Page 7 of Glitter

There he was, my glittery, sparkling angel. Once again situated beneath a beam of light, in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded on all sides by a throng of entwined men grinding against each other.

As they moved around him to the throbbing pulse of the music—flowing, swaying, arms, chests, legs, and hips a coordinated symphony of motion—I caught all too brief flashes of my angel.

He was wearing another pair of loose, slouchy jeans—black or some other really dark color that was close enough to black. And he hadn’t yet taken off his shirt tonight, so his pale, lean torso was hidden behind a barrier of tight, lime green mesh. Barely hidden, as the hem of the cropped top teasingly flirted against the skin just above the shallow, oval indentation of his belly button and the spaces in the mesh offered tantalizing glimpses of silky skin.

He was a vision. A vision I wanted, needed, to touch. A vision I wanted to taste. Did he taste as soft and sweet as his pretty features and the cotton candy hue of his hair hinted at? Or would he taste as tart as the acidic color of his shirt and as sharp as his blunt words and sassy smirk?

As ecstatic as I was to spot my angel at Glitter again, the way I’d hoped to, I could only wish that he would be even a fraction as happy to see me. I impatiently waited for him to look my way, so that his ethereal blue eyes could meet mine. But before that could happen, a group of tall men passed in front of me, blocking my view of him. Once they were done passing by, I desperately pinpointed my eyes on the spot where I’d seen my angel on the dance floor.

But he wasn’t there.

Had I only imagined him? Had my wanting heart only summoned an image of him—a yearnings-born mirage?

My eyes rapidly scanned over the men on the dance floor. Tall men, short men. Skinny twinks, beefy bears. Fit, muscular men and others that fell into the same amply padded, squishy category that I did. Pretty men, handsome men, plain men, a few I’d even categorize as downright unattractive. Men of every sort of size, shape, and appearance, in a full range of skin tones.

Yet, none of the men still on the dance floor were my pale-skinned, slender, pink haired, blue-eyed angel.

How had he managed to vanish in the small fraction of a minute that my eyes had been off of him?

Thinking that he couldn’t have gotten very far from where I’d last seen him in such a brief amount of time, I began systematically visually canvassing the crowd of men ringing the perimeter of the dance floor. Hoping to spot any flash of pink or lime green that could belong to my errant angel.

“Well, hey there, boo. Fancy seeing you here again.”

The lightly teasing words spoken just to the right of me practically had me jumping in surprise. I somehow managed not to, but there was no stopping the startled, barking yelp that escaped me. I could only hope that the loud, thumping music had swallowed the sound before it registered in my angel’s delicately perfect ears.

I’m sure I looked a fool as I swiftly turned, a giant, demented grin stretching my mouth to its limit as I took in the sight of the strikingly beautiful man standing a scant couple of feet away from me.

“Hi. Hi. Hello,” I gushed, my relief that I hadn’t imagined seeing him causing me to repeat my greeting a few more times than necessary. “You’re here,” I babbled on. “Here. In front of me. Right here, right now. At Glitter. Like I’d hoped. Like I… You know…for a second there, I almost thought I’d imagined—” I cut myself off before I could complete what I’d been saying.

Not like I hadn’t already probably come across as a completely unhinged and socially-awkward moron, but I didn’t need to compound my, so far, piss-poor second impression by confessing that I’d had a moment or five of truly believing that my brain had conjured up an image of him, much the way a thirsty man in the desert would trick himself into thinking he’d found a life-saving oasis of water.

I was still smiling bigger than was necessary, practically vibrating with happiness and, as his gaze performed a leisurely sweep of my form from head to toe, his own mouth quirked up on one side. It wasn’t really a smile—not that it wasn’tnota smile—but more of an expression of faint amusement.

Last night, my angel had only been nice to me. Particularly nice considering that he’d led me to somewhere relatively private and then allowed me to fuck him. But a part of me—a not very small part of me—half expected that small smirk to be the precursor to my angel mocking me or ridiculing me for my obvious excitement at getting to be in his presence again.

And while he did tease me, it was with no malice or cruelty. He lightly fluttered his fingertips against my t-shirt, following a ticklish path up from my stomach to over my heart, saying, “Yes, boo. Here I am.”

It wasn’t as well-lit in this part of the club, but the green glitter dusted over the high, elegant crests of his cheekbones was vivid and startling and I wished that I’d been able to see him this close, in all his neon brilliance, beneath the bright lights illuminating the dance floor. The radiant glow could’ve permanently seared the image of him onto my mind’s eye.

His fingers continued tracing small, teasing flicks against the cotton fabric of my shirt as he peeked at me from beneath lowered eyelids embellished with a thick sweep of dark green eyeliner and a dusting of silvery-green eyeshadow.

“I’d had this small thought in my brain,” he stated, drawing the lush fullness of his lower lip between his teeth, the temptingly sharp edges of his straight, white teeth indenting the soft flesh in a manner that caused a simmer of want to erupt within me for my own teeth to do the same. “That when I saw you again…” Almost as soon as the words left his pretty mouth, his wide eyes flew up to meet mine and he quickly amended his statement, tacking on “that is…if by some chance, by some random, random, completely random chance, we just so happened to run into each other again. At this or some other club. Well, I’d thought that I’d, of course, drag you back onto the dance floor to see if you’d somehow managed to acquire some dancing skills. But…”

His hand dropped away from my chest as he pressed his body firmly against mine. This close, close enough to be breathing the same air and for me to be able to detect—beneath the heavy, pervading odor in the club of numerous colognes, deodorants, and musky, funky man-sweat, plus masculine lust pheromones—a sweet, almost candy-like scent emanating from his skin, I could see that, tonight, my angel had limited his glitter adornment to only what was on his face.

Not that I would’ve cared if glitter had migrated its way from his body to mine; I was still finding small traces of pink from last night’s glitter in random and unexpected places on my person. But I had to imagine that the matching lime green glitter he’d used to complement tonight’s ensemble would be even more garishly noticeable if it,whenit, transfers onto my skin and clothing. Perhaps my angel had already experienced a difficulty in getting that vibrant green glitter off his clothing before and that’s why he’d limited his usage of it to only his face.

All thoughts of glitter, its application, and the locations and quantities of its distribution fled my brain—along with pretty much everything else—as my angel looked at me with obvious and blatant desire gleaming in his light sky-blue eyes.

“It’s only been one day,” he added. “EvenIwouldn’t expect you to have magically gotten any better at dancing in only a day, boo. So, why don’t we revisit something we both know you doexceptionallywell?”

Embarrassingly, it took me a moment or two to catch on to what he was suggesting. But, again, having my angel pressed up so close to me completely shut down all of my higher brain functions.

Laughter lit up his face in a way his teasing and smirking had not. It made him look, impossibly, even more of an angel.

“Come along, boo,” he said to me, turning, then snagging my hand with his to pull me along after him. “We have another visit to the men’s room in our near future.”

Chapter 4

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