Waves of propulsive energy roll across the wide concrete floor of the Noise Factory, as high above the crowd manic magnetic DJs spin out one seductive dance tune after another, drawing to their feet an army of the young and beautiful who spin and grind and vibrate as if their lives depended on it. It is another Saturday night in one of the hottest clubs in LA, and the atmosphere could not be more electric.
In an intimate alcove just off the main dance floor two couples sit in huddled communion, flirting, laughing, and thoroughly enjoying everything their attractive companions might say, and determined to leave behind the routine worries of the workweek. Tonight, they are out for fun, and not just any fun, but the most sensual and stimulating fun they can find. For now at least, that means another frantic spin on the dance floor. And so as the music rises, they rise too, and head for the hard pulsating beat and the furious flashing lights and irresistible allure of the hip, fast-moving crowd.
But as the evening wears on, they begin to wear down, and so one of the four, a striking young woman named Jo with clever brown eyes and shoulder-length auburn hair, suggests they retire to her flat nearby and continue the party there.
Like the girl herself, Jo's apartment is comfortable and yet unmistakably urbane and elegant. Set on one of the upper floors of a restored old warehouse in a fast gentrifying commercial area near downtown, the space is bright, open and colorful, decorated with a number of pieces from the well-heeled Westside art gallery that Jo manages. And while Jo has gone to great pains to maintain the industrial look of the loft, she has chosen to populate it with lots of modern touches, including large comfortable chairs and a wide cream-colored sofa with maroon throw pillows. The overall impression is decidedly one of free-spiritedness and an adventurous nature.
Jo and her good-looking boyfriend Abel, a young black man with honey brown skin and big soulful brown eyes, mix the drinks and kid each other as their companions Marco and Marie settle in on the long Swedish-style sofa. Marco points out how Jo has lots of furniture that is Swedish in origin which prompts Marie to giggle tipsily.
Jo and Abel return with the drinks and all four quickly resume their easygoing, joking and good-natured repartee.
As the drinks start to run low, Jo rises to get more, but before she can get to the bar, handsome, quick-witted Marco springs up and gets there first, insisting that he be the one to mix the next round. Marco with his dark sultry eyes and thick mane of raven-black hair is unmistakably Latino, and so remarkably sexy that he draws stares wherever he goes.
"Let me do it, chica," he says to Jo. "I used to be a bartender—remember?"
"When did you ever bartend?" she asks doubtfully.
"Don't you remember? I picked it up in college doing part-time jobs and even did it for a while after I moved here. I'm pretty darn good at it, if I do say so myself."
"I don't remember any of that. Did you do it when we dated?"
"Of course, querida
,
the whole time."
"Fine. Do it. But I don't recall any of that."
"Ay, Jo, you don't remember anything," he says as he starts gleefully tossing booze and seltzer into the glasses.
"You dated Marco?" Marie asks anxiously.
"Ages ago," Jo says as she leans over to Abel seated in one of the easy chairs and squeezes his knee. "Before I found this gorgeous hunk of man here. Sorry, Marco. You had your chance."
"Boo hoo hoo," Marco says in mock regret. "That's ancient history. Jo and I just weren't right for each other."
He begins bringing the drinks over to the others. "Try this, Jo. I put a twist of lemon in yours."
"Thank you, Marcolito. You know me too well." She takes a sip of the drink. "Oo, yes, this is good."
"So, boys and girls,
"
Marco announces with great pride, "I hate to brag but did anyone else notice that all the boys in the club were checking out my date tonight? Marie, baby doll, hands down you were the hottest girl on the dance floor."
As Marie blushes at the compliment, Jo jumps right in.
"I noticed! I noticed!" Jo volunteers turning tipsily to Marie. "Oh, it's true, girl. You were rocking it in that tight little dress of yours. Do you know it shows every curve of your ass every time you move?"
"Oh, uh, no," Marie says, blushing an even deeper red. She is obviously eating up all this attention. "It must be the color, I think. I always did look good in blue silk."
Jo laughs. "Oh, sweetie, I wasn't looking at the dress. I was looking at you inside the dress. Come on," Jo says, getting to her feet and extending her hand to Marie.
She draws Marie to her feet and slips her arm around her. "I would love to know how it feels to dance with you."
