by JD Glass
Under the counter was a small shelf (and under that was a wastebasket) crammed with paper towels, electrical odds and ends, and baby wipes—you know, premoistened and soaped towelettes, but without the lotion—and I grabbed one of those, quickly wiping my hands free of any detritus they might have picked up. Hey, have to keep those discs clean. My hands now lemony fresh, I hung the headset around my neck so that I could slide the phones up to my ears without messing up my hair and set up the first disc, listening for the groove I wanted to slide myself into. Oh yeah, that low dark throb I was going to take down, all the way low down through, then twist it up. Take that musical moment and dance, baby, I thought as I brought the faders up for the first piece I’d selected.
I raised my eyes from the board to scan the room and feel the vibe, and watched as Trace and Van ambled into the dance area and settled about fifteen feet away from the booth. Trace waved to me, then pointed. I followed the line of sight she drew out for me and saw Blue dancing her way over to the booth. I shrugged. “So what?” I mouthed to Trace.
Trace just smiled back at me, and, maintaining eye contact, she slowly and deliberately snaked out her tongue to lick Van’s neck. Why did I keep looking as his eyes fluttered shut? Though I couldn’t hear it, I could feel the groan that I knew was making its way from his lips. Still watching me watch her, Trace proceeded to trail up into his ear. At that point, he pulled her into his arms and they were mauling each other again.
I shook my head and broke eye contact. I didn’t have time for this shit; I had work to do. I slid my headset over my ears, careful not to mess my hair, then smoothly set my mix, letting the heavy opening cadence of that first tune fill my head and the room.
I took a breath and let it out slowly. It was time. Reaching for the microphone, I keyed it open. “Darrel and the Daze have left the building for the night,” I intoned solemnly. “You are now…” I let the first riff swell through and watched with a small smile of satisfaction as the music started to take effect, “in…” I let the chords build through and conquer the older tune as it faded out of hearing, “Dominion,” I breathed, letting the song of the same name sweep through the room. This was another Sisters of Mercy tune, and by the by, the Sisters of Mercy is a very cool band, sort of. Well, dark and sensual and danceable all at the same time, the Floodland album is phenomenal. But still, what a tune to pick for first choice, I reflected. Boy, I was in some mood.
I set the lights to give off a bit of a flicker, since there’s nothing like the “dungeon-disco” effect, and checking my mix for the next tune, I closed my eyes and sank into the groove, at peace and at home in my little musical world, feeling fine, just fine, thank you. Of course that moment of peace couldn’t last. What is it they say, “When you least expect it, expect it?”
I felt a gentle touch on the bare skin of my back, and as I opened my eyes, I saw a hand holding a plastic cup of water. That was nice. Wow, sometimes Trace could really set me off, and sometimes she could be just so damn sweet, so considerate, it drove me fuckin’ crazy.
It was like she’d been raised in my home—nobody ever said they were sorry. Okay, well, my parents would force us to say it if we got caught doing something, but otherwise, nobody ever said those words; they “did” it instead.
For example, if Nico and I had an argument and it was his fault? Later on, he’d say something like, “Hey, um, wanna go play some video games? My treat.” Or if it was me, I’d catch up with him and hand him a cup of hot chocolate or something. Our parents did it too. I mean, if they were “wrong” (which, of course, never happened), they’d pick up a book one of us wanted or take that person out for a Saturday afternoon—something along those lines. We “did” it; we didn’t just say it. Well, okay, I was known to say it on occasion, but I always backed it up with an action because “actions speak louder than words.”
Trace “did” it, too, although she might every now and then say it, but usually not.
I took the cup and gratefully tossed back and swallowed more than half of it before I realized it was a tequila pop (tequila and 7-Up) and not water. As the combination of sourness and soda fizzled against the back of my throat, my eyes opened wider, and I gulped down what was left in my mouth before handing back the cup.
“Hey, thanks, Trace, but I’m not drink—” It wasn’t Trace. It was Blue.
