We drank our tea in silence, caught up in our thoughts. I thought of Maya the whole time. I tipped the cup upside down when I was done so the leaves could slide down the china, leaving a trail as they descended. My mother looked upon these markings as foretelling the future. I’d known her for too long to question her methods.
“While we wait, let’s do a reading,” she said.
“Not a full one,” I said. “Just one card.” She shuffled the cards skillfully as she’d done this hundreds of times. “I wish my gift was similar to yours—how nice must it be to tell people their good fortune.”
She looked at me over her Tarot deck. “It’s not all fun and games, Tristan. Most of the time when people come to me, it’s because they’re troubled. And much of the time, when I read for them, they have reason to be. It’s not that easy to see that their worst fears may be imminent and yet try to focus on the positive. Try to help them find a way out of their predicament.”
“The difference is that you choose to meet with people. You can help them. I don’t want this ability. What good is it to see sadness in people? I can’t do anything about it! I don’t want to see their pain.” Why was I raising my voice right now? And bringing up a topic I hated to discuss with her?
“Tristan,” she said in a soothing voice. “Some gifts take more time to develop than others. Especially if the person fights it. Maybe someday you’ll find what makes your ability so special. Our paths are not always clear at first and you’re still so young.”
I bit my tongue to stop the retort forming and let her do her thing.
“I believe in you, Tristan. I always have. One day you can do great things. I know this.”
“Of course you think that. You’re my mother. Nobody else feels that way about me. Especially not me.”
She looked at me with the sympathy only a mother expresses without embarrassment. Then she said, “Close your eyes. Focus on your concern.”
I closed my eyes and thought of Maya and her light. Then I picked a card.
“The Emperor,” she said. “Major arcana.” She looked up at me. “You want to find some control over things you have no control over. You’re thinking about her; she’s thinking about you. You will spend much time together. Working together—maybe having fun together. Ultimately, you must work with her to achieve your desires.”
“This is ridiculous,” I said, pushing my chair back. “I’m not buying it. I might be wondering about her, but she is most definitely not thinking about me. Why would she? And I have been alone for thirty years. Someone is not going to walk into my life now and change everything just because of what you see on some card.”
She just smiled at me and picked up my tea cup to examine the leaves. She turned the cup around slowly and hmmphed here and there.
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure,” she said and looked up at me. “Can you bring her here?”
“Bring her here? I don’t even know how to contact her. Why on earth would I bring her here?
She put down the cup and looked me straight in the eye. “I want to meet her.”
Maya
One week went by. Saturday night. I wished I was spending my evening getting ready to go to Vamps and seduce one Mr. Tristan “Smoking-Hot Guy” Stone. But I was a working girl. So instead, I sat around in a firehouse, the only female working with a bunch of guys. Although I was usually one of the first ones to engage in the friendly banter that kept us entertained during the dragging moments, lately I was distracted by other things.
Bob Walker, a middle-aged firefighter, noticed I wasn’t my perky old self. After most of the guys went out on a call and it was only the two of us left, he asked, “What’s with you lately? Most people can barely get a word in when you’re around. You haven’t said two sentences in a row all week.”
“Things on my mind. You know, things.”
“I know what that means,” he said with a smirk. “I have two teenage daughters. I don’t need a crystal ball to see that by ‘things’ you mean a guy.”
I frowned. So much for keeping my angst to myself.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked.
As a matter of fact, I would have liked to spew out all the racing thoughts in my brain to someone who would just listen to me ramble. But then that would require spilling the beans on my secret other life where I liked to go dancing in underground fetish clubs. And that would not go down well in a firehouse full of guys, for me at least.
“Thanks, but there’s nothing to tell.”
Luckily, I was distracted by a couple of emergency calls that night—an old woman who was having trouble breathing and had to be taken by ambulance to the hospital and some kid who was freaking out on drugs and also had to be taken in.
Another week went by. I had two days off in a row midweek. I checked on the Vamps website once, okay every day, to see what was going on, but then remembered how I needed to get myself back in check. Instead I spent one night having dinner catch-up with a friend and the other one going to the movies on my own.
Saturday night finally came again. Whenever Nike and I had Saturday nights off, we’d go to Vamps as it was the best night of the week. I wished she was with me now for some moral support at least, but there was someone else I wanted to see that night even more.
I paid particular attention to my appearance that evening. After a long, hot shower where I groomed myself meticulously, as if I had a lover awaiting me that evening, I then spent another forty-five minutes trying on outfits. One by one they went from my closet to my body, and then after being rejected, tossed onto an armchair.
“Ugh, stop acting as if you’re in middle school and just pick something,” I admonished myself.
Finally I decided on a form-fitting black dress, with Asian red floral satin accents down the front and back where the dress laced together and a slit that reached halfway up my thigh. Sure the black would blend in with everyone else, but the red gave it a little punch. And I wanted to be seen by someone in particular. Not stand out in a bright red, look-at-me, va-va-va-voom number, but one that gave me a little differentiation from the crowd.
