Vibe Page 2

  My mother says that it’s okay for her and me to share him. That we were especially given to him by the Omega as gifts for his perseverance and dedication to the faith.

  “I’m safe, right?” I repeat the question as his lips find my own, as he kisses me and slips his tongue inside my mouth. I don’t know why I feel the need to ask again, but even as his familiar lips brush against my own, those quiet flits of nerves bubble up through my skin again.

  “Always safe, my wildflower,” he reminds me as he pulls away and we continue dancing across the grass. I look down and watch as little flowers spring up after each step we take. A loud laugh falls from my mouth as we keep dancing, flowers blooming and jumping around our feet in every moment.

  Malin laughs as well, and soon my mother runs forward to join us. All three of us dance as the music gets louder, drifting over my ears and across the gathering as if everyone is affected by it.

  Laughter and love pour out from every single person. I watch as trails of glowing paths spiral through the group in rainbows of beautiful colors. I don’t understand what I’m seeing, what I’m experiencing in this moment, but I don’t think about it anymore. I simply enjoy it like Malin said I should.

  My body and mind are high on euphoria, spilling forth as my arms wrap around Malin and my mother. I’m quickly losing my breath because I’m laughing so much but we hastily stop as Zale’s voice blasts through the gathering and the music immediately halts.

  “Aura Lizabeth Valentine. Your Induction Ceremony is to begin in five minutes. Please take my hand and join me. Your mother and father will follow you as well.”

  It’s loud.

  So fucking loud in here. My ears are ringing with the constant beat of music and my chest feels heavy from the thick air I keep inhaling. Thick with tension, toxic with sex, and dense from the cigarettes and scent of spilled stale beers.

  I’m trying to stay calm, stay focused on what I want to do here. I want to experience this. Force my past just a little father into the back of my mind. I want to forget about where I came from, what I had to go through in order to get out of there. It’s been nine years and you’d think I’d be over everything by now. But when you grow up in the ways that I did, it’s difficult to completely hide from those demons. I don’t even want to think about what would happen to me if anyone from my past found out I had come here tonight—to Pandora’s Box. I would be punished, that’s for damn sure, and they would drive the darkness out of me in irreparable ways.

  I’m quickly distracted by the sound of laughing voices, glasses clinking, and the occasional yelp of a woman nearby. I jump in my skin for a split second and force my mind to clear out the terrifying thoughts so that I can focus on where I am.

  I don’t look around, instead I keep my eyes trained on the back of Hawk’s head. His blond, disheveled hair is slicked over on top, shaved on the sides, and I find myself squeezing his hand just a bit tighter as we move through the crowded club.

  I’m nervous being here, honestly. This is considered wrong and disgusting according to my family and mentors. But coming to a strip club has been something I’ve secretly wanted to do, another notch on my belt of rebellion against the strict life I was raised in.

  This club is a little more than simply stripping however, and while Hawk brought me to the side that holds countless stages, I know there’s another portion of this massive space that houses even filthier secrets. He wouldn’t give me every detail, only that people came to this club in order to release in the hands of other people. He did mention supposed viewing rooms though, where people can watch others having sex at their own pleasure.

  A shiver races down my spine and I fight the immediate wash of judgement that instinctually runs through me. That’s exactly what I’m trying to fight against by being here. The way my mind slips into the default beliefs I was forced to absorb.

  Besides, Bethie is here and I know she won’t let anything happen that I don’t want to experience.

  Bethie. Or Bethany, as everyone else calls her. She’s supposed to be meeting us as well, and promised we’d come on a double date. Me with Hawk—my boyfriend of two years—and her with whoever she decided was valuable enough to bring along. She knows how uncomfortable I get around these things, she knows pieces of the life I had growing up. It’s been unusually easy trusting her with her with my own darkness.

