Jaemin the Icy Prince on Campus - Na Jaemin NCT

14. The Fiddle

Author's note: Slightly PG, racier than normal, so to the faint-hearted: proceed with caution.

"The night's not over yet," you said, laughing. "C'mon, I'll show you where we stressed-out students go when we want to unwind."

You lead me down a long, narrow alley, and past a line of dimly-lit shops on both sides. Inside each shop, I could see people eating ramen, slurping up the noodles with relish, and harried, sweaty-looking servers with hair held back in white caps, and stained aprons, carrying trays of steaming bowls to the tiny wooden tables, all pushed up against one another, back to back, taking up almost every bit of available space in the cramped, confined shops.

"Here we are," you said finally. "C'mon, it's down this way, mind your steps."

We walked down a narrow spiral flight of steps, which seemed to go on and on endlessly.

"Are we going down to a dungeon?" I said breathlessly, clutching at your arm.

"You'll see," you said, laughing.

And then finally, on the left, right at the bottom of the steps - we must have gone down fifty, at least - I saw a glass door, and bright lights coming from within.

And just at that moment, it was flung open, and a couple emerged, laughing, arm in arm, their eyes bright, their faces flushed, and I could hear a swell of applause from within, and laughter, and the babble of chatter, all mixed together, into a breaking sound like a giant wave, a sort of roar.

We stepped inside, and you took off my coat, and yours as well, and hanged them on giant hooks shaped like enormous claws on a plastic rack, the longest rack I'd ever seen, stretching as far as the eye could see, with its line of giant hooks the sole adornment on the stark white plastic; it was, without a doubt, quite the ugliest thing I'd even seen in my life.

"Look down there," you shouted to me, over the deafening music. "Have you ever seen anything like this in your life?"

We were leaning over a kind of balcony, which looked down onto the vast floor beneath, where it seemed the whole of humankind was converged. People were dancing in the middle of the floor, a whole sea of them, swaying, shaking, gyrating to the beat, some in twos, others in threes, or more. Everywhere I looked, there were people, all young, all beautiful, all happy, their eyes glittering, their faces flushed. A bar was perched at a shadowy corner, and bartenders dressed in smart black suits were mixing drinks, making cocktails, pouring fizzy bubbly into tall slender glasses. Couples were making out in shadowy corners, draped over one another, their faces unseen, hidden...

A group of willowy girls were dancing wildly with a group of men in white uniforms. The song ended, but they continued to dance. Someone ran onto the raised platform in front, and started to play a fiddle with three strings. Crazy tunes broke into the air. A mass of people surged onto the floor, shouting, laughing, clapping. Girls were whirled from their feet, their skirts flying out behind them. The guys laughed and sang, beating to the rhythm with their feet, stamping boisterously upon the floor. The onlookers lolled languidly against the walls, some drunk, others dreamy-eyed, careless of time.

There were no rules here, no conventions to follow; anything, and everything went.

"It's crazy, isn't it?" you yelled into my ear.

I turned to you to answer, and I saw our reflections in the tall glass mirror at the side; I looked like a ghost in silver-white, with one foot on the bottom step leading down to the floor, my head turned towards you, your hand on my arm.

You smiled, holding out your arms.

"Shall we?" you said, with a wicked glint in your eyes. "Are you up to it?"

And as I looked up into your eyes, with the pulsating, manic beat of the fiddle and the stamping of a hundred feet beneath me, a kind of madness took hold of me.

"Sure," I breathed. "Why not?"

And you caught hold of me, and swept me into the madness. I danced with you, flushed, excited, eager. Faster and faster went the fiddle, and faster and faster flew our feet around the room. I felt your arm tighten around my waist, and was aware of the warmth of your body against mine. I could feel your breath upon my cheek. I raised my head and met your eyes. They looked into mine, caressing, and you moistened your lips with your tongue. We smiled into each other's eyes, reading each other's thoughts. An exquisite shudder, like the touch of a cool hand, ran through me. My legs felt weak beneath me. I lowered my eyes, conscious of desire, and I wondered wildly whether you were consumed with the same madness, the same fever as me. I looked into your face, and I saw the same wildness, the same reckless madness in your eyes.

"Mina," you said, and your voice was hoarse, jagged. 

We stopped dancing abruptly. You held my hand tightly, and led me away from the dancing couples; we stumbled to the plastic rack and fumbled with our coats, and walked silently, on and on, until we reached a back door. You opened it, and we walked through. You closed the door behind me, and we were outside, the moon above us, casting a moonlit path ahead of us as we walked on, silently, never speaking, never saying a word. Soon we had reached a park, and a cluster of woods. The tall grass bathed my ankles and the wind leapt through my hair. It sang in my ears, a triumphant call. 

The rain started to fall again, silently.

I waited.

Nothing mattered but now, this moment. Above us, the stars shone upon me, and the wind blew. 

You appeared from behind, a tall dark shadow, and wrapped your arms around me, drawing me into your warmth.

"Mina," you whispered, your voice heavy, sluggish with desire, trembling upon the wind. 

You turned me towards you, to face you. You unzipped my dress with tembling fingers, and it fell to my arms; I put my hands before my eyes to hide my face. 

"No," you whispered achingly, "Don't hide yourself, I want to look at you, every inch of you. God, you're so beautiful - " And your voice cracked a little, and you buried your lips in my hair, my throat, my breasts. 

I stood then with arms outstretched, waiting, naked to the waist down and unashamed, swept by the wind. My heart beat strangely, my hands trembled. I curled my fists into your hair and the cold wind struck upon my breasts and swept the hair from my face, I could hear the singing of it in my ears. I smelled the salt tang of your sweat upon my body; it stung my lips and my eyes. The longing came upon me to laugh with the wind, to cry with the sea, to open wide my arms and be possessed by you, for you to make me yours, to brand me yours, to leave your stamp and your mark on me totally, completely...