I have not killed Dan...yet, but I'm still thinking about it. Moron. Haha. It was bound to happen though, who am I kidding? For now, he is still in one piece. :)
I thought for being so wonderful to me and to Dan, I would give you all three previews of stories that I've been getting nudged about. The Banshee story I've decided to enter in a Halloween contest and I haven't titled yet. Second Chance, the angel story I started about a month ago and that will debut in the winter. Then we have Isaac. Now that you all know the truth about the next story, I figured you could have a fun little snack.
Thanks again you guys for being so awesome. I REALLY appreciate the love. Muah.
Banshee Novella ~ YAY~! **UNEDITED**
The old woman picked up her skirts. Her calloused bare feet ran through the woods as fast as her ancient body would carry her. Fear flitted through her eyes, a premonition of the newborn’s death still lingering in her mind. With quickened breath, her lungs trying to keep up in her chest, the old crone breached the thick trees and made way for the tall fence that guarded the village.
Four men stood watch, hands on the swords at their belts. They stood tall, watching the old witch run towards them. The biggest of the lot stepped forward, his torch extended to ward her back.
“You are forbidden from this place, witch. We have no wish to hear of your curses against our God or have your hands touch our people. Go back into the woods, where you shall rot for your wicked ways.” Seamus Thackett stood proud. He would protect his people from the crone’s black magic and the evil that came with it.
The old woman stopped in her tracks, catching her breath before she could speak. “You will listen to me boy. I have no quarrel with you or yours! I am no witch or sorceress! I have been given a gift from above and tonight I have been shown something evil!” The wind began to howl through the trees, Seamus’s flame wavering like a dark omen.
“A babe will be born this night! Your midwife is gone to the river and will not return before the time comes. The woman and her child will die without my help. That child is meant to end them all, he cannot die! Let me through and I will save them both.”
“Lies! All lies.” Gorren Gailley stepped forward with a snarl. “She has been watching us. Fiona made the trip East but yesterday!”
Thog Mueller nodded. “Aye. Tis no other way she would have known this. The crone has been laying eyes on our families! Tis no other way she would’ve know my Ilsa is with child! How dare you wish my family dead!”
He unsheathed his sword, an eerie slice of glinting silver in the moonlight. “I will have your head crone.”
Drean Laird held back his cousin, his arms around the large man’s chest. “No, do not bait her. She has not laid hands on anyone. Do not give her cause for harm. Her words are like air. They come and go, but they never stay in the same place. They do not dwell here.”
“I thank you son of Laird for being of a sound mind, but what I say is the truth. If you wish for the maid and her babe to see the morning, you will listen to me.” The old woman could feel the air change around her. Shadows danced in the tree line, the time was coming. The woman and her child would be taken from this world. A child who was to be a great man, a man that could put the very evil she protected these people from, back where it belonged. Tonight he would be lost forever.
Shadow after shadow slithered through the cracks of the fence before her very eyes. What would be mistaken as tricks of the night were not tricks at all. Souls that had been forgotten, misplaced, unloved came out to feed their empty hearts—to steal the warmth of another for the barest of seconds before moving on to another vulnerable body.
“Please! They come for your family, Thog! They are here,” she wailed. “Let me pass, I must get to them.”
“You will do no such thing,” Seamus bellowed.
A woman’s scream lit up the night. So pure and anguished, the pain was unmistakable.
“Please!” The crone screamed, fetching the pack from her shoulder. “I can help her!”
“What have you done?” Thog’s eyes widened. “What have you done! Isla!” He threw the gate open, tearing through the village like a wild horse.
The three remaining men held the witch back as she thrashed against them, her persistence strong to get to the woman and child.
Minutes later a man’s roar vibrated in the air. The shadows slipping back through the cracks from which they had come. Back into the woods they went, onto another body, another place—more mindless evil to accomplish.
The crone fell to her knees. Her fingers reached out in mourning for the little child lost, the woman that would never know the gift of watching her family grow. Their souls were lost forever.