  Hawk pulls me along as we weave through countless entranced bodies. People are scattered around small black granite tables, where women casually stride up and offer drinks, or the other services they clearly provide. I shouldn’t be surprised to find that the women are hardly wearing anything at all. Some don tiny, bikini styled tops draped in fringe or beautiful gemstones. However, each of them wear magnificent butterfly wings due to the theme of the night.

  Butterflies.

  Butterflies in darkness. That’s what I’m reminded of.

  Others are completely topless as they’re pulled onto the laps of men and begin dancing in erotic displays of seduction and deceit.

  I say deceit because things feel hidden here. Lies are told. Secrets are kept. Illusions are created. Something feels dark and dangerous, while a deeper tether within me is pulled tighter as we pass by the intoxicating dancers. Part of me wants to look, to glance at what’s taking place around me, but the heavier, guiltier parts of me force my eyes to drop to the ground while my feet shuffle behind Hawk’s.

  The music thumps around us, pulsing, hypnotic beats. They course over my skin, sending tingles of apprehension and excitement warring through my mind. We move deeper into the club, closer to the front where I believe the stages are all set.

  “Are you nervous, Aura?” I hear Hawk’s deep voice sound from in front of me and I lift my eyes to meet his. He’s looking back over his shoulder, and while I know he’s checking in to be cautious, I don’t miss the glint of mischief that flashes through his gaze.

  He enjoys seeing me uncomfortable, I think. He pushes my boundaries and then drags me back into his embrace, shielding me before things go too far and I lose myself to my own anxious thoughts.

  Sometimes I appreciate it.

  Sometimes I don’t.

  “Yes,” I answer honestly, and the corners of his mouth pick up in a dangerous grin. He drags me in front of him and wraps his arms around my waist as we walk. Now, the stages are directly in front of us, and I can already see three poles spaced evenly across the showroom floor.

  Three women.

  Three dances.

  One is front and center while the other two women entertain smaller crowds on the left and right. We near the trio, and I watch as several men, and few women, wave dollars and hands in front of the dancers faces in order to catch their attention.

  “You’ll enjoy this,” Hawk whispers in my ear as his lips brush against my skin. I swallow my words, because I’m genuinely not sure how I feel about this. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to the darkness of it, to the unknown and taboo of what we’re doing, but I’m also afraid, and a part of my mind is constantly spiraling with thoughts of how wrong this is.

  Besides, the show is really for Hawk anyway. I’m straight and have always been into men. Not that I find anything wrong with women, I don’t. In fact, I find the female body beautiful in ways that can’t even compare to men.

  But being instinctually attracted to women? Being sexually turned on by women? Not my thing. I just don’t vibe on that wavelength, I guess.

  So, I’ll cross this off my bucket list, let Hawk have a good time, and use this experience as another way to further distance myself from the extremely destructive upbringing I was raised in. I want those firm, final barriers in place to remind me that I’ll never be back there. I’ve run too far for them to find me.

  I expect us to move to one of the smaller sides first, hoping that Hawk will ease me into this but am quickly disappointed when he shifts our path directly to the front of the main stage.

  “Wait, Hawk—” I start, suddenly gripping his ha
nd tightly as he spots four open seats to claim as our own. “I don’t think I want to be this close.”

  “I promise you’ll enjoy this baby, come on. For me?” he asks sweetly as he urges me forward without giving me a chance to respond. My heart rate kicks up and I can feel the heat flooding my chest as we near the stage.

  Is this what you want, wildflower? This darkness? This sin?

  I shake my head, physically forcing the painful memory from my mind just as a tall, leggy blonde dances against the pole in the center. She’s already nearly naked, having lost her top and only wearing a thin, silver G-string along with her glittering silver wings. Hawk’s eyes land on her as he pulls a chair out and demands I sit. He takes the seat to my left and leans back casually as he watches the show.

  The music shifts into a sultry sound, something a bit slower, a little more seductive, as I turn my gaze to the left and right, anywhere but on the dancer in front of me. I want to look, want to see what’s happening, but I don’t think I’m ready to just yet.

