Chapter 21
Zach
My mood is dark and
stormy. It sort of matches this stupid, fucking nightclub that Clint
and Cara have dragged me to. Again, the invite was just to me, but I
made sure to invite Moira. When we arrived and were shown to one of
the VIP areas where Cara had directed us to meet them, I could tell
by the look on her face she wasn’t happy to see Moira. By the
way Moira stood stiffly by my side, I could tell she wasn’t
happy to be in Cara’s presence either.
But there was no way
I could bear a night with Clint and Cara without her by my side. No,
that’s not exactly right. I don’t think there’s any
way I could bear a night away from Moira, which is another thought
that feels dark and stormy within me.
I’m suffering
under a swell of emotions when it comes to the beautiful red-haired
woman I’ve been fucking… and fucking well. She’s
consuming me, and I hate it and love it at the same time.
Every morning, I
wake up before her and because I’ve become accustomed to not
only sleeping on a soft mattress, but also having her body wrapped up
close to mine throughout the night, I take advantage of my morning
wood and make sure we both start the day off with an amazing orgasm
or two.
Because we spend
almost every minute of the day and night together, I find myself
becoming closer to her than probably anyone else in my life with the
exception of Paraila. We have long talks about the amazing
discoveries I’m making. Just yesterday, we sat outside a tiny,
downtown Atlanta cafe where we sipped iced coffees and talked about
terrorism. I’ve been reading up a great deal about the attacks
on 9/11, a monstrous occurrence that appalled my senses. To think
that something of that magnitude had occurred, and I had been
blissfully unaware of it while sequestered in the sanctity of my
tribal home, sort of puts things into perspective for me. This new
and modern world I’ve been immersed in is bright and amazing,
filled with wonder and potential.
But it’s also
harsh and so much more violent than the rainforest that I have to
wonder why people want to live in this society at all. It only seems
to cement my inherent desire to return home.
I’ve come to
learn a lot more about Moira. Her father and mother were both
anthropologists, which is where she got her drive and desire to
follow in their footsteps. Her sister, Lisa, is a stay-at-home
mother, having married an electrical engineer—whatever that
means—and she’s happily raising their two children on the
coast of North Carolina. My questions to her about her personal life
have become endless and so far, I know that outside of being probably
the only woman that will ever satisfy my lust, that she is funny,
smart, and mischievous. She loves old western movies because she used
to watch them with her father, and she’s terrified of cats for
some reason, but spiders don’t scare her at all. I know she
lightly snores when she sleeps on her back, but when she’s
tucked into my body on her side, she sleeps deeply and without sound.
Her favorite book is Fifty Shades of Grey … a book that
she loaned to me, but I couldn’t make it past the first
chapter. She smirked at me when I told her that and said I was
missing out on some valuable sex lessons I could put to use. I
immediately picked it back up and made myself read it, but frankly…
it didn’t teach me anything I couldn’t figure out on my
own.
Nights with Moira
are the best because we secret ourselves away in either her bedroom
or mine, and she lets me do whatever I want to her body. My favorite
thing, by far, is making her come with my mouth. Sometimes, I’ll
start with my face between her legs, but sometimes, I’ll pound
out my own orgasm first, fucking her furiously as I race to the
finish line. Then I’ll pull out of her and while I’m
still drowning from lack of oxygen, I’ll push my mouth against
her pussy and eat her all up until she’s crying out her own
orgasm.
This nightclub we’re
in is nothing I ever expected. It’s three stories tall, and
there was a huge, black man with bulging muscles and facial piercings
guarding the door. A velvet rope cordoned off the entrance, and a
long line of people waited outside to get in. Per Cara’s
instructions, I gave my name to the huge dude, and he let Moira and
me in with a brilliantly white smile.
The inside of the
building is completely open, with a massive dance floor in the middle
and a mirrored bar that spans three of the walls. The ceiling extends
three stories above and, looking up, I see several balconies lining
the walls above me, reached by private staircases. Cara had told me
that they were in VIP balcony room number three, and to just ask the
bartender where that was. Apparently, Cara and Clint come here
regularly and are afforded their own private place, in which they can
sip their fancy cocktails and watch the dancers down below.