A commotion at the gate stole the crone’s cries. Thog appeared, blood covering his hands and chest. His eyes were full of rage.
“You will die,” he screamed with sword in hand.
The men let him through. All, but Laird stood to the side.
“Do not do this, Thog. Do not release her soul into the world,” the youngest of the men whispered. “Think my brother, think of what you do.”
Thog pushed the smaller man out of the way. Raising his sword above the crone, he screamed.
“I take from you what you have taken from me—the air I breathe, my heart and soul, my life.”
The crone’s clear blue eyes darkened for a moment, a deep breath filling her lungs as the night grew still. Everyone gathered looked around at the eeriness of the moment. It was too quiet, too strange, goose bumps forming on their arms and neck.
In a voice filled with an otherworldly possession, she said, “take my life from me for that of which you could have prevented and I will curse you and yours until eternity. Until the stars fall from the sky and the world under your feet parishes, you will always know death. Your years will be forever, your minds filled with the horrors of innocents stolen. Your children will scream in mourning, their eyes older than their years with nightmares of which they do not understand. For I have lived in this tragedy all my years, you will know it tenfold. Thackett, Gailley, Mueller, and Laird, I curse thee blood with the darkest gift. Only in true death will you be free.”
With a mighty cry, Thog pierced the crone’s chest, pinning her to the ground. His people pulled him off her immediately—fearful of what was to happen next. They believed her of the highest evil when all she had wanted to do was help. What gifts she had been given were to protect them all, but they forced her away; afraid of what they did not understand.
Dropping to his knees, Drean Laird cradled the crone’s head while she tried to take a gurgling breath. “Forgive me, Crone. This was not the way.” A tear slipped down his cheek at the violence shed upon this old and weathered woman. “You did not deserve this end.”
In the crone’s final moments, she felt the man’s sincerity. Her hand reached up and touched his neck. Something dark passed between her eyes as she felt her life slipping away, the last of her gift given to him for his act of grace. No one should ever have to die alone and Drean Laird would be the last person she ever saw alive.
Her eyes flicked to the pack next to her head. He followed her gaze, but by the time he looked upon her face again…she was dead. He had only a moment to breathe before her body exploded into a flock of ravens that took for the sky above them. They circled overhead as the villagers watched with horror.
Grabbing the pack and stuffing it under his cloak, Drean Laird stood with the others—tears still running down his face. He set eyes on the birds above and knew within the darkest recesses of his chest, the nightmare was only just beginning.
His young wife Airlin, came to his side. Her fingers threaded through his to give her strength, but when she touched his face, the look he returned made her blood run cold. Something dark and not of this good earth ran through his eyes. Like the darkness of the soil beneath them, Drean’s eyes turned black.
Present Day - Lillith, Maine
Coming home from a hike through the woods, Andrew Laird slowed his pace to enjoy his last few minutes of solitude. Golden leaves spun to the ground around him. A gentle breeze that smelled like fall rustled his coppery hair. Always drawn to the woods, he put his hand on the nearest tree, and took a deep inhale of his favorite place in the world.
The woods were like him—a little dark, mysterious in the secrets hidden within them. Ever since he was little, he’d wandered them. Making trails, carving his name in the trees, playing in the stream that butted up against the township line. He loved this place and it was times like these that he cherished the privacy it held. Because when he went back into town, he had to pretend to be someone he wasn’t—a normal, eighteen year old with dreams bigger than life.
For most people his age, those dreams consisted of getting out of Lillith, going to college, doing a little partying and meeting your future spouse, but for him…that wasn’t really an option. Yeah, he could get married, but it would have to be to someone who could handle his secret—someone willing to share his darkness. College? Yeah right, he sighed. He could barely get through some nights without having his parents console him. He couldn’t imagine what a roommate would think about that.
It wasn’t like Andrew hadn’t known what his life would be like since he was little. His parents had told him about his ability since he was old enough to understand. That didn’t make it any easier though. As he grew up, hiding his secret grew harder and harder. You couldn’t call in sick to school forever.
