The Club

Boston's waterfront always was a place for socially borderline personalities to gather. A place where a man's worth was measured not by the cut of his coat, but the pluck with which he wears it. Investors have poured in, over the last few decades, and with this influx of capital the area is becoming gentrified. Now the waterfront is the "Seaport District". The junkies relocated to the South End when the methadone clinic moved near the medical center. The pimps and whores migrated online for greener pastures. Generally speaking, the unsavory element is gone, While the area is considered safe, a hard undercurrent of humanity is sometimes found at 'The Club'.

In the 70's, an outlaw biker gang acquired a run-down building near the wharfs. To taunt the police, they painted "The Club" in massive letters across the front of the wooden facade. Eventually, the bikers were run out (or more accurately, priced out) and left the building abandoned. The derelict property, which everyone colloquially called "the Club", was purchased, and turned into a dance hall. While technically the bar was named 'Wild Pete's Tavern' (there is a small sign over the door to prove it), everyone still calls it 'The Club", as there are faded, white, ten-foot tall letters across the front proclaiming it.

On Tuesdays DJ Pauly does a throwback night, throwing in a healthy dose of old school classics in his normally modern set. To set the mood, Pauly likes to dress as a caricature of an old school sleazy DJ. He slicks his hair back, veils his eyes in retro Oakley shades, wraps an obligatory 14 carat gold Italian horn and chain around his pudgy neck, and douses himself in what seems like a gallon of 'Red', from his World of Polo cologne gift set. Pauly wears too much Polo, and everyone makes fun of him. He usually retorts, "A man has to smell gooood!", drawing out the last syllable for effect, but deep down, even he knows it is way too much.

In truth, the World of Polo set is a yearly Christmas gift from his Nonna. Pauly has lived with her since his teenage mother died from an overdose weeks after his birth, forty-one years ago. Multiple strokes have crippled Nonna and robbed her of most of her sense of smell. Before he goes to work each night, Pauly stops at her worn chair and leans down to kiss her forehead. When the freshly sprayed cologne wafts over her, she lights up as cologne cuts through her foggy nose. He loves to see her twinkle in her eyes when she knows he's wearing the gift. Sure, he is teased about the amount he wears, but his Nonna's authentic smile is worth the ribbing he'll get.

The crowd moves in rhythm to the pulsing music, keeping an imperfect time to the beat. They are joyously ignorant of external distractions, ignorant of all except for the small clusters of space they carve out and claim on the floor. Eager to shed the stress and miserable drudgery of the long week, they come for release. Even though the crowd is barely at half capacity the air in The Club is hot and thick. Heat from the dance floor lights and the dancing bodies, turn the dim room into a dizzying, sweaty sauna. Yet there is an electricity in the air, a wild vibe.

Dancing in the middle of the floor, surrounded by a group of friends, is Natalie. Her long brown hair whips with every twitch of her head and her lithe body flows with movement. It's been ages since the friend group has been out at the same time, and her unfettered joy keeps a smile on her face as she dances wildly in a new dress.

"I love the way that little black dress fits you," a voice yells over the music.

She turns to see Livy, her best friend and freshman roommate from college. It's been years since that first semester at B.U. and they still hang out every chance they get. Livy is Southern Californian but stayed in Boston after getting her marketing degree. She says she fell in love with the city, but the reality it was a boy. Natalie grew up a local, well as local as a suburban girl can be. In most ways they are nothing alike, but it doesn't matter. Deep down they love each other like sisters.

Livy is right about the dress. Sleeveless with mild V-neck, a sheer back dropping dangerously close to her ass, and a hem daringly flows just above mid-thigh. Natalie searched for weeks for a dress to show off the curves of her taut body and this one does it like no other. In it she radiates both femininity and strength. The dress elevates her confidence from attractive career woman, to smoldering goddess.

As her confident attitude increases, her sex appeal explodes and she becomes intimidatingly hot. All men say they want a goddess, but most are too timid to approach. Not only does she love the way she feels in the dress, she loves that it makes men feel she is out of their league. This feeling is not conceit, but just an effective armor in the company of 'thirsty' men.

