Chapter Two

Kelly

“You know, you’ll have to deal with your issues sometime. In our line of existence, they won’t make your life any easier. We are women of excellent caliber and extraneous circumstances. It is time you faced that. It has been a little over a month, Kel, and you should be more relaxed by now.” Sara huffed at her black bangs, her deep caramel-toned eyes flashing tiny flames of frustration.

The tips of her fangs were revealed when she smiled, but many people in this place wore fake fangs, so she blended right in with them.

I tried to adjust the barely-there, snug black top Sara had talked me into. I hoped to cover more of me somehow, but it just wasn’t going to happen.

My hair was down, thankfully hanging around me. For that decision alone, I was eternally grateful. I had come here with no expectations, and now I was waiting for someone to point at me and laugh hysterically. My anxiety fluttered in my stomach, as I was prone to some panic attacks.

Or, more to the point, they had increased dramatically when we moved to the city. Up in the interior, where there hadn’t been any neighbors for miles, I had never had this problem. Well, most of the time, anyway.

“Yeah, I know, but this is like throwing me into the deep end of a pool without first showing me how to swim,” I responded without hope. I smiled unwillingly when Sara laughed at how depressed I sounded about it.

She grabbed my hand and pulled me off the table with a too-familiar mischievous gleam on her face.

What could she possibly have planned for me now?

It was then that a pretty blonde woman wrapped in a leather bodysuit walked by us. A vast, intimidating man followed closely behind, who wasn’t even qualifying as dressed, in my opinion, unless you included just leather underwear.

The oddest part was the thin leash he held, attached to a thick collar around the woman’s throat, the same design of leather and steel as Sara’s bracelets. I wasn’t the one wearing it, yet I was embarrassed by the symbolism —the mark of being controlled.

Sara turned back to me, the merriment plain on her face. She was debating on collaring me. She was right. I needed to relax. I was constantly stressed and exhausted. I hadn’t been sleeping well. The desperate hunger had been gnawing at me continuously, wearing away at my resolve. If it weren’t for the fact that I was severely malnourished, I would be at home in bed, where I should be. An easy meal was the only reason Sara had convinced me to come here.

Another woman walked by with no shirt on at all. Her ample breasts were hypnotically swaying as she moved.

I gawked like any outsider would have, labeling me 'other' when prudence would have been safer and wiser. No one else even seemed to notice the half-naked woman, but people saw me ogling her.

“It is only forbidden to show skin below the belt; up top is allowed. It’s legal here, even outdoors, but not many do, whether they are allowed to or not. Unless they’re at Wreck Beach, which I should take you to, even at night. Let’s go dance.” Sara dragged me out into the middle of the dance floor, gyrating her hips to the turbulent beat of the music as she went.

How did one dance to techno and not look like an utter idiot? I knew it could be done because I was watching various prime examples of it, but I also knew I couldn’t convince myself of some of the things displayed so eloquently around me. Even when I tried, it didn’t even come close to the fluidity and graceful movements that flowed from one to the next in a symphony of motion.

Sara performed a series of dance maneuvers that resembled an epileptic seizure. Staring at her, I didn’t know whether to laugh or call an ambulance. I then understood why it was called “trance music.”

Between the beat, the people, and the atmosphere, our senses were tranquil, almost unresponsive to the standard stimuli the world around us produced. It nearly felt like a bomb could explode, and not one of us would notice.

Sara took my hands in hers, attempting to shift my body in a more accurate rendition of those around us. Something in me let go, for once forgetting there were so many people here to see me do anything that would draw attention to myself.

It was the last thing my fragile contentment needed.

My hips swayed, finding a sensual rhythm that conveyed the music's movement rather than its sound, or so I hoped.

With Sara, I could be who I wanted to be, and she wouldn’t laugh or think me a bit off. I just tended to forget that when my anxiety started to choke me. When it began to steal my breath and what little confidence I had.

Maybe there was intelligence to her words. It was time for me to embrace what this life had given me. My eyes surveyed the sexually charged crowd, contemplating who my target would be if I brought myself to choose one at all.

It was unfortunate that I didn’t know the decision had already been taken out of my hands. An unknowing shiver went through me, but I wasn’t aware of the man staring at me with feral hunger in his eyes.

“Wow, Kel. Look at her; I love that dress,” Sara roared, pointing at the poor woman.

I laughed when the woman thought Sara was checking her out and not the dress. When the woman winked, Sara laughed, but she ignored the polite beckoning to come over.

I knew Sara delved into both sexes when it suited her. She loved being bi-sexual. Being able to do what she wanted, with whom she wanted, and when she wanted.

However, I was here, and she wouldn’t ditch me for a woman. I was straight, and I was relatively sure I would remain that way.

“I think she likes you.” I grinned.

“I think so, too, but you are my main concern this evening. I am not looking to get laid, but your needs must be met before the bar closes tonight.” Sara waved off the woman, instantaneously forgetting she existed.

I thought that was rude, but who was I to say anything?