I’m thinking too much, now. Despite the chemicals racing through my veins, visions of his face are coming to mind. His twinkling blue eyes, the stupid beard across his chin that he refused to trim. The tattoos along his arms and chest, and the way I would trace their lines across his skin as I lay beside him in bed, our legs entwined beneath the sheets.
I shake my head viciously, knowing if I dwell in the land of memories too long, I’ll lose my mind. I focus with all my might on the man latched onto my skin and the sensations bombarding me from my high.
I heard about this club a few weeks ago. I was talking with some people at another club, and they mentioned a place I’d never been. There were rumors of a strange man that shows up and whisks women away. Those women always come back ranting about the best experience they’d ever had, an unimaginable new high that left them shaking and craving for more. Something so incredibly strong and unexperienced.
As soon as I heard about it, I knew I wanted it. If I can’t get out of this depression, I want more and more drugs. I want more highs and more feelings, I want to dance all night with the lights and stars swirling in my eyes and passion flowing flooding my veins and synapses.
I need more. I always, always need more.
Before long, I grow tired of the man dancing on me. He doesn’t know how to move very well, and I can’t tell if that’s just because he’s so drunk. He hasn’t tried to truly kiss me yet, instead he’s just slobbering all over my neck and trying to move his hands down towards my panties.
I extricate myself from his arms, eliciting an annoyed grunt from him. He attempts to grab my arm and pull me back towards him, but I swing around with rage shining in my eyes and raise my hand to smack his arm. He stares at me before shrugging and turning away, disappearing into the crowd.
Men here can get a little handsy, I learned that long ago. I scan the crowd for him for a few moments before turning away and making my way through the mass of gyrating bodies. I don’t know where I’m going, all I know is that I want to find this strange and alluring man everyone was speaking of.
I’m beginning to lose hope when I see him. I’ve reached the outskirts of the crowd, sweaty and disheveled and barely managing to keep my balance with all the sensations still bombarding me. I look up, eyes hooded, and lock gazes.
A man is leaning against the bar, twenty feet in front of me. His elbows are propped up on its surface and he lounges backward. I can already see from here his broad shoulder and strong arms. His button-down shirt is rolled up to the elbows, and I can see the tense muscles of his forearms.
I can’t make out the precise features of his face in the darkness of the club, but I can feel the intensity of his gaze on me. Every so often as the lights flash above me I see them bounce off his eyes. He’s staring directly at me.
I know it’s him. It has to be the man they were speaking of. He exudes this fascinating presence, it’s like an anchor—powerful and strong and keeping the entire place grounded. I stare at him in utter bafflement for a moment before stepping forward, nearly stumbling. Then I take another step and another, and soon I’m standing before him.
He has short, close-cropped black hair. It’s tight and curly, and he has deep brown eyes. His skin is a few shades darker than mine, a rich chestnut color. He regards me carefully, eyes roving up and down my body before locking again with my eyes.
“Come dance with me,” I say, my voice coming out breathless. I haven’t the presence of mind to be embarrassed, I can think of nothing but the feel of his body against mine and my lips molding with his.
The man doesn’t say a word, but steps away from the bar, grabbing my hand and dragging me back into the crowd with him. He turns around and pulls me close to him, one hand snaking down my back. His lips crash against mine.
I lose myself in him. My senses seem heightened all of a sudden, though the only things they are heightened to is him. The rest of the room falls away. His body is incredibly solid and muscular, almost unnaturally so. Everything about him feels graceful and majestic, every move he makes carefully planned.
After a few moments he pulls away. He turns me around so my back is to his front, and we dance. He dips his face down and nuzzles his nose into my neck, causing my breath to hitch in my chest. It’s been a long time since I felt sensations like this from a strange man.
I feel him tugging on my shirt now, pulling me backwards with him through the crowd. I turn around and he grabs onto my hand, guiding me to the outskirts of the room and towards the bathrooms. Excitement thrums through my entire body, I can hardly believe this is happening. I actually found him.
He guides me into the men’s bathroom. It’s mercifully empty, though I doubt we would have been deterred anyways. He pulls me into a stall. As soon as the door is shut and secured, he presses me against the wall of the stall and drops his mouth to my neck again.
He seems to like kissing my neck more than he likes kissing my mouth, but I’m not about to complain. My throat has always been an especially sensitive spot for me, and he knows exactly how to move his mouth against my skin. I practically melt in his arms.
Suddenly everything feels different. He’s no longer just moving his mouth against my skin. I can feel his teeth, brushing back and forth against the soft skin of my neck. He slips his tongue in every so often, licking up the length of my neck before going back down. It feels amazing, nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
I’m getting so into the sensations, I want to do more. This feels amazing, I can’t imagine how wonderful sleeping with him will feel. It doesn’t even bother me that we’re in a filthy men’s bathroom, toilet paper scattered on the floor and unsightly stains on the toilet bowl which is a mere foot away. I’ve hooked up in stranger places, and there’s no way I’m going to pass up on this opportunity simply because of a dirty bathroom.