"Yeah Nats, you look fucking amazing!", yelled Nick, Livy's new love. He was good looking in a way, if you like the generic, aging, frat boy type. He is much too new to speak to her in this familiar tone. His voice betrays that it is only a matter of time before he hits on her, like most of Livy's asshole boyfriends. Natalie faces him and sees his eyes fixated on her breasts; an awestruck look plastered on his face. He bites his lower lip and after a half a second, she quickly looks away to hide her utter disgust. Instinctively turning her body away from him she looks out across the floor. Looking out see past the lights of the dance floor, she can only make out figures in the darkness, no faces, but she feels their eyes on her.

Nick's comment would have dropped harmlessly except for two things. First, he had a nasally, yet booming voice. Secondly, he yells over the music at the very moment Pauly drops a dramatic pause in the music. Most of the people around them were stealing glances at Natalie all night, and now the comment ringing out over the silent floor seems to give them permission to openly stare at her. Nick is honestly surprised by the piercing glares from the two women.

"What the --", Livy started to say before being cut off by Nick.

"Hey, let me go get drinks..." Nick's voice trails off as he hurries to the bar. Livy watches him go, determined to keep him on a short leash. She saw the warm the smile on his face when he remarked on Natalie's looks, but she missed his eyes lingering on her breasts.

"Nice boy you got there," Natalie laughs stiffly, immediately resolving to stay out of Nick's orbit, even so she feels flush from all eyes staring at her.

"He has his finer points," Livy adds, "just look at that ass!" She watches Nick walk all the way to the bar in her typical, intense, codependent way. Livy falls in love quick, and hard. Each time she loses the love of her life, Natalie is there to hold her while she cries. This pattern was repeated at least two times a year, for at least the last dozen men. Now it is painfully clear to Natalie, Livy is smitten again. Watching her friend swoon as Nick walked away Natalie knew this time would be no different. Yep, it would be no different. Livy still had a knack for picking blatantly unfaithful assholes.

Nick's exclamation unleashed a lot of attention on Natalie. Even with her elevated confidence she feels the color warmly spreading on her face. Avoiding eye contact with the crowd around her, she absently scans the darkness beyond the lights once more. With her gaze moving over the figures in the gloom, her eyes snap back to one, a shape standing slightly apart from the rest. Natalie sucks in a startled gasp and feels her heart rate jump as she gets the impression the figure is watching her, many people are still looking, but even in the darkness she feels this form locking eyes with her.

"OK, two G and Ts with lime for the beautiful ladies... Hendricks of course...it's floral," Nick offers, freshly back from the bar. The two women turn to look at him.

Livy smiles warmly with her heart beaming at the compliment. Natalie's lips contract into a thin line, betraying her true disdain for Nick. Taking her drink, looks away into the darkness again. Scanning the gloom, she sees the lone figure is no longer there, but can't shake the excitement of being seen, being watched. Not stolen glances or outright stares, but being watched.

"Hey babe, we are going to head out," chimed a voice behind her. Natalie turns to face Tyler and John. Tyler was also a friend from college. John had worked with her in her former job, before she founded her company. The couple had hit it off at Natalie's 25th birthday party and had been inseparable ever since. It was funny to see how they now mirrored each other, with Tyler becoming more like a corporate lawyer and John starting to show shades of unapologetic frat boy. Either way, they were always good for a major spat, leaving in a huff. Each time the group is convinced they are over, and then the next time they go out, there they are inseparable. Conjoined. True lovers to the last.

"So soon?", cried Natalie.

"It's getting late love," John said with a smile, "I'm going to turn into a pumpkin soon."

"Do you always have to be dramatic?" joked Tyler.

"It's a saying. I'm NOT being dramatic."

Tyler saw his quip had fallen flat and looked to Natalie with a laugh. "Yes," he said, "we are heading home. It's great to see you, and even though I've said it all night.... you look stunning"

"You truly do," added John and after a few seconds of smiles, Tyler and John turn to leave.

"Niiight Nats!" they said in unison, picking up on the name Nick used.

"Night Guys!", she replied.

Natalie turns back to Livy. Livy is the girl who gets engrossed in a boy, totally lost, and tonight is no different. She and Nick are dancing disrespectfully close, but they make room for Natalie to join them. She tries to keep from making eye contact with Nick, especially as she feels his eyes travel to places where they have no right to linger. Natalie secretly wishes Livy will notice, that Livy will explode and ditch the ass, but Livy is lost in love. Natalie feels a bit of a third wheel and after a song or two, dances away, toward the DJ.

