The pulsing bass vibrated through the soles of Gabriela’s shoes, a rhythmic heartbeat of the club as she scanned across the writhing sea of dancers. With each step, the mix of electronic beats and swirling synthesizers seemed to wrap around her, a tangible force amidst the shadowy expanse of the venue. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sweet perfume as she made her way through the crowds of people.
She had scanned the room several times, her eyes darting across from the crowded dance floor to the VIP balconies draped in velvet. The crowd was all a blur of faces, a mosaic of fleeting glances and half-smiles, but none belonging to Iris. She looked down at her phone screen, the unread messages to Iris accumulating.
Where on earth could she be?
The thought gnawed at Gabriela, a mix of concern and annoyance simmering beneath her skin. She had come tonight on the pretense of celebration, a night dedicated to their recent triumphs and the promise of the bright future of their careers. Yet here she was, alone in a sea of strangers because Iris had vanished after spotting a captivating stranger.
As Gabriela made her way towards the main bar, a flicker of light caught her eye. It was the flare of silver sequins, dancing like stars on a dark canvas, the unmistakable dress Iris had been so excited to wear. Weaving through the crowd, Gabriela’s heels squelched against the tacky floor, a testament to the revelry that had come before. Elbows jostled her, feet trampled hers without apology, each bump fueling the fire of her frustration.
Finally reaching Iris, Gabriela found her entangled in the arms of the handsome stranger, lost in a moment, oblivious to the world. With a firm tug on her arm, Gabriela reclaimed her friend’s attention, pulling her away from the embrace.
“Hey, what the hell?!” came the indignant cry that softened into surprise upon seeing Gabriela’s face. “Oh, Gabi, I didn’t see you! Where’d you disappear to?” Iris’s voice barely cut through the relentless pulse of the music. Before Gabriela could utter a word of reproach, Iris was ecstatic, eager to introduce her new acquaintance.
“This is...” A pause, a flicker of doubt clouded her eyes. “Sorry, what was your name again?” she asked, turning to the man whose name seemed as elusive as the fleeting moments they had shared.
“I’m Alfonso,” he bellowed, his voice a defiant roar over the relentless thumping music reverberating through the club. Alfonso thrust his hand towards Gabriela, his movements confident and commanding. Despite the chaotic spectacle of flashing club lights, Gabi couldn’t help but comprehend why Iris had been drawn to him that fateful night. He possessed an aura of magnetic allure—light blonde hair cascading down to his chin, a chiseled face that could have been sculpted by a master artist, and amber eyes that glinted beneath the veil of thick, dark eyelashes.
Gabi reluctantly accepted his offered hand, her fingertips grazing his palm in a tentative shake. An inexplicable shiver rippled up her spine as their hands met, sending a chill through her very core. Her gut twisted with an unshakable sense of dread, a gnawing feeling that something about Alfonso was amiss, and a malicious undertone lurked behind his smile. It was a hidden depth she couldn’t quite discern but instinctively knew to mistrust, like a shadow cast by an unseen menace.
With a firm pull on her arm, she signaled to Iris, “Let’s go home. My feet are killing me.” Iris seemed to sway towards the idea until Alfonso gripped her other arm.
“Why not stay a bit longer?” he coaxed with a honeyed tone, drawing Iris back into his orbit.
Gabriela’s frustration boiled over, her patience fraying like a worn thread. She yanked Iris back, initiating a human tug-of-war, with Iris caught in the middle, her gaze flitting between the two anchors of her arms. In a swift motion, Iris broke free from their hold.
Glossy-eyed and resolute, Iris declared, “I am going to stay a little longer; why don’t you go home first?”
Gabriela stared at her friend. Iris was too drunk to be left alone with a guy she had met, but Gabriela was beyond the point of trying to reason with her.
She’s a grown woman; she knows what she is doing.
“Fine. I’ll see you at home.” Gabriela shouted before she turned, missing the predatory satisfaction that curled Alfonso’s lips into a sinister smile.
Even before exiting the club, Gabriela was on her phone ordering a taxi, wanting to leave as quickly as possible.
Outside, the night air embraced Gabriela, a soothing balm to her fevered frustration. The coolness whispered of Autumn's arrival, but the chill couldn’t quell the disquiet that Alfonso had sown.
Lost in thought, her internal alarms still blaring, she barely registered the approach of a man clad in youth’s fashion but aged by time. His attire screamed of a desperate clutch at bygone days - the blue paisley shirt, the flashy gold jewelry, and jeans that sagged in a mockery of the current style.
“Hey baby girl, why so alone?” he purred, stepping into her bubble of solitude. His presence was an uninvited shadow in the neon-lit night.
Without sparing him a glance, Gabriela rebuffed him, her disinterest as clear as the crisp night air. His persistence was a gnat she swatted away with a firm “Not interested,” her annoyance seeping into each syllable.
Salvation arrived in the form of a taxi, her steel steed whisking her away from unwanted advances and unshakeable apprehensions.