I was momentarily speechless as I pushed my headset from my ears. No one ever, and I mean ever, had entered that booth before that either I didn’t know or didn’t personally invite. This was unheard of. This was—
“Your friend let me in,” she told ABC me, neatly plucking the cup from my fingers with a smile. “She figured you wouldn’t mind.”
A setup. That’s what this was. I looked back out into the room and didn’t have to scan far. Trace was right by the “request” window, smirking at me, and I leveled my eyes on hers as I leaned over to catch her ear.
“Trace, what the fuck?” I asked her in a loud whisper. Invading my domain and all—sheesh, you know?
Trace tweaked my hair again. “You’re so fucking cute when you’re mad.” She laughed, then reached up and kissed me. Her lips were soft and full but pressed hard against mine, and when she finally let go, she bit my lip. I tasted blood.
“If you did some of the things I would”—she stroked my cheek—“you’d have more fun.” Trace drew a finger across my lip, taking the red stain she’d left with it, and I watched, angry, stirred, and mesmerized, as she slid it between her lips. What was wrong with me, that I let her get to me like that? I couldn’t stop her if I wanted to, and I wasn’t sure I did.
Trace smiled as she brought her hand down. “Mmm, delicious,” she commented, then smirked at me. “Now go have fun. I fuckin’ dare you.” Her smile turned wicked, a flash of teeth, eyes sparking her challenge. She held my eyes a moment, then gave me her back, dismissing me.
My mind swirled as I straightened up and faced my “guest.” The carbonation burned through my stomach, the tequila sent a flush through my body, warming my skin and thrumming in my chest.
Blue simply observed me, cup in hand and eyes narrowed in consideration. “I told your friend I wanted to speak with you, and she said she’d help me out, since she’d interrupted,” she paused a moment and set the cup on the ledge behind her, “our earlier conversation.” She stepped closer to narrow the short distance between us.
Okay, so this game was a little different than I thought it would be. I wasn’t expecting this more, well, forward sort of behavior. Okay, though, maybe that was my fault. I’d been the one to start changing the rules, anyway. She reached out, and I stepped back a little nervously, smacking against my sound board.
Oh yeah, the sound board. I was working—or supposed to be, anyway.
“Okay, yeah, sure,” I agreed and smiled. “We can talk. I, um, I’ve got to set my tunes,” and I gave my attention to the board. We were so close my hip brushed against hers. Did I mention this wasn’t a very big space?
I slipped my headphones back on and checked the play status on the disc. Everything was going smoothly and exactly where I wanted it to. I ran nimble fingers across the dials, then grabbed the next two discs, setting them up in succession; they would fade beautifully into one another. I closed my eyes as I tested the mix, listening, sinking into the music’s mood, my fingertips resting lightly on the knobs as I adjusted the program, tweaking a ABC bit here and there to get it perfect. Oh yeah, there it was. This was going to be nice, very nice. I swayed along with the beat and set a few automatic times, tweaking the sound and moments until they were perfect too.
A soft fingertip slid slowly down my bare back, and I forced myself to control the light shiver it caused. Hands strayed to my hips, and Blue danced with me. I could feel the heat of her body on my back as I locked the mix on the board, and as we swayed in time together, I realized she was slightly taller than me.
She was subtle as she pressed up against me, and I felt the light touch of her lips on my neck as I caug
ht the rhythm with her and swayed to the beat. She nibbled her way up to my ear. God, I love that. Well, if I hadn’t been stirred before, which I was, this situation had just jumped me up a little higher, but it was time, more than time, to take it in hand. Maintaining body contact, I twisted around, and, glancing up at her eyes for a moment, grasped her hips, bringing us closer. We moved together for a few moments, then I brushed my lips up along the line of her neck, then to her ear. She inhaled sharply, and I smiled. I love it when things work the way they should.
“I have to check the board,” I whispered, lightly kissing the skin right below.
“How are you going to do that if I don’t let you go?” she murmured into my hair, readjusting the grip she had and holding me firmly.