I straightened my still-black hair until it went halfway down my back and then gave it a little curl at the ends with a fat curling iron. I ironed my bangs straight, Bettie Page-style. Then I was extra careful making my face up. I lined my blue eyes with black eyeliner to set them off and used plenty of mascara, then softened them with a smoky gray eye shadow. Lipstick tonight called for fire-engine-red. In order to act like a seductress, I had to look like one. And the first person I had to convince was myself.
I looked in the mirror and smiled. For someone who’d been sporting the drab dark colors of firefighting uniforms or schlepping around in lounge pants and tank tops the rest of the week, I had made quite the transformation from a regular girl next door to vixen.
Damn, I look hot!
I took a cab to Vamps and experienced the familiar urge to bounce down the alley in anticipation for what lay ahead that night. I practically threw open the big door at the entrance.
Byron smiled widely. “Maya, Maya, Maya. You’re back.”
“Hi, Byron. How’s it going?”
“Things have been—interesting,” he said. “Someone was asking about you.”
My heart beat faster and I tried to control my excitement. After all, it could be some random guy.
I tried for nonchalance. “Oh really, who might that be?”
He cocked his head. “Come on, Maya. Don’t play coy.”
“I don’t know what on earth you mean, Byron.” I opened my eyes wide for an innocent effect.
“Save it, sunshine. I’m gay, remember? Womanly wiles don’t have any effect on me.”
My wide-eyed look immediately was replaced by a pout, without me even realizing what I was doing.
“What’s up with you and Mr. Stone anyway?”Byron asked.
Oh goodie, it was him! He asked about me! I mentally jumped in the air clicking m
y heels like some kind of leprechaun. Then said, “Nothing. Why do you ask?”
“Mr. Stone is one of the most introverted people I’ve ever met. He stays down in his office or whatever he has downstairs and just sweeps through the club like a bat out of hell to make sure everything’s going okay. Don’t tell him, but that’s what the staff calls him behind his back.”
“Bat out of hell?”
“Yes. He scared the crap out of one of the bar help one day, who was replenishing the bottles behind the bar. Mr. Stone came up to check on things and he was wearing his usual black. He flew through the club and then he disappeared downstairs. That’s how he usually acts. He does not talk to women and he does not take their hands to give them private tours of the club, like he did with you.”
“Uh, um, oh,” I stammered. “Maybe he was just being polite because you knew me.”
“Maya, please. Why would the owner of a club care who the bouncer is friendly with?”
“Um.” Good point. I had nothing.
“Exactly.” He nodded as if thinking to himself. “He wants me to tell him when you return. You okay with that?”
Okay with that? I was hoping that he’d at least remember me. The fact that he asked about me and had given me special treatment made me want to spin some Olympic gymnastic flips off the rafters.
“Yeah, sure,” I said with a wave of my hand, trying to play it cool. Then I killed that objective with my next line. “Byron, how do I look? Be honest.”
Byron looked me over and a grin spread across his face again. “You look smashing. A total fox. If I was straight, I’d be all over you.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’m going to get a drink. For some reason, I’m kind of nervous.”
“You—nervous? First time for everything, I suppose,” he said, shaking his head incredulously. “Go on in. I’ll wait a little while before I tell him.”
I went to the bar and checked out the drink list again. When I saw a Hotter Than Hell Bloody Mary, I smiled, remembering when Tristan suggested it. But there were so many new mouthwatering choices on the menu. What would I have next? I’m the type of girl who tries everything, not one who orders the same thing every time she goes to a restaurant.
“I’ll have an Anything Goes,” I told the sexy bartender.
Time to brace myself for anything that could happen.
A few songs later, Tristan hadn’t appeared and I had almost finished my drink. Patience wasn’t my strong suit, especially when it came to waiting for a guy.
Okay, maybe Byron got caught up at the door and didn’t have a chance to tell him yet. Or maybe Tristan was caught up in something and wasn’t going to stop everything and jump just because I walked into his club. Or maybe his interest had waned and he wasn’t going to come up. The more I waited, the more impatient I grew.
Fuck it, I thought. I’m not going to wonder. I refuse to be that kind of girl. The kind who sits around making excuses waiting for some guy to show up. Vamps was my place to let loose and unwind from work, not get caught up in some romantic drama. Look at the toll this pining had taken on my psyche over the past couple of weeks. And for what? Nothing. Nothing but expectation, which did not look as if it was going to be met tonight.
Time to reclaim why I started to come here to begin with. To dance, to be free, to let the real me come out.
I walked out onto the dance floor and found a nook in the crowd that I made my own. It didn’t take me long to get into the music. Forcing thoughts of Tristan aside, I lost myself into Billy Idol’s Flesh for Fantasy mixed into some industrial track of a woman singing about her own fantasies. Then I made up for the last few months by dancing with wild abandon.
Tristan
When Byron called me to tell me that Maya was here, a part of me froze. I’d been waiting for her to return for days. But now that she was back, I wondered what the hell I was going to do next.
I hadn’t thought that far ahead.
Now I couldn’t really go up to her and ask her probing questions about herself without setting off some red flags. Nor could I tell her about my abilities without her thinking I was some freak before she ran out the club never to turn back.