As the city’s lights streaked past the taxi’s window, Gabriela’s heart remained in turmoil at leaving Iris with Alfonso.
Back within the club’s pulsating heart, Iris was ensnared by Alfonso’s gravitational pull, lured to the dance floor’s center where the lights converged into a kaleidoscope of color around them. The beat of the music was their puppeteer, dictating each sensuous sway and turn. Alfonso’s fingers danced along the contours of her waist, igniting trails of fire on her skin as his lips found the tender expanse of her neck.
They were the eye of the storm for minutes that stretched like hours, a duo moving in perfect sync amidst the chaos. It wasn’t until Iris whispered her need to step away that they detached, moving off the dance floor’s hypnotic grid and towards the restroom.
Within the washroom’s quiet, the club’s thumping bass became a distant thunder, and the veil of intoxication began to lift from Iris’s mind. As she sat to relieve herself, her gaze fell upon her right wrist to the thin silver bracelet with a small elephant charm Gabriela had gifted her after her mother passed.
I’ll say I’m also tired and need to go home.
She thought as she washed her hands and rinsed away the remnants of her recklessness. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, the brightness of her eyes returning.
The world outside the restroom had not paused. She quickly found Alfonso; his gaze was a sweeping beacon, locking onto hers with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the strobe-lit haze. His eyes, an unsettling shade of blue, flickered strangely, halting her in her tracks—a warning sign she couldn’t ignore.
As she attempted to divert her path, Alfonso’s grip clamped onto her, his voice laced with a dark melody, “Where do you think you’re going?”
Her protest was a murmur lost in the din, “I’m tired; I need to leave.”
Alfonso’s insistence was a velvet trap, “Just one more song.”
His sudden kiss was an eclipse, shadowing her senses with an overwhelming warmth that cascaded from her core to the extremities of her being. Resistance melted into acquiescence as she drowned in the sensation, her willpower ebbing away.
With a mastery that spoke of dark intent, Alfonso steered her back into the crowd, their bodies a single entity moving through the throngs of oblivious partygoers, each step taking Iris further away from the exit.
He led her through a door to a dark corner of the club, leading into a long hallway lighted by a few exposed light bulbs from overhead. He pressed her roughly against the cold concrete wall, pinning both of her arms above her head with one hand. He then used his free hand and slid it underneath her dress, rubbing her through her underwear, causing Iris to release soft moans into his mouth, and he devoured her lips. His hand continued to entice her with skillful attention. His mouth soon made its way down to her neck, planting wet kisses along the way, still holding her firmly as Iris writhed against him, her moans getting louder.
He then bit down into her neck, and Iris’ breath was caught in her throat. He eagerly lapped at the blood that spilled from the bite, the pupils of his eyes glowing blue. Iris quickly faded into unconsciousness as Alfonso continued to drain her, finally pulling away when her body went limp.
A figure of imposing stature emerged from a door nestled in the shadows of the elongated hallway. Bryson, a man whose broad shoulders and height matched the doorway he emerged from, stepped into the dimly lit corridor with a presence that commanded attention. His gait was a measured tread, each step resonating with a quiet authority.
His face, a stoic mask, betrayed no emotion as he approached Alfonso. He produced a golden handkerchief from the depths of his jacket, a tailored piece that accentuated his muscular build. With deference that spoke of his loyalty, he presented it with a bow, his deep voice a rumble in the hushed space, “Sir.”
Alfonso accepted the offering, using it to erase the blood that marred his chin and the puncture wounds on Iris’ throat, evidence of the night’s darker undertones.
“Take her away, Bryson,” Alfonso commanded, his tone leaving no room for question.
Bryson, with ease, hoisted the unconscious Iris over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing. His movements were fluid, a juxtaposition to his formidable frame.
“Shall I take her to the market?” Bryson inquired, his voice a contrast to the sinister implications of his words.
Alfonso paused, his gaze lingering on Iris. After a moment’s contemplation, he decided against it. “She was quite tasty. It would be a waste to sell her. At least for now. No. Take her to the mansion. Put her in the harem’s quarters.”
Bryson acknowledged the order with a nod, turning to retreat through the door from which he had come. But a sudden buzzing halted him mid-step. It was an unexpected intrusion in the night’s proceedings.
“Why are you stopping?” Alfonso’s impatience was evident.
“She is buzzing, sir,” Bryson reported in the otherwise silent corridor.
Alfonso, curiosity piqued, approached and discerned the source of the disturbance. Extracting Iris’s cell phone from between her chest, he observed the lit screen flashing “Gabi.” With a press of a button, he declined the call, severing the last thread connecting Iris to the outside world.
“Get rid of this on your way as well,” he instructed, handing the device to Bryson.
“Yes, sir,” Bryson responded, his voice a calm acceptance of the grim task ahead. With Iris still draped over his shoulder, he disappeared into the shadows of the hallway, a silent guardian carrying out his dark orders.
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