Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
TEDDIE
"This place is going off." Lyra pushed out of the ride share and closed the door behind her.
I took a moment to rate the driver and give her a tip before following my friend toward the front door of Vertical nightclub.
Located on the outskirts of Saltgrave, the place used to be a warehouse. It still looked like one on the outside, except for the banging music.
“Oh my fucking god, it's masquerade night," Lyra said, clutching my arm.
A collection of people, their face covered in a variety of masks, lingered near the door. Some smoking, others nursing drinks in plastic cups.
"Are you sure it's not a BookTok convention?" I asked, keeping my voice down so only Lyra could hear.
She grinned at me and laughed. "That sounds good, I might pick up a villain tonight."
Beside the door, a woman stood behind a table piled high with a variety of flimsy, plastic masks.
"How do I look?" Lyra said, picked up a mask to hold up in front of her.
Bright pink with gold around the eyes, it covered half her face, leaving her mouth exposed.
She pushed out her lips as if she was about to take a selfie, and posed with her hand on her hip.
She could have been an Instagram model without the mask.
With it, she looked mysterious and gorgeous.
“You’re beautiful," I said.
The mask I chose was more understated. Black with silver around the eyes and lips. It covered my whole face, leaving my hair to spread out around me like a crown.
"You look adorable," Lyra assured me. She grabbed my wrist and dragged me inside.
The place was packed. Bodies writhed to the music. Lights flashed. The whole place vibrated with energy and sound. Sweat and alcohol mixed with cologne and perfume.
The temperature inside was stifling in spite of the air conditioning.
Thank fuck I'd worn a red tank top, and a black leather knee length skirt I'd borrowed from Lyra.
She also wore a tank top, hers in black, contrasting with leather pants I never could have gotten away with.
They hugged her figure in a way that made people stop and stare.
They moved aside as she made her way towards the bar, me tagging along behind.
"Two vodka and orange, please," Lyra ordered the from the man behind the bar.
His face was covered in so many piercings, I lost count after the first twenty or so. A tattoo of a tiger wound its way down the side of his face. He had the kind of build that made him look terrifying, but a warm smile for both of us.
He made our drinks and slid them over to us before moving on to another customer.
I picked up mine, slipped the straw under my mask and sipped, standing with my back to the bar so I could scan the room.
Everyone I could see was wearing a mask. Some looked like Scream. A couple wore Deadpool masks. I even caught sight of one that looked like some kind of pony, and another was a giant taco.
I sensed someone watching me before I noticed a man on the edge of the dance floor, his back against the black-painted brick wall.
His dark shirt was unbuttoned almost down to his navel, showing a muscular chest, sprinkling of hair, and a hint of abs.
His jeans clung to his thighs like a second skin.
Thighs, mind you, that looked like they could break a girl in half.
His mask resembled a skull; intense, almost hollow. His eyes were shadows in the eye holes. He raised his drink to toast me before pressing the straw into the side of his mask and taking a drink.
"Go and talk to him," Lyra said. "If you're going to stare like that, you might as well jump right in." She shooed at me.
"I'm not staring," I said, breaking my gaze.
She snorted. "Yes, you were. That's okay, you know. He looks hot."
"How can you tell?" I asked. "He has a mask on."
She scoffed. ”I can tell from what I can see with my eyeballs. You could ask him to keep the mask on. Maintain the illusion until you get an orgasm.” She slide her tongue across her lips, deliberately salacious.
"You're such a romantic," I said sarcastically.
She grinned. "Who needs romance when you can have orgasms?"
“Huh, you have a point," I admitted. Then, with a sigh, “He’s probably here with someone."
As I finished saying that, two other men pushed through the crowds toward him. One dressed in a dark T-shirt and black jeans. The other in cargo pants and a sleeveless top that hugged his shredded body.
I couldn't tell if what they were saying was friendly or not. The man’s body language was tense, but without seeing his face, I couldn’t be sure. I sensed he was irritated with them.
That was more or less confirmed when he waved them both off and stalked in our direction.
"See? He's coming to you," Lyra said excitedly.
"He's coming to the bar," I said as he shoved his way in a few feet from us.
"Same again," he shouted. The bartender nodded and pulled out a bottle of apple juice from the fridge. He filled a fresh glass and placed it on the bar in front of the masked guy.
"Apple juice?" Lyra mouthed.
I shrugged. I wasn't going to judge the drink choices of a total stranger.
He paid for the juice and stepped away from the bar, straight over to us. To me, because Lyra muttered something about going to the restroom and disappeared through the throng.
“Wait—” I started to say, but she was gone, lost in the crowds.
"Hey." He gave me a nod.
"Hi." I nodded back, grateful for the mask so he couldn’t see me rolling my eyes at myself.