Dancing to the front, up near the turntables, Natalie starts letting go with the music. She dances freely, a bit wild, but free, until her nose is filled with the sickly scent of Polo Red invades her nose. She has no choice but to escape. Livy and her asshole boytoy are mid floor, so Natalie dances to the far end of the floor, near the darkness of the tables beyond the light. Here it is not as obvious that she is dancing alone. Dancing here she is happy her nose is no longer burning, when suddenly the Natalie gets a weird feeling. The hairs on her arm leap up, her skin tingles, and she gets the feeling she is being watched. No, not watched, she has the distinct feeling she is being devoured. She turns quickly to look into the dark, and searches for the figure. She can't see it, but feels a presence. She has the deep feeling again; she knows she is being watched.

Looking back to Livy and Nick, she watches them close. Livy does her best to reassure Natalie, but clearly the lovebirds are lost in each other. A little self-conscious feeling invades Natalie, something about the dark edge of the floor scares her. It also excites her incredibly. She dances back a little closer to the safety of her friends with each move. Each group she dances next to has the same result, the men drink her in and the women are immediately threatened. She moves from group to group, dancing across the floor. Subconsciously dancing away from the darkness, away from where the figure was. Back to safety.

Natalie is about to head back to the table to sit, but Pauly spins an old Chaka Khan song and she can't help but to dance. There is no way she can sit this out. She dances all over the floor with a renewed energy and she dances like she hasn't all night. The music eggs her, drives her, pushes her to move with vigor, and infects her with its' luscious beat. Her body glides with insistence, her mind cleared of all distraction. She doesn't just dance, she explodes with rhythm and it isn't long before she finds herself, once again, at the far edge of the lighted floor, flirting with the darkness. She stays here, relishing in the space she has to dance and let go.

Halfway through the song she realizes her thoughts are being led by the pleasing smell in her nostrils, a mix of tequila and Versace Eros Flame. This intoxicating masculine smell is coming from the man dancing behind her, dancing directly behind her. Not wanting to intrude on a couple, Natalie starts to move away as the song winds down. Suddenly she feels a large, rough hand cup her right hip and feels the heat of a pair of lips dangerously close to her left ear.

"No," a husky male voice Whispers, "stay. Dance near me."

"You've got to be joking." she thinks, with a small smile of absurdity landing on her face. She casts a glance to Livy and her boytoy. They are still eye fucking on the dance floor and it's clear they don't see anything else. With her wing woman unavailable, she shakes her head and turns to take a step towards the bar.

As Natalie starts to step away, the big strong hand slides from her hip to her waist. She can feel the strength of his thumb rotating on her back, and it's an enticingly intimate intrusion. With a firm squeeze, his second hand moves to the other side of her waist' His playful tug sends surprisingly pleasurable shocks through her body, instantly setting her skin afire and causing the hairs on her arms to lift. Still standing behind her, he gently moves her with the music. He sways her slowly, and she starts to dance in his hands. Sometimes the swaying becomes an accidental grind when they bump into each other. Each time his muscular body touches hers she feels goosebumps erupt on her skin. His hand slides around to the front of her waist, and biting her lip, he pulls her into him.

His hands playfully explore her body, moving fast in time with the music. Sometimes he's caressing her shoulders, sometimes one hand wraps around her waist and pulls her body into him. Natalie keeps dancing with her hands interlaced over her head, swaying her hips, rocking her shoulders, and pressing her back into his body. Every time she pushes back and wiggles, she feels his body tense and shiver. Each time she leans back into him, she feels his warm breath on her neck.

The music slows, he reaches around and grasps her hands and turs her to face him. Or so she thought. Holding her hands to the small of his back he leads her through the wispy crowd. This is the first time she fully sees him; He's six inches taller even with her heels, broad shouldered but not obnoxiously so, with a crop of light brown hair. His clothes, a black jacket with matching pants, fit so well they were obviously tailored to his balanced, athletic form. He moves effortlessly and with a few seconds they mount the steps to the VIP bar on the back wall.