I go to pull my shirt over my head, but he stops me. He tugs my hand away from the fabric of my shirt and pulls it up over my head. He brings my other hand up to join it, pinning my arms above my head and pressing his torso against my own. I let out a moan. His teeth are pressing harder against my throat, and suddenly I notice that they’re sharp.
Sharp teeth? How is that possible? I can feel their points pressing into my skin, threatening to break the surface. And then they do.
I feel the exact moment that his teeth pierce my flesh. He lets out a groan and his body shudders as his teeth clamp down on my neck, and suddenly I am lost in an otherworldly bliss.
I do not know where I am or what I am doing or what day of the week it is. I do not know the time, I do not know my name or my birth date. I know nothing but the feelings coursing through my veins. I can still see, but I’m not processing anything. This is the greatest high I’ve ever felt, better than any drug one could ever hope for. It’s better than booze, better than sex.
I have no idea how much time passes, but once it’s done it’s done too soon. I slide down the wall of the bathroom stall, head lolling limply as I settle onto the filthy tiled floor. I let out a whimper. I want more. But I can’t speak or vocalize. My entire body is limp and tired, helpless.
I see him standing before me. His legs and boots are directly in front of me. After a moment he turns and leaves, and I fall into darkness.
I wake up hours later. I only know this because I check my phone and see that it’s four in the morning. I gasp and try to stand, but a wave of dizziness and nausea overcomes me so I stay sitting, waiting to get my bearings. As I wait I notice something on the ground. It’s a piece of paper of some sort, looking out of place and strikingly clean against the dirty floor. I pocket it without thinking and then struggle to my feet.
My stumble home is a blur. My head pounds and my knees feel weak. I keep bringing a hand up to my neck but I feel nothing. No wound, no blood, no nothing.
Clearly, I had some sort of hallucination. Tragic, really, because that was the best sensation I’ve ever felt in my life. To think it was all just in my head . . . no way to replicate
it in real life. The thought makes my body ache.
I finally reach my apartment. I struggle with the locks before nearly falling inside and crawling into my bed. I sleep.
I spend the next day in a haze. I sleep until nearly 2 P.M., and even then find it difficult to drag myself from my bed. But that’s nothing new. It’s simply worse today due to my dramatic escapades of the previous night.
Despite all this, come nightfall, I’m raring to go again. I make my way back to the same club, something I rarely do two nights in a row. I like to go to different places, explore different scenes and new crowds. But tonight I’ve got one thing on my mind, and it’s finding that man again. I need to know if what I felt was nothing more than a hallucination, or if it was truly real.
I turn down all drugs offered me. I have one or two drinks, but nothing to get me to the level of drunkenness I typically prefer. I want to be of a righter mind when I find him, so I know without a trace of doubt what really happened. Because mark my words, I will find him.
I’ve been dancing in the club for nearly an hour when I spot him. It’s about time, too, because I was beginning to get impatient. I extricate myself from the arms of a man who’s been dancing on me. He’s so drunk he hardly notices, merely looking around dumbly for a few moments before shrugging and moving onto the next girl, an unsuspecting blond a few feet away. I shake my head, before turning my attentions back to the man.
He’s dancing with another girl. She has dark black skin and long black braids which sway back and forth with her movements. He’s kissing her neck and she has a look of ecstasy on her face, which I immediately envy. My stomach clenches at the sight of him, but I don’t let myself be intimidated. I fight my way through the crowd until I’m standing directly in front of them.
The woman doesn’t notice me. Her eyes are closed and her head is thrown back. Upon closer inspection I see that he’s brushing his teeth against the skin of her neck, but he hasn’t bitten down.
His teeth are sharp. Their points glisten and flash in the dancing lights of the club, and every so often he presses them down harder against her skin. But he never breaks the skin. His eyes are closed as well and he pulls the girls back against him.
Suddenly he opens his eyes, immediately seeing me before them. There is recognition in his eyes—he remembers me. But he doesn’t do anything. He simply stares at me as he continues to sway to the beat, mouth latched onto this woman’s neck and hands running up and down her curves.
I don’t break eye contact. I stare at him intently and he stares back at me. Eventually another man comes up behind me, leaning down to whisper in my ear and ask me to dance. I consent and turn around to face him, bringing his face down to mine.
I can feel the man from last night’s eyes boring into my back. I sway seductively, letting the pounding beat of the music take over my body.
Eventually the new man spins me around again, wanting to dance back-to-front. I oblige. He’s still staring at me, no longer kissing the woman’s neck. He simply holds her tightly to him as he watches me move.
Finally, I become impatient. I want this man. I want him to dance with me, not some other woman. I want to feel those same sensations from last night, because the buffoon dancing on me right now is doing nothing for me. I bring a hand up to my hair, tangling it in the thick locks before drawing it aside from where it has been shielding my neck. I look into his eyes and bite my lip, turning my head aside so that he can see the soft flesh of my throat.
That does the trick. By the time I look back at him he’s already shaking himself free of the other girl, flashing her a hurried smile and nod before making his way over to me. She doesn’t seem to mind, she simply resumes dancing by herself with a group of girls who must be her friends.