When years passed and his spells only grew worse, his parents had decided it was best if everyone believed he was having seizures. But even that could only go so far. Now that he was eighteen, his ‘seizures’ were getting more detailed, more horrific, more frequent. What scared him the most was the look on his father’s face when he woke him up from a nightmare or out of one of his day spells. A look that was fearful for a man who had lived with the same ability his whole life. Only Andrew’s father, he’d never had spells to his son’s extreme. Not only was he a freak, he was a super freak.
Thank the universe for Saul though. His best friend had stuck beside him since first grade. Saul was bigger, badder, his savior. But there was one thing that he had never told Saul, the one thing he craved to tell him—his secret. Like everyone else in Lillith, Saul thought he was ill, had seizures. If he knew for sure that Saul wouldn’t run for the hills, Andrew would tell him in heartbeat, but he couldn’t risk losing the only person who had ever understood him, the one person that he loved with all his heart.
No fucking way was he about to lose Saul. He’d rather poke his eyes out than see the look of horror on his best friend’s face if he found out.
Clearing the trees into his backyard, Andrew looked up in thought to find his best friend lounging on the deck like it was a summer day. Feet propped up on the table surfing through his phone, Saul bobbed along to his headphones. It wasn’t until he got a nudge to the knee that he looked up with a soul stealing grin.
“Yo.” He winked.
Pulling an ear bud from Saul’s ear, Andrew smiled back. “Get your feet off the table before mom has a fit.”
“Hey to you too grumpy. Did you have a good hike?” The question was genuine.
“Yeah, saw that damned bird again. I swear it’s following me, so fucking weird.” Andrew shook his head.
“No way, couldn’t have been the same one. That bird was crazy man. One blue eye?”
Pulling out his phone, Andrew held up a picture of the raven to Saul. Sure enough the bird had looked directly at the camera—one blue eye, one black.
“Holy crap, that’s spooky dude.” Saul gawked. “I would’ve thought you were bullshitting, but we saw it in town. You just took this?”
“Yep, told you so.” Andrew smirked.
His best friend stood with a serious look. “I know. You never lie to me, Drew.” His light green eyes held Andrew’s for a few seconds before he started cracking up. “God, look at your face. Like you I had just caught you with your pants down or something. You’re so uptight dude.”
Heart slowing a little, Andrew punched Saul in the arm. “You were so serious. Like you were about to tell me you were an alien…”
“What if I were?” Wiggling his fingers in Andrew’s face, Saul laughed.
Andrew shrugged nervously. “I could deal with it.”
“Like I said, you’re always taking me way too seriously. Lighten up, Drew.” Saul grabbed his shoulders, rubbing them a little. The touch made Andrew want to moan on the spot. Any contact with Saul was the best kind of contact. Big hands, good grip, body heat…yep.
“Damn you’re tight.” Saul made a face.
Andrew swallowed. Just last night Saul had said the same thing to him in his dreams. “What?”
“You’re tense.” Saul raised his brows for a second. “You okay? You would tell me if you’re not, right?”
So he had heard that wrong. Holy mother those hands on him were driving him crazy. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Drew, I’m serious. You’re taking those meds and everything right? The doctor said they would loosen up the night terrors a little bit. Are you sleeping okay?” Saul was always concerned about his health. Ever since the word seizure was mentioned, you’d think he was made of glass whenever the guy was around. It made Andrew feel pathetic, weak, and sometimes for just a second. It made him feel that Saul was only around to make sure he didn’t fall off a cliff.
“Yes mom, I’m fine.” Andrew shook his hands off, going for the slider door.
“Drew, I didn’t mean it like that. I just worry…”
“Whatever, you gonna play Xbox or not?” Andrew slid the door open.
Saul pushed past him, obviously bothered by the sudden change in subject, but he didn’t say anything about it. “Yeah and I’m gonna whoop your ass too.”