She pulls Marie close and move sensually about the floor, lightly humming some danceable tune. Marie may be shy but she is obviously feeling no pain and thoroughly enjoying all the attention Jo is bestowing on her. She begins to giggle even more.
"Anybody ever tell you look like Kristen Stewart?" Jo whispers in her ear and then without missing a beat she plants a kiss on Marie's lips. When Marie starts to respond, Jo ups the ante, turning what was a sweet kiss into a smoldering one.
Both of the young men's mouths drop open as they watch the heated display unfolding in front of them. Meanwhile Jo is only getting started with Marie.
"You look hot in that dress," she croons to Marie. "But I'm betting you look even better out of it."
And with that Jo slips behind Marie and begins unzipping the shimmery little cocktail dress. Again, Marie blushes but makes no effort to stop her, biting her bottom lip as the lightweight dress falls open and then flutters to the floor, leaving the slender girl naked except for a pair of sheer panties. Marie starts to cover her breasts with her arms, but Jo, still behind her, reaches around and pulls her arms away and then covers the breasts with her own hands as she moves in close to Marie's beautiful body. As Marie shudders and gasps, Jo begins nuzzling the nape of her neck.
With a big lusty grin on his face Marco slides on the sofa over to where Abel is sitting.
"
Hey, man
,
can you believe Jo?" he says nudging Abel on the knee. "The girl has balls."
"No shit," Abel chuckles.
"Hey, amigo," Marco says, directing his attention to Abel, "come on, we can't let these girls show us up."
Marco pulls Abel to his feet and then deftly slips his hand around the young man's neck. He brings Abel's face close to his own, allowing the rough feel of his stubble to rake across Abel's smooth cheek. He moves in as if to kiss him, but then hesitates mere inches from Abel's mouth, instead sniffing him, licking and tasting his skin, and nuzzling his face just as Jo is nuzzling Marie.
Abel gasps as their lips connect, the contact going through him like a thunderbolt, and then gasps again as Mario's well-honed body begins to close around him.
He responds instantly, kissing back, accepting the probing tongue as it slides into his mouth, melting into the warm masculine body. But then Marco's kiss goes deeper, becomes hotter, more probing, more intimate, and then as if by reflex Abel suddenly pulls away, instinctively reacting against the idea of touching this incredibly attractive young man.
"You OK, man?" Marco asks, disoriented, confused by Abel's forceful withdrawal. He moves to rest his hand of Abel's shoulder but is shocked when Abel jerks away from even that much contact.
Meanwhile Abel, looking dazed, is starting to shake all over.
"Jesus fucking Christ
,
dude, maybe you should sit down."
He watches as Abel sinks onto the sofa, then glances over his shoulder toward Jo who is too busy making hay with Marie to notice what is going on with her boyfriend. She has already completely unbuttoned her own blouse and is about to take it off when Marco gets her attention.
"Yo, Jo, I think we're got a problem over here."
Confused and concerned, she quickly rebuttons her blouse and come over to check out Abel. She touches his forehead and cheek and discovers he is breaking out in a cold clammy sweat.
"What's happening?" Marie asks as she goes to grab her own clothes and quickly starts pulling them back on.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Abel mutters, burying his face in his hands. He shakes his head when Jo asks if he is going to be sick.
"Sweetie, it's OK," she says reassuringly, stroking his head. She motions for Marco to go to the bar and get Abel a glass of water. Meanwhile, Marie having zipped up her dress goes over to where Marco is pouring the drink.
"Maybe we should go," she whispers to Marco.
"No . . . dammit!" Abel mutters, lifting his head. "Look, I'm OK. You don't have to go."
But already Marco and Marie are making their way over to a rack by the door where their jackets are hanging.
"Hey, guys, we had a great time," Marco says with mock cheer. "But, seriously, it's late. We gotta go. Maybe we'll do it again sometime."
"Thanks, Marco," Jo says as she continues to softly stroke Abel's head. Meanwhile, Abel just sits looking dazed.
"Fucking shit. I can't believe this."
"Forget it, baby. It's no big deal. Let it go. It's just one night."
"But it was supposed to be special. I . . . don't know what happened . . ."
"I mean it, Abel. Let it go. Some things just weren't meant to be. And right now, I just want to go to bed."
