He comes over and sits half an arm's length from me. I can smell his expensive cologne, and I bite my lip as the sudden urge to kiss him overwhelms me. Pushing away the mischievous thoughts, I refill his shot glass with the most expensive whiskey the club offers. The bottle's half empty, he has been drinking.
My eyes, facing downward, shift toward him, itching for another glimpse into those dark, almond-shaped, siren eyes of his. I'm glad I put my hair up tonight so it doesn't obstruct my side glance at him. Even so, all I catch are glimpses of his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.
This is a medium size room at the club, max capacity for fourteen people. The setup is the same as with most other rooms. The rectangular room has a U-shaped, comfortable black sofa that wraps around the four wooden carved tables with a glass resin top against one wall. The table is filled with ice buckets, juices and other chasers, water bottles, and other drinks. The empty shot glasses are lined up neatly in one corner along with champagne and wine glasses. The opposite wall has a large-screen TV connected to a newly installed karaoke system. The ceiling features strobe lights at the center, neon lights lining the walls, and various adjustable lights. The TV and all the lights are off except for the various lights set to a candle-like setting. There's plenty of room for dancing and standing around crowd as well.
The room's quietness hugs me, but it is his presence that stirs a sense of peace within me. Desperate to catch a glimpse of him, I rotate left and upward, only for our eyes to lock instantly. A torrent of emotions wash over me—have we met before? There is something inexplicably familiar about him. His presence envelops me like a protective cocoon, lifting my spirits, soothing my soul, and setting my heart free. It is a potent elixir I can't resist.
His jet-black hair, fuller and textured at the top, tapered sharply at the sides in a seamless fade that framed his angular, sun-kissed face. The striking contrast between the deep black of his hair and the warm light tan of his skin added an undeniable allure, drawing attention to his sharp features. The beauty of his face is almost otherworldly, and his eyes radiate a kindness that draws me in.
Suddenly my heart races, betraying my emotions. His gaze is penetrating, a subtle spark in them that is mysterious and mischievous. Dangerously, he can see more than what I can bare to show. His eyes travel down my face landing on my slightly parted lips. His lips part, a small opening.
I swallow my desire to kiss him as I turn away, praying he won't notice the crimson blush staining my cheeks. I try to regain my composure, my hands sweaty on my thigh, but his intoxicating cologne only heightens my senses. What could have led this enigmatic man, built like a model to spend New Year's Eve alone in a room like this?
His presence is both reassuring and invigorating, yet his body ignites a fire that threatens to consume me. This familiarity is both enticing and alarming. The mystery behind his eyes beckons me, and I find myself irresistibly drawn to him. A battle wages within me—half desiring closeness, half yearning to escape the magnetic pull that threatens to ensnare me. With trembling resolve, I move closer. The side of our leg touching.
A sheepish smile dances across my lips as a heady mix of excitement, happiness, and a newfound sense of peace fills me. He tugs at his tie, and I sense an unspoken invitation. My heart pounding, my legs sink onto the sofa facing him and lean in to help loosen his tie. Our faces draw inches apart, and I catch his eyes lingering on my lips. Our gazes meet once more, and in that charged moment, I can't resist.
My voice barely more than a whisper, I say, "Should I give you a New Year kiss?"
The club owner, Jimmy, swings the door open and offers a hasty apology. I see why he didn't knock.
"Oh gosh... it's already 6:30!" I gasp, sinking back onto the sofa as I scramble to gather my things and slip into my pumps.
"We'll stay open for you two," he assures us with a knowing grin, then closes the door behind him.
Flustered, I stammer, "It's late—I mean early. Thank you very much for allowing me to enjoy your beautiful silence."
He reaches for his wallet, pulls out a stack of $100 bills that I estimate total over one thousand, and extends it to me with his left hand.
"Oh no! I can't. It's my fault for not seeing the DO NOT ENTER sign… until now… when the owner opened the door. You didn't want company or to be disturbed. But—" What I truly desire is to kiss him, and a sudden surge of boldness overcomes me. Why shouldn't I? I perch on his lap, smiling as I lean in close enough to catch the scent of whiskey on his breath.
I whisper into his breath, my words a blend of flirtation and shyness. "Likely we'll never run into each other again... I want to kiss you for New Year's, can I?"
The question hangs in the air.
Thud.
Thud.
And he still doesn't move.