Yes, please, Andrew sighed. More like yeah right. Saul was about as into him as a boyfriend as he was into watching paint dry. He’d seen the magazines under Saul’s bed, gone along with all the conversations about Lisa Haney’s gargantuan boobs, and seen what was stored on Saul’s computer. The guy was into small brunettes with lady parts, not guy best friends with a hard on for him. It was more than sexual to Andrew though. He wanted Saul, all of him. Resigned to the fact that it would never be though, he settled for a best friend over nothing.
His bedroom was a mess as usual. Clothes littered the floor. Dvds were creating a mountain around his entertainment system and his bed looked like a nest instead of a piece of furniture. Saul didn’t seem to mind as he sank to the floor, pulled off his boots and rested his head against the bed.
“Get your ass in gear grandma. Get over here.” He patted the carpet next to him. His brows waggled a little.
“What, not getting any lately?” Andrew teased.
Something flitted across Saul’s face before he turned to the television. “Nope, just my hand for me,” he clipped.
Sliding down next to Saul, Andrew frowned. “Dude, I was just kidding.”
In response, his best friend booted up the Xbox and sat back. “I know.”
Staring at the screen, Andrew felt Saul move closer. A hand slid through the back of his hair, a shudder running down the back of his neck.
“You need a haircut,” Saul murmured.
“Yes,” Andrew whispered, his brain not working beyond simple answers. Those fingers gently kneaded into his neck before they disappeared.
Saul laughed. “Yes? What are you broken?” A flick to his ear broke Andrew from his disappointment.
“Whatever, don’t touch me like that. It’s kind of g…”
“Gay?” Saul interrupted dryly, pulling his knees up.
“Sorta.” Andrew looked at him slowly. Oh yeah, that hit a nerve. What the hell?
“Fine, I won’t touch you. Wouldn’t want you to think I was a fag or something.” He hit a few buttons to gear up the game.
“What? Where did that come from?”
“Nothing, just drop it.”
Throwing the controller onto a pile of clothes, Andrew turned. “No. I wanna know what your problem is. That came out of nowhere and now you’re pissed. Your jaw is even twitching.”
“I said drop it, Drew. It’s nothing.”
“If it were nothing, you would look at me right now. But you can’t do that, can you?”
“Drew, I said…”
“You said? What are you my king? No, fucking talk to me. What the hell does it matter if I think you’re gay or not? It wouldn’t change a damn thing. You’re still you, I’m still me. Or is it that you hate them? Is that it, because the Saul I know would rather spit on his grandmother than call someone a fag.” He had no idea where the courage to challenge Saul was coming from, but his hands were shaking as he did so. Why were they having this conversation?
“I never said I was a homophobe! Where the fuck do you get off calling me that? Why are you pushing this? I said it was nothing!” Saul turned his eyes on him. The green was magnified with unshed tears. Holy shit, Andrew reached out.
“Saul?” Andrew whispered.
“You just can’t stop can you?”
“Not when it’s you. You worry about me, I worry about you. That’s how this works. Right now, I’m worried.”
“Everyone has a secret to keep, Drew, even you.” Saul took a deep breath.
Slowly, Andrew thumbed a tear from Saul’s cheek. “What’s yours?”
“I can’t, Drew. Not even for you. It would ruin everything.”
Hypnotized by Saul’s mysterious vulnerability, Andrew crawled closer. “Tell me.”
“Don’t do this to me, Drew. I’m not ready for this.” His hand betrayed him, sliding up Andrew’s arm.
Saul didn’t have to say what his secret was, because Andrew knew that look in his eyes all too well. He’d been wearing it for a long time, shielding his eyes from Saul whenever he was watching. But what did you do when a fantasy came true? If you played it out, what happened afterwards? Was taking this up a notch going to ruin what they had or improve it?
Inches apart, Andrew knew that he had to know what it was like. Even for a second, he wanted to know what Saul holding him felt like.
“You say everyone has a secret, but you don’t know what mine is. Do you?”
