{The Firelight Chronicles} 1: A Dangerous Game -Demisexual Lesbian Short Story

1: London Gloomy Mornings

The gentle purr of my blood-red vespa is the only thing that follows me around long twists and curves along the loud noised beaches of Cornwall, England, where the surfers go. I had imagined it to be more lively and full of people, but it's eerily quiet. Then again, nobody parties like a Puerto Rican, it must be around 4am.

The shadow of a tall mansion creeps up on my horizon, lights still on, flickering like a light show. As I near I see some drunken elites walking out, making fools of themselves as they attempt to open fancy car doors for their lovely young dates. Slowing down, I almost turn around and return to the beach house I rented for myself right then and there. It's all too much for a single girl from the Caribbean hoodlum underground scene. You'd think dancing with a bunch of drug addicts and gang members would be more distasteful. It's not. Not unless you get shot. And in my case, I still find it debatable.

I've slowed down almost to a stop. The mansion is still far away enough that only those that are leaving the lavish party could notice me, a small, petite girl on a scooter eyeing the house like it's haunted. They'd probably think I'm some teenager looking for trouble, no one would care if I turn around and leave even though it would be pretty unprofessional.

I'll give you that, given I'm the entertainment.

Five minutes of staring later and it should worry me that people are leaving, but there seems to be a lot of people inside, still. I'm sure they're well aware that I'm always a late after-party kinda gal. It's not the performance that has me nervous though, I could have always cared less. That's what makes me the best.

In my mind, I go over what possessed me to accept the one percenter's invitation when I could be playing much bigger events. Sure, it pays extremely well. That's not it, though. I, too, am in the one percent nowadays.

"Ugh, get it together, Alex, you flew all the way here," I say to myself, "It's too late for second thoughts now." I fix my helmet and accelerate all the way to the parking lot. It's cold outside anyways.

I park next to two huge square black vans with tinted windows, that's my entourage. I'd told them not to wait up. I can take care of myself. No one knows that better than De-Marcus, the head of security. He hired a guy that tried to get weird with me once. I broke his elbow and made him apologize.

On cue, a bulky black man with a shaved head walks up to me and nods, saying, "I know you're not one to miss a party, but I was starting to get worried tonight. Where you been, kid?" De-Marcus grabs my hippie-looking backpack and sets it aside as I get off the scooter.

"Cruisin'."

"Just sightseeing, huh? In the middle of the might when there's nothing to see? Something's up with you, I know it. Ever since we got here. I get paid to keep an eye out, not dawdle with rich white people," He fixes his bowtie uncomfortably.

I chuckle at that, "I'm the one who pays you, Markey, dawdle away."

He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at me, "Do I look like Cinderella to you?"

I chuckle again, "I'm sorry, should I have bought you a ball gown instead of a suit-and-tie? I should've asked."

Markey grabs me by my leather jacket and drags me towards the party, "Jokes. You've always got jokes. Besides, the suit is red, Alex. It's red." He's traumatized.

"It looks good on you, man, it's called fashion. All you ever wear is slightly different shades of black, you needed to blend in."