Page 2 of Vapor's Blaze

He gives me an odd look, I forget with Dex, sometimes he takes things literally.

“Sorry. It’s just that he can be a nosey little bastard when he wants to be. It gets old.”

Dexter responds sympathetically, “He never did like the trance scene.”

I relax a bit, unsure why I’m flying off the handle so easily. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing by being so narrow minded.”

“I would think he’d come for the women alone.”

I flash him a quick grin, “My brother has all the women he can handle at the Savage Legion clubhouse. He feels comfortable and fits in there.”

We continue chatting as he drives down the highway toward our destination, Dex tells me there’s someone he wants me to meet—he’s always introducing me to his new friends, I ended up doing a backpiece on a guy he introduced me to at a rave a few months back. By the time we arrive, I’m totally relaxed again. It’s clear from just pulling up that this is going to be an amazing evening. The warehouse is huge. Although I have never been here before, the entire building is being used for the rave. Neon colored string lights are flashing in every window and music is blasting from the inside. Whoever is hosting this event went all out. I can see the shadows of people dancing to a fast techno beat. This puts a smile on my face every single time.

When we step up to the front door, we get a visual on the inside. There has to be over a hundred people, all packed into a large dance floor. They’re wearing fluorescent necklaces, bracelets with blinking lights and even glowing earrings. We each cram a hundred bucks into the hand of the bouncer at the door and keep moving forward into the huge warehouse.

Dexter glances over at me, all smiles and excitement. “This place is really packed tonight.”

My friend’s not wrong about that. I shoot him a happy grin of my own. “That’s gonna be great for you, my friend.”

He nods, preoccupied with watching the dancers. No matter where the party is, Dexter and I always have the same plan. Immediately upon entering the area, we go our separate ways to explore.

Dex is normally pretty standoffish, but raves are where my shy nerdy friend switches it up. He’s clearly on the spectrum, though I don’t think he’s ever officially gotten tested, but one of his quirks is that he likes to introduce himself to every single person at the raves we attend. It’s like he has to know the identity of everyone in the room and what their voices sound like. It got him into a lot of fights at school, but luckily here at the raves everyone is more understanding, and for that reason it’s his happy place.

I have to say the man never forgets a face or a name. I don’t know how he does it. He won’t be satisfied until he’s met every single person in the building.

I ask, “You’re gonna be careful about pestering people tonight, right Dex?”

He just nods as he continues staring at the dance floor. Sometimes I do have to worry about people mistaking his quirkiness for rudeness, on more than one occasion I’ve had to jump in if it looks like things are going to get physical, but raves are generally filled with chill people and Dex is popular with the regulars.

I’m not surprised when he doesn’t respond and instead zooms off and dives straight into the riot of dancing bodies.

Me? I like to slide into the bar and sample whatever the house brew is at every rave. Whoever is hosting this event has a ton of alcohol and a long bar running along the side of the room. Tonight’s house brew is something called a Ruby Red. I throw twenty bucks down on the table. In this neck of the woods trance raves are not cheap, but none of us care, because they’re few and far between. Usually, they’re planned out well in advance, but every now and then someone will have a pop-up rave, like this one. We normally get a couple of hours’ notice, if that. Lifting the big cauldron of red liquid to my mouth, I take a sip. It tastes tart like cherries and burns going down. I take another sip and then turn around to engage in one of my favorite parts of the night. My eyes wander over the crowd as I survey the lay of the land, looking for sexy women who have the right moves.

Truth be told, I’m dating for marriage. My brother is probably at the clubhouse, looking to get laid by one of the club vixens, Haze might concentrate on quantity, but I go for quality. I’m the serious one and we both know it. Several women stop by to chat with me. Some I know, others I don’t. None of them really capture my notice. When I’m not quick to buy them drinks or keep the conversation ball rolling, they move on pretty quickly.

Pulling out my vape and sliding in a new cartridge only takes my attention from the dancers for a few seconds. The first puff is always heaven though. I lean back against the bar with my drink in one hand and my vape in the other, just letting my eyes wander over the crowd. That’s when I see something interesting. It’s a woman with long, thick blonde hair and she’s dancing her pretty little ass off. She’s also wearing about twenty long fluorescent glow-in-the-dark necklaces and seems to be passing them out like leis every time she bumps into someone she knows.

I down the drink in my hand in one gigantic gulp, leave the glass on the counter and walk over to introduce myself. Excitement strums in my gut at the thought of meeting a new woman. She might tell me to fuck off or I might get a dance or two. If I’m lucky and we hit it off, I might even get her number.

Chapter 2

Trix

Tonight is me time. I came alone and am hell bent on leaving alone. These days it seems like everyone comes to raves to hook up. Not me. I can do that anytime. I can’t dance to trance music with a herd of other trance enthusiasts anytime though. Trance music is getting harder and harder to find in the wild. I’m glad my friend, Dexter gave me a heads up about this one. He’s earned himself a glow in the dark necklace and a hug for his trouble.

Dexter is a strange little guy. I met him at a rave a few years ago. He likes meeting new people and if he takes a shine to you, he’ll put your contact information in his phone and invite you to group chats sporadically. He told me he had someone he wanted me to meet, but I haven’t seen him yet.

I tend to dance by myself because I’m a little hyper and no one else can keep up with me. Which is why I like trance music. It’s got a really fast tempo. I raise my hands above my head, close my eyes and gyrate in place to the beat of the music. It’s like my hips have a mind of their own and are perfectly in sync with the beat.

There’s a little mental trick I do when I’m lost in the dance. I break apart all the guys I ever dated into their component parts and try my best create my perfect franken-boyfriend. He’d be six foot tall, have long dark hair, pulled up on his head in a warrior’s topknot, because I’m the one fool who still thinks manbuns are sexy. Naturally, he’d have startling blue or green eyes, because if I ever got around to making babies with them, I’d want them to have pretty eyes, rather than my muddy brown color. Though somehow, I’ve never managed to recreate the perfect man in my head. Getting caught up in the music I kick the idea of a franken-boyfriend right out of my mind and whirl around to make more room to swing my hips.

That’s when I see him. It’s like he stepped right out of my imagination, right down to the warrior’s top knot. Well, if I’m being honest, it’s more like a messy manbun but it would be an easy fix. He’s proportioned like a bodybuilder and has the most beautiful hazel eyes I’ve ever seen. My eyes drift down and I can’t help but notice the bulge in his pants, Mr. Straight-Outta-My-Imagination is packing. It takes me a moment for it to click that he’s moving in my direction, proudly stalking really. I wonder if I’ll be able to catch a whiff of aftershave as he walks past. He probably smells as good as he looks.

Truth be told, he’s panty-melting hot. Several women are watching him, not just me. I can tell by the way he moves that he has a ripped torso. As he comes toward me, I try to imagine what his muscular physique would look like without a shirt. I’m not exactly undressing him with my eyes, just rolling around the idea in my head. Dear God, I do love a man with sculptured abs.

This is about the time I realize he isn’t walking toward me, but straight to me. I know because his eyes are eating me up. When he gets close, I start to panic when I see just how large he really is. Large guys tend to get what they want from a woman, so my guard is automatically up.

Remembering the bulge in his pants, I remind myself not to glance down. That would just make things awkward. I didn’t need to look down because every detail of it is burned into my mind. One of my problems is that my brain always gives such good advice, but my body doesn’t listen. That explains why I glance down to gaze at his zipper before I even realize I’m doing it. It only takes me a second to get ahold of myself but it’s too late. Now the handsome bastard is smirking all over the place as one hand slides down to rearrange his junk. Damn it. Why do I always have to look?

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