Layers

Layers By Sigal Ehrlich


Chapter 1: The Last Time


My vision of the sea of people dancing around me to the deafening music is getting obscure; they all blend into one amorphous cluster.

Please, could someone open a window? I can’t breathe. I need to breathe!

I’m suffocating and these lights, these flickering lights, are blinding. Repeatedly blinking, I try to focus my sight. I brush back the long, blonde curl that cling to my forehead. Air, I need air!

Pushing my way, I squeeze through the frenetic moving mass of bodies, bumping into sweaty body parts, not really caring. I need to get out of here.

With my rear against the cold cement wall I bend down to rest my hands on my knees and inhale the first compulsory lungful of the night’s cool breeze. You’re fine now, Hales. Calm down. I straighten and my head feels dizzy from the haste of my movement. Or is it due to the vast amount of alcohol flowing in my bloodstream? Leaning my back against the wall, I take in the air again, filling my lungs to full capacity, and slowly, with a long, warm whistle-like breath, exhale, letting it gradually out.

How much have I had to drink so far? I’m not even competent enough to do the math in my current state. How stupid was I to agree to Tasha’s juvenile challenge? “Who can consume more mojitos?” I shake my head, upset at my callow behavior. I’m okay now, everything’s fine.

“Rough night?” The voice comes from my left, startling me. As I look for the source, my eyes fall upon a dangerously hot, tall, and dark guy with puffy biceps under a tight grey tee. He stands next to me on one leg, leaning back against the wall, bringing a burning cigarette to his flirtatious smirk as he takes his time sizing me up, ending on my somewhat glassy brown eyes.

“You could say that.” I smile at him, checking him out head to toe just as he did me, and I end up liking what I see. Without any prior reasonable urge I giggle, not sure why or what about. My senses aren’t fully aligned with the present. It seems as though my mental clarity has temporarily faded, along with any sensibility I might have had before.

The guy’s eyebrows flash up as he bites his lower lip, eyeing me, ready to attack like I’m some easy prey. “Can I help make your night better?”

Game on, hot stuff. “I am pretty positive you could,” I say, “but I’m not sure I want you to.” I flash a seductive grin at him, ending it with a slow motion of my tongue over my lips. Under his piercing stare, I push myself to stand. My legs feel wobbly, and it takes me a moment to regain stability. As I do, I sashay slowly, very conscious of my body’s enticing sway as I make my way back to the club. With one foot in, I turn back to send yet another smile to the sex on legs who regards me with a lavish grin and a wink.

Got you. I beam to myself.

“There you are!” Tasha yells over the loud music, working her provocative dance moves next to Ian, who counters her with his own sensual motions.

Had I not known Ian’s preference was for full of testosterone, buff alpha males, I’d assume he and Tasha are about to be all over each other right there, in the middle of the hectic dance floor.

“Come join us, gorgeous.” Ian extends his lean, toned arm to let me in between them. I squeeze in, hugged to an almost asphyxia amid my two best friends both loudly singing out of key in my ears about being young and setting the world on fire.

I titter in response, synchronizing my moves to mirror theirs, and the three of us dance energetically; our spirits elated, we occasionally caress or kiss each other with friendly pecks, giving the crowd a free threesome show.

“What’s the score?” Tasha asks in a high-pitched voice, grinning at us. She dances to the music, deliberately inclining her chest forward, pelvis teasing in round motions. Her navy blue dress sways around her curves adding to her overall sensual act.

“Eight to six. Hales is lingering behind,” Ian says, his face illuminated under the multicolored, flickering lights.

Tasha raises an impeccably trimmed eyebrow at us and declares, “Replenishment time friends,” then turns her face to me.

“You’re behind, Missy. Let’s do something about it.” Her lips curve up, challenging.

I shake my head in playful disapproval as we leave the dance floor to move toward the bar, holding our hands together in a human chain, passing through the thick smoke layer.

“I’m not sure I’m capable of drinking anymore,” I say. They both regard me, mischievously amused.

“It is not a matter of your capability to drink, it’s a matter of you losing. There’s a lot at stake,” Tasha utters dryly, twisting her mouth.

I feign a frown at them both while suppressing a smile, then turn to the bartender. Wow, steady Hales. Everything around me spins for what seems like forever. I hold the bar and take a deep breath.

“Let’s find love,” I hear Tasha telling Ian over the music. Ian laughs.

I snort and turn my head to send her a scornful glance. She smirks back.

“It’s a myth, no such thing exists,” I say.

She rolls her eyes at me and shakes her head. “Myth,” I mouth and shift back, resuming my attempt to order yet another round of drinks.

“A shot of vodka from the gentleman across the bar.” The broad, blond, and inhumanly tall bartender hands me a small, frozen shot glass, preventing me from executing my original plan.

As I turn my gaze in the direction he gestures, my eyes meet the guy from outside. He raises a matching glass my way from the other end of the bar. Throwing it back, he keeps his eyes steady on mine.