The March of the Black Queen (book III)

2.) 'Neath the Gay illuminations All Along the Promenade

A/N: This is a flashback chapter- to sort of fill in some missing links. Ya know- its kind of short, but I literally just sat down and wrote it in like 20 minutes anddddd I think it gets what I wanted.

So, yeah..

*SMUT WARNING*

"You look fine, stop fidgeting," Roger snickered rolling his eyes. Im mostly doing this for him- he needs the free mind as much as I do.

"Oh, I know I do. I always dress to kill," I respond, embellishing my snarky comment with a nonchalant smirk.

I've only just recently started to robot like my old self again. Leave it to these guys to get me tipsy enough to agree to this night out.

We walk into Heaven, it's eccentricity vibrant atmosphere is more than what I expected, but whatever way, we make it to an empty table. The four of us just sit around, taking the scene in. The club is fairly a new opening and I have to say- I don't think the guys knew it was mostly meant for gay men. Not that it matters, they're all married anyhow.

A couple of hours tick away and we've decided to stay and get as drunk as possible. Making a sort of competition out of the whole thing, we slam shots and have a waitress refilling our pitchers of beer on standby by. It feels so refreshing to have a laugh again with the boys, though I know it's mostly the alcohol elevating my distorted happiness.

A rather plump fellow makes his way to our table. His confidence intrigues me as he takes a seat from a nearby table and plops himself right next to me. Roger wiggles his eyebrows at me as he takes a gulp of his beer, while John winks at me with a knowing smirk.

"I think we need another refill, where is that waitress...guys?," Brian stands from his seat pretending to look around. He starts to walk away and Roger and John follow his lead.

"Can I buy you a drink?," The man leans closer to me, propping his elbow on the ledge of the table. He's got broad, muscular shoulders that are clearly accentuated by the white vest he wears. His eyes, though very glossy in drunkenness, are soft and kind. His smile is highlighted by a bushy mustache much like mine.

"I've already got my fill," I smirk at him, lifting up my glass and taking a slow sip of beer. Bring the cup down from my mouth, I cover my teeth as I pull my top lip over them, licking the foam from the long hairs of my mustache.

"A dance, then? Give a guy a chance," His hand finds my knee under the table. He starts to rub up to my mid-thigh and back down to my knee again, waiting for my response.

The heavy flirtation makes me smile shyly. I bit my lip to keep my grin in check. This is probably the luckiest fan of the night.

We make our way to the dance floor. He pulls me by our locked hands until we find an open section to move around in. The whole place is jam packed, sweaty bodies smash around each other in a big heap of love for disco melodies. We dance alone at first, giving into the beat I sling one lazy arm around him to keep me steady. The flashing lights and booming music makes my head spin. Every color dips into the other, streams of pink, green and yellow brighten up his face as he smiles down at me.

He brings his hips to grind against mine, I comply by opening my legs so our limbs can pretzel together in a sultry, sexy groove. Every spark I feel inside at the warmth of his chest against mine is a swarm of lust I thought I'd never feel again. His smile, our giddy laughter, the way his large masculine hand grips my ass- its all so much to take in.

I feel like a new man, living again in a different world and all because he took my hand. I feel everyone's stare on us as I begin to dance the way I do on stage. Sexual, seductive and prowling around the place, but he gropes my hips and brings me back to him. His sparkling eyes stare into mine as we sway together, holding streaky onto each other's waists. Feeling the adrenaline and shots of vodka heightening my bravery, I grip the sides of his face in my hands and dive into his lips.