And I definitely couldn’t tell her those other things I’d been thinking.
Screw it. Maybe that light was just a freak thing, someone might have slipped something into my drink. Maybe I’d go upstairs and she’d appear to me just like everyone else and whatever spell she’d cast on me would be broken.
Only one way to find out for sure.
I steeled myself and walked upstairs. Byron said she was at the bar. I walked up and down the bar, but didn’t see her.
Had she already left?
I walked along the perimeter of the dance floor, seeing the sea of dancers mostly dressed in black as well as the visible darkness that surrounded them. The darkness moved so fast it looked fluid, like liquid shadows flowing around them.
And then I saw the light.
Maya dancing amid the darkness, her white light unmistakable, proving that last time was not a drug-induced vision or a hallucination. I looked around and saw that the darkness had disappeared, whether it was gone or I just couldn’t see it anymore. People looked like people.
I watched her moving freely to the music, as if without a care as to what anyone around her thought. She faced away from me, but I knew it was her from the glow. She was wearing a black dress laced up the back with red. Wider openings in the top led to more narrow ones near the bottom as the fastenings cinched down near her waist and over her ass.
Seeing bits of her skin peek through the fastenings teased me. When my eyes travelled over the portion covering her ass, I grew excited visualizing untying the red laces. Very sexy.
The song Paralyzer came on and she turned my way. When she danced, she moved as if one with the music. She raised her hands to the air while swaying her hips seductively, yet at the same time, not knowing the effect she had on her audience.
Which consisted of me. Utterly entranced.
Her free spirit was infectious. And her seductive moves were intoxicating. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Her face, those eyes, her curves in that dress, those long, long legs. I wanted to drink all of her in.
Surprising myself, I moved through the crowd toward her. Her back was toward me and I placed my hand on her shoulder, whispering, “Hello, Maya,” into her ear.
She froze. Turned back to look at me. When I looked into those sapphire eyes, which shined like gems reflecting her light, it was my turn to freeze.
Paralyzed.
Although I’d always thought the song was hot, I also thought it was a little cheesy—falling for someone in a nightclub? Come on. But now I felt the song as if it was written for this moment, for me and Maya. Who cared that maybe dozens of other people felt the same way about a partner they desired right now? For me, it was for Maya and me alone.
Recovering from the momentary stillness, I began to dance with her, something I rarely did, but something about the way Maya did it made it seem enjoyable. No, more than enjoyable. Essential to the joy in life. Her mouth dropped halfway when I began moving with her, but after about two beats, she joined in.
While we danced, our eyes remained locked. I became lost just gazing into those brilliant eyes. Spellbound. What was it about her that entranced me so?
Her brightness had faded to a pleasant glow, like a soft reading light. I remained fixated upon her, not even wanting or daring to look at anyone around us.
My desire for her overwhelmed rational thought at this point. I reached one hand around her lower back and pulled her closer to me. I whispered into her ear, “I’ve been thinking about you.”
Her eyes fluttered and closed briefly in such an erotic gesture that I felt myself grow hard. When she reopened them, she asked, “You have?”
I nodded. “Often.” Then I grinned at a private joke. “You must have bewitched me.”
“I’m no witch,” she said, smiling back so brightly that her
eyes twinkled. “Just a working girl who likes to dance.”
“You do it so well.”
“Thank you. Kudos to the DJ,” she said, nodding in his direction.
Our bodies quickly synced as they swayed as one to the music. We didn’t speak as we danced, our eyes locked. I saw the want as her eyes darkened, a look that was surely reflected in my own. It was simply the most erotic dance of my life.
Maya leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “I have a confession. I’ve been thinking about you too.”
Surprised, I said, “Have you now?” When she nodded, I said. “All good things, I hope.”
She looked down before looking back up with a mischievous look. “All good. And maybe a little bad. Or just naughty.”
Good God, did she know the effect those words just had on me?
She wrapped her arms around my neck, entwining them around me like a gorgeous serpent. Just the feel of her arms around me was enough to make me want to moan.
“A naughty girl. Just what I like. And one who can dance as sexy as you.”
“I dance sexy?” she asked, a confused look taking over the naughty glint.
“Almost too much for a red-blooded man to bear,” I said.
While we danced with our eyes still locked, I was painfully aware of my growing erection just centimeters away from her luscious body. How I wanted to press myself against her, into her. People around us be damned. I wanted to throw her onto the floor and take her then and there.
No. I wanted to take my time with her. Take her down to my lab, explore every inch of her body.
I glanced down at her body, which was a mistake. Her breasts were pushed up against the lace bodice and at my angle, I could see them at a great advantage. A deep groan escaped involuntarily from my lips. Luckily, it was drowned out by the song.
My eyes moved back up to her face. She was wearing such spiked heels that her face was mere inches away from mine. And her lips. She had painted them a sensual red. Now I couldn’t take my eyes off her lips.
Then she licked them. Whether intentional or not, I don’t know.
But I didn’t stand a chance.
I didn’t care who was around. I didn’t care that I owned this damn club and had employees here working for me.
Fiery Nights Page 3
