Last dance

It was hot. The club was a kaleidoscope of dimly lit movement and sound. The crimson floors and walls of the room seemed alive, glistening with the sweat of a hundred bodies, pulsating to the beat of the loud music. The small space was bursting with the energy of dozens of undulating bodies writhing rhythmically, almost in sync, sharing in the pleasure of sensual abandon.

Alone, Alyssa stood off to the side, observing, delighting in the spectacle. Then she noticed him. Beneath half-closed eyes, she watched him prowl the edges of the dance floor, watching the bodies slide on and around each other in a frenetic waltz of publicly displayed desire seeking private release. He moved with the grace of a feline predator, stealthily seeking its prey. She turned her head to hide a smile. She was certain that she would taste him before the night was over. She knew what she wanted. She had no qualms about reaching out and grabbing it when the opportunity presented itself.

When she turned back to find the prowler, he was not even a breath away. “Come,” he said, turning away, assuming she would follow.

She smirked and followed unhurriedly. Down the hall, pass the rest rooms, out the back door to the alley behind the club. She walked right up to him, her body flush with his and whispered huskily, “So, what…”

Before she could finish he turned around in a quick, smooth movement. In the moment before she knew, she thought he would press his lips to hers, seek her tongue with his, pull her soft curves against the hard planes of his body, shatter her senses with blissful release.

Unblinking, he stared into her eyes, barely breathing, heart beating to the rhythm of the music in the club. He watched the rapid display of emotions revealed by her eyes: Heated desire changed to fear, shock, confusion, understanding, excruciating pain, fury, hopelessness, acceptance, oblivion. He let her slide out of his grasp then, the slim, razor-sharp knife still protruding from her chest, as he slipped into the shadows of the night.