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Fifth Circle
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I’ve never paid for sex and I don’t plan to start now.
But if there was ever a woman who could convince me to do it, it’s this one.
I’m not sure how much time passes while she continues dancing and I stand a breath away, so damn close that I’m surprised she can’t sense me staring at her.
She’s that lost to what she’s doing, so far gone from this moment and everything around her that I can imagine her becoming the music.
And fuck…she can move.
I’m as lost to her as she is to the beat, and I can’t imagine anything more beautiful or intriguing.
At least until she finally opens her eyes and discovers me.
You would think my close proximity would startle her, that she’d lose that perfect pace she keeps with the music pumping through both of our veins.
She doesn’t.
Not even in a little.
Instead, her eyes remain locked on mine for a few seconds, her full lips parting just a touch to draw in a deeper breath.
At first, I think it’s the swirls of color crashing down from the dancing lights above our heads, but then I realize her violet eyes are natural, a shade I’ve never seen in another person.
I stand mesmerized as she continues dancing while studying me, those violet eyes slowly moving down my body and back up.
A barely-there smile graces her stunning face.
“You just going to stand there all night, or are you planning on dancing with me?”
“I can’t dance,” I confess. “Not like you anyway.”
Her smile widens. “Then why are you up here?”
Another confession, one filled with so much need that I hate to admit it.
“I want some time alone with you. In a back room, where you belong to just me for an hour.”
She takes a moment, considers it.
“I don’t usually go to the back rooms.”
“Don’t usually and never are two different things.”
My counter-argument causes the corner of her mouth to curl.
“Aren’t you the observant one? Okay. Give me five minutes and I’ll meet you by the bar.”
Nodding my head at that, I keep my eyes trained on her and finish my beer, not bothering to step away immediately to give her space.
The entire time, she never stops dancing. Never once loses the beat. It’s impressive and aggravating at the same time.
I want to startle her, for some reason.
Knock her off course.
Affect her in some minor way.
But given how she continues staring at me while keeping pace with the driving beat of music, I doubt I’m able to affect her at all.
Soft laughter flies over those full lips. “I said five minutes, champ. The clock doesn’t start until you walk away.”
Instead of giving ground, I lean in closer. She doesn’t so much as flinch.
“Don’t tell me you’re the bossy type,” I tease.
She stares at me for a few seconds, her body swaying like a siren leading me straight to the gates of hell.
“I can be anything you want, crazy boy. The only question is whether you can afford it.”
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