“No.” Saul’s breathing was loud as Andrew straddled his lap and sat down.
Staring into Saul’s eyes, Andrew pulled the tab of his hoodie zipper down, parting the fabric away from his best friend’s chest. A dark tank top remained. Saul was frozen to the spot.
“What are you…”
“What you want me to do. What I want to do.” Saul’s hoodie landed across the room. Hands slid down his arms, up again. Arms slid around his neck. Andrew’s lips neared his. Yes. Yes. Yes.
“You want to?” His own hands slid up Andrew’s back. “You really…”
With a moan, Andrew’s lips pushed against Saul’s. Suddenly he was pushed onto the floor, a gloriously hard chest pressing him into the carpet. Lips crushed his, tongues slicked against one another, hands in hair—grasping at clothes.
Like a starving man, Andrew opened his mouth wider for more. He couldn’t believe they were doing this. After all these years of thinking the man he loved was straight as an arrow, a few minutes changed all that. A fantasy made real upon his very lips. He wanted to cry, to scream, to die from happiness. Tears pricked his eyes while his best friend touched him all over—those hands craving more of his skin like Saul couldn’t get enough.
To keep from being pushed across the carpet, Andrew shot a hand out. His palm hit a piece of paper lying on the floor. His eyes shot open as whispers began to fill his ears. Saul didn’t notice what was happening, but Andrew’s brain exploded with terror. No, please! Not here, not now.
Closing his eyes shut tight, Andrew pushed Saul off him and rolled over as a spell began to take him. Eyes shut, mouth closed, keep it that way damn it! He couldn’t let Saul see his eyes. He couldn’t let him hear his screams. Like dropping off a rollercoaster, his stomach lurched as he was sucked into a vision.
Second Chance Prologue
When people think of death, they always wonder what’s on the other side. Were they good enough to experience the majestic wonders of the king of all creation? If not, would someone at least be kind enough to show them mercy for all their wrongs? Or would they be banished into the fires of hell forever?
I’m here to tell you that the afterlife is not what you’ve imagined. Hell is for people that gave up. They gave over to their dark side and refused to turn back. Serial killers, pedophiles, people that knew from the beginning what they were doing was wrong and chose to keep doing it. Heaven? Heaven is a place for everyone else. People that even at the last second realized they didn’t mean it, they were sorry. The creator would never turn away anyone with a heart, a soul.
There is no in between, there isn’t a place where you sit and wait for eternity. Limbo, I’ve heard it called. From the moment your heart stops, to the moment you realize your dead. You know where you’re going, home. A beautiful place that I can’t tell you about because that would be cheating, but just know that when it’s your time, you won’t be disappointed.
Tell your families and friends not to worry when you go. They take good care of you around here. Your loved ones will see you again one day. It’s not a matter of religion. It’s not a preference of belief. Every human with a soul from every corner of the earth will walk here one day.
As beautiful as it all is though, I can’t fully enjoy it. I was informed when I arrived that I wasn’t supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to die yet. They’re trying their best to figure this all out, negotiate a deal. But how do you even begin to deal with that, especially when you already feel guilty enough. That’s right. I may have forgot to mention one small detail. My best friend back on earth…he thinks he killed me.
The dance studio was located in Harris, a small town on the way to the city. It was only about twenty minutes from the compound and an easy way for the kids to escape the guards because they were so close to home. Isaac could go anywhere with the twins and Nan, all three of them trained to kill, all three of them smart. The queen and their parents trusted them to stay safe. Sometimes you just had to let go, even of your children.
Grabbing a quick coffee from the place in the same complex, Isaac rushed into the studio out of breath. His instructor or friend, kind of, looked at him with a smile. Joseph wasn’t much older than him, a dance school drop-out that made his living running this place for his mother. Easy on the eyes, Isaac blushed at the blonde haired teacher. His bag dropped to the floor.
