Page 7 of Twisted Little Thing

"Look," he says, now sounding impatient. "I don't want to mess with you or ruin your evening. Let's make a deal. I'll go over to the bar and order myself a shisha and a drink. I've had enough dancing for tonight. I don't want to cut your evening short, though. You go, dance as long as you wish until you feel you've had enough, as well. And if you're feeling like having a little nightcap before going home – you know where to find me."

He distances himself then from the wall and straightens up, looking down on me with a stern but friendly face. "I won't wait forever, though."

And then he turns and walks away. I continue watching as he crosses the street and heads for the bar.

I know the place well. I have been there a few times before.

But – what the hell? Is he really that confident that I will follow him? He didn't even give me his name or his phone number. I could just go back downstairs into the club and dance until my head falls off before stumbling home and never seeing him again. I could do just that.

And I might.

My eyes follow him as he walks. He doesn't turn around once. His confidence annoys me.

I shake my head and turn around, heading for the club's entrance. And dance. Just as I had planned to do when I first got here.

The club is a lot emptier than it was just a short while before. It is not even that late, but people are leaving left and right. Great, now there is more room for me.

The song that is playing is not especially great or catchy, but I start dancing to it anyway.

I try to, that is. My mind is elsewhere, even though I want to fight it. I cannot get him out of my head.

What kind of weird game is he playing with me? And why does it work so well?

It scares me, actually. Because I feel like this is not up to me. As if someone cast a spell on me, causing me to notice him in the first place, to be drawn to him even though he appears to stand for everything I despise.

And why did he come up to me and talk to me? Since when has it become this easy to charm me the way he just did?

Of course, I have heard compliments before, compliments about my appearance even.

But never like this. But never have compliments affected me the way his words did.

I feel like a giddy, stupid school girl, one who got brain-fucked by a charming womanizer who is only trying to get one thing out of her.

But even if that's true – would that be so bad?

It's been a while since I have had sex. And he's hot, that's for sure. I have never been opposed to one-night stands and have actually had quite a few. It's just a matter of timing, my mood, the available guy – just a few variables that need to fall into place.

He is interesting, and he could be fun.

"Oh, fuck this," I whisper, more to myself than anyone else.

I turn around and head for the door.

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