I brushed my lower lip against her earlobe, then looked up into her eyes. “Just like this.” I grinned and, neatly sliding my leg between hers, pulled her closer and pivoted, using our combined weight for leverage. I controlled her descent by holding her hips, and her back landed neatly and with the slightest heaviness to the left of the board. Now I could face the room, if I wanted, and the controls.
But God damn that system had good shocks; the sound never skipped.
“This work for you?” I asked her with a smile, releasing her hips so I could ease up my headphones. As I leaned over and across her to reach for the console and the microphone so I could introduce the next song, my lower body pressed into hers.
She hooked a leg around my hip and reached up, pressing her breasts against me and burrowing her lips into my neck. “This works just fine for me.”
“Good,” I whispered, enjoying the pattern she was weaving on my throat. What can I say? I’m a sensualist at heart. “Shh,” I cautioned, indicating the microphone as I brought it up. She stopped and nodded. Headphones in place, I keyed the mike.
“Brothers and sisters, boyz and grrlz, lovers and leavers, this is the Dominion,” I informed the dancers as I scanned the now-crowded floor. Wow. A lot of people had come into the back room since I’d started, hopefully drawn by the music. Hey, all was cool; it meant they liked it and that I was doing my job well.
Blue slipped her leg up between mine and pressed it firmly where it meant business, and I had no doubt in my mind what kind of business she meant.
The throb that flew through my body mingled with the music and the buzz I already had, and a low and throaty “mmph” escaped my lips into the room as I set the sound flying and returned the pressure Blue was sending my way.
We spent a few more moments like that, moving with one another to a beat that was sensual to begin with and heated further by our contact, so when she sat on the small available space on the board and arched her neck back, quicker than it takes to tell, she dropped the leg that was pressed against me and I was between hers. Still dancing, just a slight movement of hips and shoulders, I dipped my head to the line that ran the length of her throat and trailed it very softly with my lips until I reached hers. I gently nipped at her lower lip, requesting access, and received it.
Her lips tasted like cherry-flavored balm, and her tongue had that sweet beer taste. For a moment, I was caught up in a memory—the smell of the ocean and lips so soft and tender that to kiss them was to worry for a moment about bruising them before losing myself entirely. But the mouth I was kissing was certainly not like that, and that event, that possibility, was too far away to be brought back, I thought fleetingly.
But Blue was a good enough kisser that I was able to shove the memory aside and focus on the mouth under mine. As I smoothed along her ribs, a hand ran up and down my back and sides, and one snaked into the space where our bodies met.
Tempting, very tempting, but not where I wanted to go, not in this place, not on these terms. She wanted to play and—this was now my game. Carefully, I took her hand away from me and my lips from hers. “No, baby,” I gazed into her eyes and whispered, bringing her hand to my shoulder and holding it there, “this is all about you.” And reaching for her mouth with mine, I rounded her hips, massaging her firm ass.
She moaned into my mouth and gripped my ribs with her knees. Almost lazily, I encircled her waist and drew a soft line along her thigh with my free hand until it was under what was left of her skirt. She’d already pushed it up and mostly out of the way. Skirts are great sometimes, ya know? I like ’em, lots. I grazed the spot where the thigh meets the body, stopped kissing her for a moment, and stilled my hands to consider—what, exactly, I’m not sure—but this was going a bit further than I’d originally intended.
Raising my head, I scanned the room once again. Everyone was grooving; the mood was working, both in the room and definitely in the skybox. A hand waved in the air and caught my eye—Trace, trying to get my attention. I nodded and gave her a small smile.
“I dare you!” she mouthed at me.
I shook my head. “Fuck you!” I mouthed with a grin and rolled my eyes.
“I’m not the one you’re fucking!” Trace yelled back, laughing. She spun ABC Van around until they were both out from my line of sight.
Blue merely waited for me, stroking my ribs as I removed my hands, and I took advantage of the moment to make some final adjustments to the board. I had a ten-minute song followed by an eleven-and-a-half-minute one. The music would be good to go for a decent length of time without my direct attention. Blue’s legs relaxed a bit and rested on my hips.
I’d reached for the last set of knobs that would lock my current settings when, suddenly, Trace was at the request window. I stared at her. “What?” I asked silently.