The whole section is dim and the bar is dark, closed. On a busy weekend night, this bar is well lit and does a brisk trade servicing the elevated VIP section along with the swanky booths on the back wall. To call them booths is a misnomer, they are plus horseshoe shaped alcoves, with walls separating them. They are closed this whole weekend for remodeling, and tonight they are tableless black nooks. He leans against the back wall next to the bar and smiles. Natalie can't fully see his face in the dim light, but she can see enough. His dark intelligent eyes twinkle from the faraway dance floor lights, his tousled hair is thick, and his angular jaw frames a mischievous smile. As out of nowhere a cocktail waitress appears with two flutes.

"Hey, Hon," the waitress quips, "here you go." She hands the flutes to him and with a smile at Natalie, she heads off to work the far crowd.

"You have a tab or something?" Natalie asked, not having to yell as the music level was noticeably less back here.

"Something like that." He replied. His voice was deep and powerful, like everything else about this man. He holds up the flutes. "Pick one."

Natalie is no fan of champagne, but she takes a flute and pulls it to her lips. The sip is cool and inviting, the drink is good, really good, and she immediately takes a long slow pull from the flute.

"Mmmmm," she purrs, "what is this? And do I taste gin?"

"That's a French 75," he replies, "fresh lemon juice, simple syrup, gin, and champagne."

"It's exquisite..." She takes another sip, feeling the cool drink paradoxically warm her. She was hoping it would calm her a bit. Calm the butterflies in her stomach. Calm the beating of her chest. Calm the impure thoughts racing in her head. Looking up at his handsome face in the gloom, she starts to imagine what his lips would taste like, and if his hands would fall to her ass when he kissed her. She takes another sip to keep from biting her lip.

"Dance with me." His voice is firm and insistent, but not overbearing. She drains the last of her flute, places her glass on the darkened empty bar and reaches her arms over her head. He watches her move her body for a moment and then spins her so her back is to him. He puts his glass next to hers and his hands find her hips again. "Like this," he half growls, "dance for me like this."

Natalie feels those big hands moving her hips and matching the tempo of the rhythm. Quickly her hips take the lead and his hands are now just along for the ride. She moves her in her own time, purposely throwing off the natural grace his hands express. Teasing and testing with her hips. She feels his tempo change. No longer do his hands move with the music. Slowly they glide down her hips, tracing down her outer leg, until they stop for a firm squeeze just above the knee. He rolls his hands forward, his thumbs boldly moving to her inner leg. Natalie's pulse quickens as he moves his hands up, exploring. An inch above the knee, now two, now three. Halfway up her leg he rolls his hands out again, moving back to her outer thigh, but leaves those big thumbs to tease a line up the center of her thigh. His hands pass her hips and up her ribs. Crossing forward, his hands envelope her torso in a strong embrace, thumbs carelessly grazing the bottom of her breasts as they pass.

This pattern is repeated, faster stronger. Down her outer thigh, roll in on her knee, thumbs teasing a bit higher on her inner thigh, up her hips, ribs, ending with a wrapping of her torso and a gentle tickle of her lower breasts. Sometimes his hands are fast, sometimes slow, His touch is soft, then hard, and it feels like he never touches her the same way twice. After an eternity his left hand stays below her right breast, keeping her in that strong embrace, and his right hand moves down to her knee. Now as his right hand starts its journey up Natalie's leg, his thumb hooks the hem of her high cut little black dress and moves it up inch by maddening inch. His left hand quickly slides up, covering her breast. The warmth of his hand adds a charge to the firm squeezing of her breast, but erotic shock grasps her when he bends his head and gently bites the side of her neck just above her shoulder. Natalie backs into him with a soft mew. Unable to hear over the music, she thinks she feels a groan deep in his throat, but there is no mistaking the way his hips keep brushing against her ass.

"C'mon," he says, grabbing her by the wrist and leading her over to one empty VIP alcoves. Without their tables and plush arced couches, they are deeper than they look. Reaching the closest one, he pulls her in and is surprised when she pulls her hands free. As he turns to look at her, she pushes him hard against the wall and is on him in a second. Her hands shoot to the sides of his head pulling his lips down to hers. Their lips meet roughly, with heat. Her tongue searches and immediately finds his, his kiss matching the intensity of hers. She bites his lips and tugs. He quickly spins her around and presses her against the wall. In this dim little corner with the lights of the dance floor far behind him she can barely see his face. She can see his sharp features, polished smile, and dark, intelligent eyes.