  “Oh shit, he dragged you all the way up to the front already?” Bethie’s bright voice chirps out beside me and I immediately turn to meet her gaze. Her hands drop around my shoulders as she hugs me from behind, and an immediate wave of relief washes through me.

  Have you had those moments, when you meet someone and have an instinctual draw to them? Like you know you both will be instant friends—companions. When you meet another person, and you immediately relate to a certain topic, or style or friend group, and you know that you’re going to impact each other’s lives in some way?

  That’s Bethie for me. She showed up in my life at a point when I was lost, unsure of who I was or who I wanted to be. And she helped me, opened up to me in ways I didn’t realize I needed. She shares things with me, secrets she doesn’t talk about with others, and she calls to the part of me that simply wants to help, to love, and to fulfill.

  I’ve lived a life so full of ruin as it is, so finding that connection with someone else? Those are the things I crave, the moments I live for. I don’t mind investing in her, giving her everything I have to offer our friendship, because I think it’s what she needs, and I like to be needed.

  I wrap my fingers tightly around hers as she takes the seat beside me. I lean forward and glance around her to find a tall, slender man taking the seat on her left. He isn’t her usual type though, this one is a little more prim and proper for her normal taste. He’s dressed in khaki slacks and white tennis shoes, and mint green polo hugs around his chest. He lifts an arm and drops it around the back of her chair, and my eyes narrow at the act before looking to meet her gaze.

  I glance back to find Hawk examining the newcomer, but I laugh, knowing that he genuinely dislikes most of the guys Bethie brings around. The three of us are so close, such good friends, that he feels protective over her as well.

  She leans towards me and wraps her hand around the back of my neck as she whispers in my ear. “I know, I know. He’s boring, but I think he’s extra kinky in bed.” She leans back and laughs, her dark blonde hair bouncing around her in thick, lengthy waves when she turns her attention back to the stage.

  My gaze lingers on her for a moment longer, watching as her hazel eyes take in the dancer in front of us. She visibly relaxes, her shoulders falling just an inch as she leans back against the arm of the man next to her. His eyes are fixed on the blonde as well, and the two of them watch with clear appreciation in their eyes. Even Bethie’s breaths pick up a little, and for a moment, I wonder if she’s ever been with another woman.

  We’ve never talked about it before, never really felt the need to. She’s always ever been with men around me and I’ve really only ever dated Hawk since I escaped The Nation. Have there been a couple random drunken nights where she’s ended up kissing another woman? Yeah, of course. But who hasn’t had those? I haven’t, but I don’t think I’ve lived a normal life compared to a lot of other people.

  “Oh fuck,” Hawk’s heavy voice grabs my attention when I turn to find him leaning forward a bit closer and resting his elbows against the edge of the stage. Absently, I glance up as well to see what he’s looking at, and my eyes land on the new dancer emerging from behind the cascading black curtains.

  Sinner. Shame. Hell.

  Several key words of my past flash through my mind on repeat while I try to tear my gaze away. I can’t even see the woman’s face, but I know that I want to. Something sparks in my chest, something strange and unfamiliar. I can’t even explain it but the need to know more washes over the toxic remnants of my past.

  She isn’t naked, not yet at least. But she wears a pair of black, fishnet tights that ride all the way up to the smallest point of her waist. They’re layered under a pair of the tiniest distressed jean shorts I’ve ever seen, which are unbuttoned and split at the top in a glimpse of what’s underneath.

  She also wears a set of butterfly wings. But hers are so different than any of the others I’ve seen tonight. These are black and tattered and small specks of white paint are splashed along the edges. Her wings are far darker than the glowing ones around her. Hers feel stronger, even through the tattered holes in the fabric.

  An esoteric butterfly.

  Wrong. Disgusting. Shame. Vile.

  I close my eyes briefly and shake my head while I try to clear my own mental fog. I lift my hands and press the heels of my palms into my eyes for a moment, internally counting to five before I open them and turn to watch as Hawk pulls out a twenty-dollar bill and places it in front of him on the edge of the stage.