"It's crazy as fuck in here tonight.” He gestured over his shoulder with his spare hand.
"Yeah, it is," I agreed.
We didn't say anything for a minute or two, instead standing and watching people dance. I moved my hips to the music, singing along to the lyrics I knew.
"Do you dance?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he took my empty cup, setting it on the bar, and placed a hand on my lower back to guide me away from the bar.
His hands on my hips, he pulled me against his rock hard body. Froze and took half a step back, leaving room between us.
Tentatively, I placed my hands on his shoulders. Then over them, so my forearms rested on either side of his neck, giving him every chance to pull away if he wanted to.
He didn’t. He leaned in, his nose close to my hair. "You smell incredible," he said, moving his body in time with mine.
"You don't smell too bad yourself." Leather, and was that black cherry? Whatever it was, it was a heady combination. "Are you driving tonight?"
He leaned back to look in my eyes. His were gray, like the sky before a storm burst. I could just make them out in the shadows of his mask. Currently, they held confusion.
"You were drinking apple juice," I said to clarify. "I was wondering if it was because you were driving."
"Ah." His shoulders relaxed. "No. I'm careful about what I put in my body."
"Me too," I said. Apparently the vodka made me brave, because that was a blatant innuendo.
A moment of silence followed my words before he said, "I'm sure you are. You seem… I don’t know, discerning."
"I definitely am," I agreed. I searched for something else to say but came up blank, so I focused on the music instead. Humming along to the words, singing a couple I actually knew.
He dropped his hands, his fingers pressing lightly against my ass as if he didn't realize what he was doing. I didn't object or pull away. If anything, I liked the way they felt. This night was promising.
He left them there, lingering, swaying to a song by a local band. The tips of his fingers touching my ass cheeks every so often.
"I like this song," I said.
Lyra and I saw them perform on the beach a time or two, but I couldn't remember the lyrics.
I loved that Vertical nightclub supported local acts.
Saltgrave Cove was a small city that looked after its own.
That was one of the reason why my fathers moved here.
This was the kind of community they wanted me raised in.
Not somewhere big and soulless, but not so small there weren't any opportunities.
"Me too," he said. "Scarlet Felony are my favorite."
"Same here," I said. "You mean the band, right?
" Even though he couldn't see it, I grinned, knowing it'd show in my eyes.
I realized I didn't know his name. Blonde hair stuck out from the side of his mask. Blondie was as good a name as any right now. If we never exchanged names or numbers, that was okay with me. I wasn’t ready for anything too intense.
Not yet. Some day, for sure, but not tonight.
Blondie laughed. "Them too." His hands tightened on my ass pulling me closer to him. Our groins grazed against each other, only our clothes between us.
I felt his cock stir, straining the front of his pants.
It had been too long since I'd been with anyone. Between study, work, and worrying about my dads, I hadn't made the time, and the opportunity hadn't presented itself. It seemed to be presenting itself now. Thick and hard.
"Do you want to get some air?" he asked.
"Yeah, let's go." I agreed.
The people around us might not object to us fucking here on the dance floor, but we might get kicked out if we did.
Lyra would be annoyed if I was banned from the place.
Honestly, so would I. Outside of Loams, this was our favorite place to come for fun.
Especially this kind of fun. Hooking up wasn’t something I did in front of my dads.
I let Blondie take my hand and lead me off the dance floor, toward the back door of the nightclub.
The air was cooler outside, fresh after being packed in like sardines. The parking lot was dark, except for the lights from the former warehouse next door, now a brothel called Horizontal. Yeah, the places were owned by the same person, who evidently had a sense of humor.
I started to take my mask off, but he grabbed my wrist.
"Leave it on," he said. "I don't know about you, but I like a bit of mystery."
I hesitated for a moment before dropping my hand back to my side.
"Okay, yeah, I do too." The idea of fucking someone without knowing his identity? That was more arousing than it should be. I didn't care. My blood was on fire, burning hotter as he led me deeper into the parking lot, over to a dark corner where we wouldn't be seen or disturbed.
Hands on my hips again, he pressed me up against a dark car. His hands wandered down to cup my ass, before he was sliding one under my skirt. He rested it at the base of my ass cheek, his fingers between my thighs, not quite touching my pussy.
I pressed a hand between us, down to the front of his jeans.
His cock was straining to get free. He was big, pressed hard against the fabric.
Warm under my palm. I gave him a squeeze.
A little taste of what I wanted to do to him.
I needed to curl my fingers around him. To feel his head, slick with pre-cum, under the pad of my thumb.
I needed to hear him almost come apart before he slid into my body.
He groaned. “I want—" he started.
"There you are." The two men who approached him in the club were winding their way through the cars, heading toward us.