“Sorry I’m late. My ride had to stop somewhere first.” He slipped off his jacket, his tight tank top revealed to Joseph’s eyes. His coffee placed on the side table, catching his breath.
Walking across the glossy floor, Joseph winked. “It’s all good. I don’t have to be anywhere, but here.”
“I find that hard to believe. I’m sure you had plenty of offers on a Friday night.” Isaac averted his eyes. His long sweats slipping off to show the small shorts underneath.
“Nah, why would I want to go anywhere when I have you to keep me company?” Joseph tapped the bar on the wall. “Warm up?”
“Yeah, I didn’t stretch yet.” Isaac walked to bar and put a hand on it, facing Joseph.
They were so at ease with each other. A student teacher relationship for over a year, they could enjoy the part where they didn’t make small talk, but he knew Joseph liked to hear about his life. Guess it was more exciting or something. Not that Joseph knew about his ‘real’ life, but it was nice to talk to someone on the outside as if he was normal.
“You weren’t going to come tonight were you?” Joseph bent his knees, dipping into a plié with Isaac.
“Why do you say that?”
“You look stressed, tired. You could’ve just called this off for the night. That’s okay to do, you know?”
“Thanks for the compliment, I guess.” Isaac looked down, his arm curved in as he dipped a second time. His legs bent slowly, a nice stretch in his lean muscles. A few minutes of silence filled the room before he put his foot on the bar and reached forward.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I know you well enough that I can read you fairly well. Most dancers speak with their bodies. You seemed tense, was what I should have said.”
“Oh yeah, home is stressing me out lately. I got into a huge fight with my best friend and…” Isaac sighed. “I just need to dance. Get it out.”
“What about? If you don’t mind?” Joseph didn’t miss a beat, plugging in Isaac’s phone as he threw his hair up in a tie. A nice slow beat flowed from the ceiling seconds later before Isaac’s fingers wrapped around the shiny steel pole in the center of the room, the cool touch electric to his skin.
“We don’t get each other anymore. I thought I knew who he was, always would, but people change. Sometimes overnight.” His words were sad as he took a slow spin on the pole, his foot still dragging along the ground.
“It’s alright to be different than other people. What fun would it be if we were all the same?” That was that. Joseph didn’t push. Isaac said what he wanted to and somehow he felt better with just letting that small bit out. Joseph just had this way about him. Everyone had a way he guessed.
A jazz singer had a band, a mic to relieve their soul. Isaac had dance, the pole that never moved, that would always be there no matter what. He was the one that changed things around it, he controlled this part of his life, and he was really good at it.
“Do your thing. I’m gonna let you have at it first. I think you need it.” Joseph dimmed the lights until the pole was spotlighted. Isaac slipped down to the ground to stare at him. “Show me how you feel,” his instructor said. The very words lit Isaac up inside.
Isaac’s personal playlist flipped to ‘Low Place Like Home’ by SneakerPimps and he rose to his knees. His hands sliding up the pole like a lover. His darkness called to it, his toes pushing up until he was standing with his knee around the metal rod. With a slow spin Isaac grabbed on with both hands and lifted his lower body into the air. He couldn’t use his muscles to fight, but he wasn’t weak. On the pole, he was his own god.
Legs extended with his toes in line, he suspended his whole body with a spin. His cock rubbed against the pole as he rolled his hips. His mind in another place as the music represented his thoughts, his body. He climbed up further, his legs gripping on as he let his upper body fall backwards. Back arched into the cool air of space, he closed his eyes.
He couldn’t help, but imagine Knox’s body between his legs, those thick muscles standing tall as Isaac rubbed against the vampire. A hand trailed down his body, his own fingers playing out his fantasies. Losing himself to the music, he caressed the pole until his feet hit the ground softly. Up and down he pressed against his imaginary lover. Hands, legs, tendrils of hair—Isaac was the music.