I step away from the man behind me, but he keeps a grip on my waist. I roll my eyes with a heavy sigh. I’m not in the mood for this right now, that’s for sure. I turn around to deal with him, but find myself being dragged backwards by wanting hands. The other guy lets go of me with a begrudging look.
I look up over my shoulder to see him. He’s staring down at me with hunger in his eyes. We begin dancing immediately, his hands roving all over my body.
“Fancy seeing you here again,” he whispers in my ear, sending violent shivers down my spine. My body actually twitches in his arms, and he lets out a low laugh, warm breath fanning against the skin of my neck. I think again of the way his mouth felt on me.
“I wanted to find you again,” I whisper back, turning my face so that I’m speaking in his ear. “I wanted to know if last night was real.”
“Whatever do you mean?” His voice sounds delicious so close to my ear.
“The way you made me feel,” I say, my breath hitching in my chest as memories flood my mind. “What you did to me.”
“Hmmm . . .” he lets out a guttural hum which vibrates from his throat as he brushes his lips against my neck. I shiver again and I feel his lips curve up into a smile. “You want me to do to you what I did last night? You want it again?”
“Yes,” I gasp, feeling the tremors running through my body. “I want it.”
He lets out a laugh this time, and I nearly go wild with lust. “Alright. As you command.”
He hardly waits to get into it. He presses the points of his teeth against my skin, waiting mere moments before sinking them into my flesh. We’re in the middle of the dance floor still. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. This is so open, so public. There are people dancing mere feet away, swaying to the beat and kissing and sweating.
But they’re all too preoccupied with their own activities to notice the strange thing happening so close by. And I’m too quickly overcome by the ecstasy of his bite to worry about them for long. Within moments my head is lolling back again, my eyes closed and my breath coming slow and shallow. Lights and stars burst behind my eyelids, and I feel myself floating up towards the ceiling.
It ends too quickly again. I let out a low moan and grasp onto his shirt, turning around to face him.
“Don’t stop,” I pant, finding it difficult to focus on his face. Everything seems to be swimming around me, floating and fuzzy. “I want more.”
He shakes his head, or at least I think he does. “I can’t. You’ve reached your limit, darling.”
“What does that mean?” I say, realizing vaguely that my words are slurring together.
“That means if I continue,” he leans closer, tracing a finger down her jawline. “You’ll die.”
I shudder involuntarily. A smile curls across my lips. “What a wonderful way to die.”
He throws back his head in laughter, shoulders quaking. “You’re quite the interesting one, you know,” he purrs in my ear once he’s collected himself.
“Can you tell me what you are?” I whisper, dragging a hand down his chest. “You’re clearly not a normal, boring man. You’re something else. Something interesting.”
“I’m afraid that’s out of the question,” he says shortly, suddenly growing grim. “Not something you’d care for, I’m sure.”
“Oh, don’t be that way,” I moan, gripping onto his shirt even tighter. I pull myself towards him but he pulls away. “You’re magnificent. Tell me.”
“I need to leave, love,” he says, scanning the crowd around us. “Really, I do. Maybe I’ll run into you again. So long as you haven’t got any more of these silly questions.”
Before I can say another word, he grips my hands in his and pulls them away from him as if fending off an infant. And then he disappears into the crowd. I try to follow him but he’s well and truly gone, and I am left in the mass of people helpless and disappointed.
I head home early that night, having no interest in dancing with the other men. They cannot do for me what that man did. No drugs or alcohol can parallel it, even.
I arrive home and am just getting into bed when I notice something on my nightstand. A rectangular piece of paper, facedown. I stare at it for a moment, perplexed,
before remembering the previous night. It’s the object I picked up off the bathroom floor. I’d completely forgotten about it until now.
I pick it up and turn it over. It’s a business card.
Damien Carmino. Accountant.
There’s a phone number and address below his name, and for a moment I can do nothing but stare at the little square of paper and the little words inked on its front in awe. Could it possibly be his? Could this be my way of finding him again?
I lunge across the bed towards my laptop and turn it on. One quick Google search later and I’ve confirmed it . . . I’ve found my guy. His face stares up at me from the glowing laptop screen, just as alluring and beautiful as in person.
I know what I’m going to do.
*****
The next morning, I give his office a call and make an appointment. Lucky for me, one of Damien’s clients for the day cancelled last minute, and they can squeeze me in right after lunch. I spend my remaining hours obsessing over my appearance, primping and doing my makeup over and over again. Finally I settle on an acceptable hairstyle and outfit, getting out the door just in time.
I get to the office ten minutes before my appointment. The secretary takes my name and tells me Damien will be with me soon. So I sit, and I wait.
“Danielle Robineau?”
The secretary calls me back up after about fifteen minutes of waiting. I jump up and shuffle forwards.
“Damien will see you now.” She nods towards the door to my right, and I tentatively approach it. I open it slowly and step inside. At first I am too fearful to raise my eyes, but when I do I find him staring at me from across his desk.
“Funny seeing you here,” he finally says, his voice guarded. He narrows his eyes at me and I squirm uncomfortably in my chair. “How did you find me?”
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