  I should feel some pang of jealousy right now—and I do. But everything is clouded by the heavy weight of guilt and fear, and the oddest sense of draw that I have pulling inside of me. My eyes drift back to the dancer, her cropped, black band tee hangs just barely over her chest while her arms lift and rise above her head to grasp the pole. She drops low and arches her back, spreading her legs wide while the tee lifts and teases a view of her breasts. Several cascading tattoos peek out from her ribs and across one arm. I can’t make them out exactly, but I have a feeling they might be flowers and a possibly single butterfly.

  But her eyes are on Hawk, and my eyes are on her. And suddenly all I see is her long, straight black hair that falls down the center of her back. Her eyes are the darkest blue I’ve ever seen and flash under the neon strobes dappling her body.

  I don’t even see the dance, or what she’s wearing anymore, because all I can see is her, and her eyes. I should look away, really. Or I should look at Hawk to see what the fuck my boyfriend is doing right now, but I’m torn, and afraid of the tiniest flicker of something so strange inside of me.

  “No fucking chance. She’s mine,” Bethie says hastily as she leans across me and snatches the twenty-dollar bill from in front of Hawk and slams it down on the stage in front of herself. My eyes immediately narrow in confusion, but the guy next to her literally lights up with excitement as he realizes what’s about to happen.

  “What the fuck, Bethany!” Hawk snaps, throwing his hands up in the air when the dancer smirks at their exchange.

  She laughs, a sound that’s fucking melodic and enchanting and my eyes immediately shift back to hers as she continues dancing around the pole. She’s different from any other stripper I’ve seen here tonight because she isn’t dressed like any of them. She’s rougher around the edges, with her ripped up shorts and vintage shirt, her minimal makeup, and the fact that she isn’t even wearing heels. What stripper doesn’t wear heels? Nah, she’s wearing converse, actual black converse tennis that shock the shit out of me while drawing me in even closer.

  In an instant, everything stops. The music, the dance, the easy banter of Hawk and Bethie. All of it freezes when her eyes collide with mine. The darkest blue verging on black with my own deep green. She doesn’t react, not in the slightest, and in the next instant everything starts moving again. My brain clears and my logic continues functioning when her eyes shift over to Bethie’s while a slick grin pulls at the corne
r of her lips. Bethie leans forward, dropping her hands to the stage while she taps out an impatient rhythm against the hard surface. She smiles back, and that pang I felt earlier with Hawk? It’s ten times worse now and it makes absolutely no sense.

  I realize this. But suddenly I’m panicking, and I don’t know if it’s because of Bethie and her being my closest friend, or because of the unknown woman in front of me. I can’t tear my eyes away though, and Bethie’s low slung tank top dips even lower as she leans farther across the stage. Her current date is practically vibrating with anticipation and a quick bout of nausea rolls through my stomach at the sight of him watching them so intently.

  The dancer drops low again, swaying her hips seductively as she shifts forward and lands on her hands and knees. She begins slowly moving towards Bethie, an inviting smile spread across her lips while each shift forward is dripping with sex and temptation.

  I can’t even believe I’m recognizing that for what it is or being drawn even more to it as I watch her. This has never been me, Hell, it isn’t me now. But my logical brain isn’t working in sync with my body or my gaze.

  The dancer reaches Bethie, and my heart rate kicks up several notches as she lifts a hand and brings it to the back of her neck, pulling her close and whispering something in her ear. But as she speaks, the dancer’s eyes fall to me, locking my gaze with hers while her hands are on my friend.

  I can’t watch anymore, so I force my gaze away. I don’t want to see whatever it is that transpires between them. I’m suddenly so uncomfortable, so distraught over my own thoughts that I need to breathe clean air. I need to remember this isn’t who I am, even if I’m not a part of The Nation anymore, I’ve always been attracted to men. Always. That has never changed. This is some one-off fluke because I’m confused by the memories of my past and my already apprehensive thoughts of coming here tonight.