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This city is so gorgeous at night. Full of gorgeous people, and gorgeous men who will hurt you if you’re not careful.
My name is Sam, short for Samantha. Some people call me Sammy but I hate that nickname.
My BFF is Allison. She’s my age, nineteen. We’d been friends all throughout high school. Both of us went a year in college; then both of us grew bored and frustrated enough to drop out.
Quitters are birds of a feather.
Allison is more outgoing than I am. She asked me to go to SIN, a new downtown nightclub. At first I refused but then changed my mind.
How could it hurt to go out of my comfort zone for just a few hours?
Famous last words.
Clad in a flaming red dress with a flared skirt, I met Allison at the club. We wound our way through the boisterous crowd, then sat at a table near the front.
Disgusting ashes and cigarette butts strewn the table surface. Smoky fog hung above like a transparent sheet.
Since it was opening night at the club, a female singer was about to perform. Angelique Tremont stood at the microphone, stared into the crowd and awaited her cue. Male back-up dancers posed behind her on each side of the stage, preparing to do what they do best.
Both dancers had a golden-tan complexion, their skin-tight black pants nestled low on their hips. They sported collars around their necks and ebony masks obscured their eyes, but I could tell they were handsome guys, especially the one on the right. His sandy hair was neatly combed back, slick and shiny in the pale lights.
Angelique gripped the microphone and began singing.
I looked away for a second. Wait—did I feel one of the dancer’s eyes on me? Why would any guy look at me twice? Especially one who looked like him?
Turning back, I saw my favorite dancer gaze past me and straight across the room. Like I was invisible. Like I wasn’t even here.
Regardless, Angelique’s resonating voice hit the main verse and that’s when the guys came alive, started dancing.
Fast-paced music thumped. It was an explosion of lights, sound and hot guys with lean, sweaty bodies which writhed and shimmied to the beat.
“God,” Allison said. “I’d die for the one on the right. Just a one-night stand and I’d be happy forever.” She stared, toying with her smooth blonde hair.
I had to agree with her. The one on the right was incredible, both in looks and dancing. Arching his back and lifting his arms as he swayed, his bright green eyes shifted to me, teasing with each pelvic thrust… as if he were only dancing for me.
Don’t I wish?
Oh, if only my wildest fantasies would come true. He was so beautiful. Glistening sweat trickled down his tight, ridged stomach to his navel.
As the song wound down, twin male dancers raised their arms and froze. Music cut off.
“Thanks guys.” Jillian grinned, waving at the cheering crowd.
Six songs later the trio left the stage. I knew I’d never see the hot dancer again. On the other hand, so what if I did? It’s not like he’d notice me. Granted he looked at me while doing a dance move, but that didn’t mean jack shit.
Then Dancer Number Two (my favorite) stopped near our table to stretch his muscular arms. Tattoos of barbed wire encircled his large biceps, and the tightness of his jeans didn’t leave much to one’s imagination. His firm ass was clearly outlined.
My heart stopped. He was close enough to touch. Close enough to feel the heat from his body.