A Rite of Passage

The cab drops you off in front of the club. It's early yet, but even so, there is a line forming to get in. The low thumping of bass can be felt even through the thick wall and every time the door opens to let someone else in, the building screams out a staccato snarl. Waiting in line, you look around at the fellow club goers. Smoothly dressed gentlemen with their smiles of confidence. Horny guys with their looks of desire and laughs of bravado. Sultry women, somehow appearing sexy and disdainful at the same time. And you. You who are celebrating the right of passage that is turning twenty-one. Oh sure, you had your party with your friends. Drinking beers. Laughing about guys. Truth or dare. But tonight is different. Tonight is the night that is all about you. Your back straightens with a confidence that your eyes don't reflect. But, now it's your turn to enter the door. There is no turning back now.

The doorman asks for your ID. He looks it over carefully. Yes, you know you look young. You've always hated that. Hey little girl! You sure you're old enough to ride? You hear the taunts of your classmates ringing in your ears and for a second, are concerned that you won't be able to enter. No worries, though. The doorman hands you back your id and stamps your hand. The door opens and you cross the threshold into another world. Your senses are immediately assaulted. Your nose smells the primal essences wafting in the air. Smoke from the cigarettes mixes with the acrid smell of alcohol and sweat. But there is another scent. One that stands out but it is unfamiliar. The muted colors; black, red, purple, blue are all around you. They remind you of the night. Nothing bright. Nothing to focus on. The music has wormed it's way into your soul. Your body unconsciously moves with the rhythm. Each step is in perfect match to the beat, carrying you further inside.

The lights above the bar shine like a beacon, an oasis of tranquility from the chaos that greets your vision when you finally enter the dance hall. Bodies, all moving separately, yet as one dance to the beat pushed out of the speakers. Your eyes are drawn to the women dancing on the speakers. Skirts so short, shirts cut at the midriff. Your face wrinkles with distaste and wonder how anyone can dress like that as you unconsciously smooth the non existent wrinkles in your own skirt. Making your way to the bar is a challenge in itself. Your used to politeness. Gentlemen moving quickly out of the your way so that you can pass. Here, no one moves for you. They aren't rude. They just don't care. You are not important enough to be noticed yet. That right has to be earned. The barman smiles at you while checking your hand for the telltale mark that can only be seen under florescent light. You order a Jack and coke. It's your Dad's favorite. He brings it to you and, for a second, your eyes meet. There is a message behind his eyes. Be careful. Keep your wits about you. You smile back, handing him your birthday present. $200 prepaid Visa. Spend it wisely, your Mom said when she gave it to you. You wonder for a second if coming here counts as spending it wisely.

Taking the first sip, you involuntarily cough and sputter. IT BURNS. You hear light laughter around you and know that that was because of you. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment and you do your best to casually walk away with dignity. The song changes into something you know. The familiarity gives you a little boost of confidence and you casually stroll around the club, trying to find a place to sit and relax. To gather your thought. Eyes follow you. Some casually, watching you pass with an admiration. Some blatant, turning their heads, whispering to their friends. You smile inwardly. You know you could have any guy in here tonight. You look that good. Taking another sip, it becomes apparent that there are no seats. Too many people, too few chairs. You look around again. Surely, there has to be somewhere to sit. Your lips touch ice as you tilt the drink back again. Empty. You drank it down without even realizing it. The looks are starting to creep you out. You don't want to stand out. No one else here does. They all look like they belong here. The eyes upon you are starting to make you feel like a piece of meat, a walking good time. You are a deer surrounded by a pack of wolves.

You are carrying the empty glass around, just to hold something in your hands. Contemplating leaving and coming back next week with some friends. Maybe even your older sister. She told you about this place. How much fun it was. You're starting to think that she's full of shit. Then you notice the smell again. It's beautiful. Cutting through the stench that surrounds you, leading you to the back corner. Shadows surround it, covering it from sight but you can see the outline of a body. Strobe lights briefly illuminate the room and you notice that it's a woman. Beautiful, elegant. And she is looking right at you. For the quickest seconds, yours and her eyes meet and you see the message behind them. Come to me. I will protect you. Guard you from this harshness. You wonder again if you should leave. Nothing is stopping you. But you don't. Maybe it's the drink. Maybe it's her eyes. You walk over, trying your best to do so with confidence. She is smiling at you. The warmth behind the smile is not quite matched by the look in her gaze. Up close, you see that she is not beautiful, she is stunning. Older then you thought, though. Late 30's, early 40's. You asks politely if you could sit down and her eyes dart to the empty chair at her table. She nods and you smile. "Thanks." you say. "There's nowhere else. I'm Lisa by the way." You hold out your hand as a way of introduction. She takes it and, for the briefest second, you think she's going to kiss it. But it's merely a handshake. "Raven." is all she says, still smiling.

She motions with her hand, and even in the shadows like you are, the waitress sees the movement and walks over. You can't help but notice her too tight shirt, tucked in to the jeans that seem to hug her body. Her name tag says "Destiny" and you swear that you aren't looking at her breasts! Just the logo on her tee shirt. Destiny's voice startles you. "Miss, do you want anything?" While you are fumbling for a quick answer, Raven just smiles and says that we'll have two. Destiny smiles, turns and walks away. Your eyes travel down to her ass and when you turn back to Raven, she is looking right at you, smiling again. You blush, realizing how that must have looked, and try desperately to find a smooth way out of this embarrassment. Again, the smell hits your nostrils. You realize what it is, perfume. Coming from this woman seated in front of you. You close your eyes and, for a second, the world falls away. "Wow. That's really a great perfume!" you say, trying to sound sophisticated. Raven flashes her teeth, smiling broader now. "It's called Maizy. From France. I always make sure to get a bottle whenever I go back."

Destiny returns with your drink. It's purple tinged. You take a sip, expecting the burning of last time, but it doesn't come. Only a pleasant warmth. You feel your confidence returning in the presence of Raven. The night passes quickly. Small talk, pleasant conversation. You answer all of her questions. The intimacy broken only by the occasional visit from Destiny, bringing you another one of those delicious drinks. The world falls away. Raven is right. She is protecting you from all of the predators out there. You feel safe and warm in the shadows with her. You feel like you belong here. But, too soon, it ends. Last call. The club is closing. You try your best to gracefully rise, but end up stumbling in your heels, legs wobbling. A hand grasps your arm, helping you to steady and you feel the energy from Raven as she smiles at you. Again, your eyes meet hers and again, you hear the message in your brain Little one, I will protect you. Let me guide you through those who would do you harm. Giving her a wan smile in return, you let Raven lead you out of the club. Marveling at her steadiness, her grace as she leads you out to the chill air. You involuntarily shudder at the coldness and feel the smoothness of satin as she drapes her jacket over your shoulders. Again, the scent of her fills you. What did she call the perfume. You can't remember as the smell adds to the fog in your brain.

"No need to call a cab. I'll take you home. It's not far." you try to tell Her that there is no need to. That you don't want to impose on Her time. But all you can manage is a weak smile and thanks as the valet pulls the Viper up to the front. you don't remember telling her where you live. you must have, though. She said it wasn't far. She helps you in the passenger seat. The cars roars to life and soothing sounds float through the speakers. you feel yourself drifting, floating in and out of consciousness. But soon, too soon, your door opens. This isn't your house, the voice in your head is screaming. But you follow Her inside. She removes your jacket and Her voice fills your ears. "Welcome to my parlor."