After a quick stop
at the bar where Moira orders something called a Screwdriver and I
get myself a beer, we follow the bartender’s directions and
climb a staircase to the third level. A solid red door meets us at
the top and I push it open, immediately seeing Cara and Clint sitting
next to each other, their blond heads angled in as if they’re
having a private conversation. Even though the club is thumping with
loud music, it’s relatively quiet inside this small room, and I
see that’s due to double glass doors that are closed to the
open club. As soon as they hear us come in, their heads turn toward
us in unison.
Cara’s smile
goes bright when she sees me, but then it dims when she notices
Moira. Clint immediately jumps up, claps me on the back, and pulls
Moira in for a close hug. I immediately want to kill the fucker.
For the next two
hours, I stand at the balcony’s edge and sip on a few beers,
while I watch the dancers down below me. I keep the doors closed
because the music is grating to my ears, and it makes me long for the
soft lyrics of the tribal women who sing at our feasts. I declined
the invitation to dance, but from my perch above, I can watch Moira
as she gyrates her hips with moves so sexy that I have a perpetual
hard-on. Cara takes it one step further, moving her body in an almost
pornographic way, her arms raised above her head. Sometimes, Clint
comes up behind his sister and holds onto her hips while he sways his
own in unison with her. It looks disgusting to watch the siblings
dancing so provocatively with each other. If he even thinks about
doing that to Moira, he’s a dead man.
I watch for a moment
as they dance and wonder how soon Moira and I can leave. I have a
powerful need for her, but what else is new in my life? She’s
becoming almost a necessity to me, which further increases my
dangerous mood.
Eventually, Moira
heads off the floor, pushing her way through the mob as she heads
toward the bathroom. There’s a line almost as long as the one
outside to get in, so I know she’ll be a while. I sigh with
frustration as I watch Clint and Cara make their way back to the
staircase to join me back up on the VIP balcony.
Cara slinks into the
private room and heads straight for me. She takes me by the hand,
leading me over to the couch, and I don’t think to resist.
Clint goes over to the private mini-bar and pours himself another
drink. He and Cara have been pounding the liquor pretty hard, and
they’re both drunk.
Cara flops onto the
couch and pulls me down beside her. She drapes her arms around my
neck and says in a silky voice, “So Zach… Clint and I
were wondering if you and Moira wanted to come back to my apartment
and party with us.”
Interesting that she
invited Moira because I know she considers her a nuisance by the way
she treats her. “What do you mean by ‘party’?”
She flutters her
eyelashes at me. “Oh you know… maybe a little coke…
a little Ecstasy. Something to loosen up Miss Frigid Pants.”
I have no clue what
she means by any of this, but it doesn’t sound like something I
would enjoy, nor would I want Moira to experience it with them. “I
think we’ll take a pass.”
Clint walks up
behind us to stand behind the couch. With his drink in one hand, he
reaches another out and caresses Cara softly on the back of her neck.
“If you’re not into a four-way, we can split off.”
“Split off?”
I ask stupidly, because while I think I have an idea of what he’s
saying, the prospect is starting to cause my blood to boil.
“Yeah,”
Clint says as his glazed eyes stare at me. “Cara and I get off
on the group sex thing but, if that doesn’t appeal, you can
have a crack at Cara and I’d love to fuck Moira until she can
barely stand.”
My vision goes red,
and I actually get a moment of brief dizziness from the blazing rage
that filters through me. Not at the offer to do a four-way because
only these vacuous people would be so deviant as to suggest something
like that, and I find that not surprising in the least. But fury
rises swift over Clint thinking he could even be entitled to breathe
the same air as Moira, much less think he can fuck her.
I surge off the
couch, turning toward Clint with a murderous stare. “What did
you just say?”
He has no clue the
danger he’s in, and I notice Cara watches me with a lustful
gleam in her eye. “Moira,” Clint repeats as if I’m
stupid. “I want to fuck her. I bet she has the sweetest,
tightest pus—”
I go flying across
the couch, leaping it with ease, and slam my hands into Clint’s
chest. He goes careening back into the wall beside the mini-bar,
causing glasses to lurch and two bottles to fall over where they
shatter on the floor. His own drink goes flying, and then I’m
on him. Wrapping both hands around his neck, I squeeze and watch his
eyes fly open in fear.
“Oh, Zach…
why the dramatics?” Cara drawls from her perch on the couch. I
see her sitting there watching us with mild interest, but she frankly
seems bored. “If you don’t want to, you just have to say