periphery of my vision and was beginning to slowly tunnel its way inward.

“Just hold on Sophie we are almost outside” His rippled biceps were wrapped around my side squeezing me tightly to him. When my legs buckled, he was easily lifting my feet from the ground dragging me those last few desperate steps. Upon exiting the building a cool fall breeze struck me across the face, granting me the strength to stand. It was refreshing and had allowed me to keep the nauseating symptoms of light headedness at bay. Jackson led me down a private alley and propped me carefully against an icy wall. For this I was grateful. I couldn’t help but feel ashamed over my unexplainable bout of sickness as I slunk down the brick to the pavement.

“Do you feel any better?” Jackson hovered above me. He looked almost nervous glancing about the back alley.

“I don’t know what happened” I looked up at him with tears in my eyes. I was embarrassed and scared. Then as sudden as it dissipated, the darkness was back and threatening to swallow me whole. My head rolled forward and snapped back, cracking my skull against the unforgiving stone. The dimmer switch was back on and my stomach flipped as my consciousness was slowly consumed.

“I don’t feel so good” I reached for the bottom of his pant leg but he callously kicked me aside.

“That’s to be expected Sophie after what you just ingested” His face was hidden in shadow and his back was turned to the alley’s only illumination. The idea of not being able to see his expression terrified me.

“What?” I slurred, trying to shrink away into the shadow of the alley walls.

“Don’t fight it anymore. Just let it take you”. Let it take me where? Confusion and trepidation leached into my mind and rose to a dramatic crescendo.

“I need to find Kate and Jen,” I stammered. Horror rose from the pit of my stomach as I desperately fought the vertiginous faint spell threatening to steam roll me once more. It was a losing battle.

“What you need is to sleep it off, Sophie” he crouched down, pressing me tighter against the wall when I tried to rise.

“No…” was about all I could manage as my head bobbed and dipped in the vicious grips of unconsciousness. My eyes fluttered closed as Mr. Sandman took hold. Even in a semi-conscious state I tried to moan and felt my hands come up to push him from me. My attempts were feeble as he hushed me, whispering sweet reassurances in my ear. Just as I was sure I was lost completely to any type of thought, I felt my body lift from the pavement. It felt like floating in a black abyss. And as I felt the last bit of fight leave my system, I resigned myself to becoming quite content on dissolving there in the dark.