On stage was going to be different. It wouldn’t be only Joseph watching him. Isaac wanted to captivate them all. He wanted his body to bring pleasure just from looking. He wanted them to feel the pent up need he’d lived with for so long. The real purpose of putting himself in front of that particular crowd was to excite one person. As he lifted his body away from the ground, Isaac let his hair fall back imagining Knox watching him.
The thought made him hard in his skin tight shorts, his mind unaware of anything else, but Knox. That is until a hand smoothed up the arch of his back, another one following over his stomach—stretching him into a tighter line from the side, forcing him to rely on his lower stomach muscles to hold him perfectly still. He knew it was Joseph guiding him. Though high on his ideas, Isaac played into his fantasy.
They were Knox’s fingers on his skin. Lower they went until his dream lover held a warm palm below his navel, one on his ass as he extended a leg in a perfect line. It was a complicated pose, but Isaac was a fast learner. At this angle, his ass gripped the pole, he could feel the cool steel through his shorts—God he was so hard.
It was his last thought as he felt the glossy studio floor under his knees.
“Wow,” Joseph remarked when he opened his eyes. “That was…just wow.”
From the dumbfounded look in his instructor’s eyes, Isaac knew he wasn’t messing around. If he didn’t know any better, he would think Joseph was just as turned on as he was. But he had enough self-control to not check out his teacher’s package as evidence.
“Where did you learn that? I certainly didn’t teach you.”
“Sorry, sometimes I get pretty into it, and I…” Isaac flushed with heat, looking down.
A hand went to his knee. “Isaac, that was incredible. Don’t downplay a move like that. That took strength and an organic creativity that I don’t even possess. I’m sorry if I ruined your finish, but I wasn’t sure if you knew how to come down from that.”
“No, it um helped. I might have fallen on my ass without you.” He smirked.
Joseph chuckled. “Doubtful, but it was more for my own piece of mind. Don’t want a lawsuit.”
“I would never do that.” Isaac’s eyes widened.
“Isaac, I was kidding.” Joseph helped him onto his feet. “Now, I think you better tell me where else you’re taking classes, because that move was pro.”
Isaac bit his lip with a smile. “It felt right, so I did it. No other classes, I swear.”
“You felt it?” Joseph blew out a slow breath. “Maybe you should be teaching me.”
“I don’t know about that, but I was wondering if we could switch our classes to another night during the week.” Isaac looked up shyly.
“Another night? Did your mysterious he-man crush finally ask you out?” Joseph nudged him jokingly.
“No.” Isaac’s smile fell. “But if I do this right, he might.”
“Do what right?” That got Joseph’s attention.
“I need you to show me a dance so hot, no one can resist. Not even the most stubborn, bitter, of assholes. Something that will make every head in that club crave me.”
“Whoa, why don’t you start by telling me what club? What people? And for heaven’s sake, who is this guy that you’re willing to finally go on stage for? I’ve been trying to get you to go for months, for some fun, and you’ve refused. I need details, Isaac.” Joseph brought him his coffee.
“Next Friday, Sated, there’s an amateur night. They’re looking to find a new dancer or least that’s what I heard.” He sipped his coffee nervously.
“Sated? Of all the places you could pick to debut, you go there? Sated is pretty hardcore, Isaac. I don’t mean to put a damper on your plans, but the owners are kind of, well. They’re kind of scary.”
“Tell me about it,” Isaac muttered. When Joseph gave him a look, he turned around. “I mean I’ve been there before. I just figured go big or go home right?”
“You sure some guy is worth putting yourself up on that stage? The clientele expect a lot, Isaac. They pay those dancers a lot of money.”
Putting his coffee back down, Isaac peeled off his tank top, and faced Joseph. “Then let’s give them their money’s worth.” He put his hands on the pole. His eyes determined when inside he was so nervous that Joseph would say no.
With a shake of his head, Joseph laughed. “I don’t know who this guy is, Isaac. But yeah okay, let’s give him a show that he’ll never forget.”
Hands went around his and Isaac smiled at himself in the mirror. This time, I’m gonna leave you speechless, Knoxtian Montesego.