“You’re such a baby, just so really fucking adorable. You know that?” she yelled up at me with an evil smile, then danced away.
God damn, how did she manage to always fuckin’ do that to me? I reached blindly for my cup of water and drank, forgetting—again—that it wasn’t water, but what was left of the tequila pop. The drink was like acid in the back of my throat and burned all the way down.
Fuck it, I thought as I finished it and tossed the cup into the pail under the board. I stood there a moment staring at nothing, letting everything run through me, burning like the tequila—the frustration with Trace, the arousal from Blue, and the normal restlessness that rides everyone’s blood on a summer night. Okay, maybe that’s just hormones, but you know what I mean.
Maybe the moon was full, or I’d had more to drink than I thought. Could be I was still a little annoyed, maybe even a little raw about the “cute” comment. I don’t know why I had such a need to have Trace see me differently (okay, maybe I do know, but let’s just move on), but I was scanning the dance floor, finding Trace’s cold gray eyes and holding them with my own. Blue twined her arms around my neck, and I tangled my hands into her hair, drawing her head back. My lips were almost on her throat, just a breath away, before I broke that eye contact with Trace, and this time, definitely on my terms.
Cute this, I thought as I brought my teeth to bear along the column of Blue’s throat, and my hands were in the mix, too. I had both of them by the twin junctions of her thighs and was alternately scraping along their length with my nails (yes, I keep them short, but not bitten) and massaging the firm muscle. She was busy, too. Gratifyingly responsive to my kisses and caresses, she hungrily licked and sucked on my neck, her hands tracing the contours of my face, her knees now firm against my ribs.
I lifted my head away from the assault, then dipped it, questing for her mouth. My hands rested lightly on her parted thighs, and as I slid my tongue between her welcoming lips, I softly brushed my thumbs along the narrow strip of material that held her secrets. She gasped into my mouth, and her body surged forward. I pressed my thumbs harder against her and could feel the valley she wanted to welcome me into under the damp material.
“Are you sure?” I whispered into her ear, interrupting the meeting of the mouths, and she bit my neck in response. I glanced up a moment, toward the dance floor, and found Trace’s eyes upon me, an unreadable expression on her ABC face. Burying my lips into Blu
e’s neck, I lifted the flimsy material away with my right hand and stroked over the fine damp hairs that lined her cleft with my left. Her clit was hard and wanted my attention, and I complied, sliding my thumbs around its base, stroking it.
She was soft and slick, swollen with want and wide open to me. Shifting my left hand palm up, I poised my index and middle fingers right at her wet and welcoming entrance.
She moaned softly and eased back on her elbows, her head hanging between her shoulders.
I leaned forward over her and slid my free arm around her waist. When she raised her head to mine, I kissed her. “Are you sure?” I murmured into her lips. “We can stop if you want.”
She grabbed my wrist. “Please, Nina,” she asked, and kissed me deeply. “Fuck me,” she whispered into my ear, and as she leaned back again, she pulled me with her, but still I stayed my hand, at her entrance, but not in it, “just fuck me.”
Hey, you never deny a lady a direct request, right?
I kissed her again, slowly and sensually, and explored the lovely rich wetness between her lips. With small and steady movements, relishing the feel of her, I entered by slow degrees, getting to know her, making sure she was more than ready. When the very tips of my fingers were inside her, I felt more than heard her anticipating groan. That, and the complete opening of body—you know what I mean, that sudden, total, there’s-just-no-barriers-here-I’m-wide-open-to-you welcome that tells you “Now, right now!”—were the cue I wanted, had been waiting for. It’s all about timing. I pulled her closer and in one swift, almost savage movement, slid my tongue all the way into her mouth, pressed my thumb hard against her clit and my fingers almost as far as they could go into her pussy.
She gasped and shuddered, gripping the edge of the bench with both hands, and, bringing one knee straight back, she stretched the length of her leg over my shoulder. I slid even deeper inside that slick, tight space, and the rhythm I set was fast and furious, the time for formality and shyness way over.