This is definitely my scene, Ryan thought as the loud beat of music rushed through his bloodstream, pumping him up with adrenaline. And he wasn’t the only one that felt this way. Everyone around him was gyrating to the nonstop music, their bodies rubbing up and down each other to the sound of the beat, crushing, pushing, swaying, moving until they didn’t look like individual dancers out to enjoy themselves, but one gigantic mass, melting together on the dance floor.

The atmosphere was high, as if they were all addicted to this infinite drug. As the music increased in tempo, so did their energy level. The air itself was a mixture of sweat and perfume, intoxicating and overpowering his olfactory sense. But, man oh man, did he love it. He felt so alive, so happy, so carefree.

Looking around him, all he saw was a sea of blurry faces, each consumed in their own world of passion. He tried to keep to the centre of the dance floor, where all the action took place, but as more people clamored into the throng, the others got pushed to the side. Himself included.

As he took a side step to avoid another wave of bodies hitting him, he collided with something soft. Turning to see what he’d damaged, he found the sexiest girl he’d ever laid eyes on. She looked up at him and at that very moment, as if they sang the same tune, she gave him a seductive smile. He, in turn, smiled at her.

Liking what she saw, the girl moved towards him. Her hands immediately went to capture his neck, and as the music changed from Lady Gaga’s “Applause” to J.Lo’s “Papi,” she was butt-swinging around him, arms and legs assaulting him at every turn, and man was he turned on.

The mysterious girl suddenly leaned into his lips, nipping and sucking at him like there was no tomorrow, until he was puffed out of energy, his lungs starved for oxygen. There was no electricity shooting through his body, just a lapping, distasteful kiss, the amount of saliva flooding the floor of his mouth almost drowning him alive.

How can someone so hot be such a bad kisser? Ryan thought as his libido got crushed. Pushing the girl away gently, he went in search of water for his parched throat. How ironic when just mere moments before he was almost drowned in her saliva. The girl looked slightly wounded for a second but then was off galloping to her next victim like the trollop she likely was. Ryan felt sorry for the poor sod who would experience the same predicament he just did.

Paving his way to the bar was an incredible mission that required more than strength and stamina. Standing at almost 1.9 meters tall, he still had to squeeze past those high-craze, energetic animals, like raging bulls, their heads bumping into him at every turn. The more he tried squeezing between them, the more he was pushed back, like a rag doll tossed about.

Summoning his energy, he willed himself forward, pushing among those sweaty bodies until he was safely on the other side of the dance floor. By then he realized he needed more than just the standard drink to get his energy up and pumping again. Again, he cursed himself for not eating beforehand. Dancing really was a strenuous exercise in itself.

When Ryan reached the bar, he eyed the bartender, slamming his hand down on the counter and shouting for a pint of Speight’s, but the bartender was blind to his request, as he was currently in an argument with a couple of women. Inching closer, he heard them speak.

“She’s thirty,” one of the women said to the bartender.

“Thank you, Dalia, for clarifying,” the other one said, smiling. And turning to the bartender, she shouted, “I’m thirty. My friend just confirmed that fact.” “No,” the bartender said, looking a bit flustered.

Who in their right mind wouldn’t be flustered when faced with two gorgeous women demanding his attention like that? Somehow, for that split second, he envied the bartender.

“Can’t you see? I’m not a twenty-year-old kid,” the woman whined.

Obviously, this must have had something to do with fake IDs. Kids these days wanted to drink alcohol way before their time. Even though he considered himself a kid still, he was way over twenty-one and looked well over twenty-five, so there was no need for a fake ID there.

“Don’t show me that face,” the girl yelled at the bartender. “You want to see my ID? Fine, I’ll show you my ID.”

The scene playing out before him was starting to become humorous, and Ryan couldn’t help but continue to tune in as the drama unfolded before him. It wasn’t every day he got to see a beautiful young girl, looking not a minute older than nineteen, claiming to be thirty just so she could get a sip of alcohol into that gorgeous body of hers.

Ryan chuckled and shook his head. He could only recall one other time when his life was this amusing. It happened about a week ago, when a girl gave him a bouquet of roses the day before Valentine’s Day and then ran off after yanking his towel, exposing his naked state.

He could still remember standing there, butt naked and all, gazing at her as she scrambled away in fright, oblivious to the sound of whatshername, the girl he’d just had sex with, screaming loudly, making threatening remarks about wanting to kill that girl if she were to see her again.

He could still remember the exact image of her black hair fluttering about in the breeze, tossing, turning, and gliding through the hands of the wind. He so damn wanted to be the wind that day, to feel those strands through his fingers, to see if they were really soft to the touch. He was mesmerized by that beautiful girl, at the nerve she imparted upon him when she dared tear off his towel and at the fading image of her escape. At that moment he was tempted to follow her.

Dear Lord, he would have definitely followed her if he weren’t butt naked. He would have run after her and made love to her right there against the next available tree. But goddamn if it weren’t for his neighbor Macy, always hanging about on her front porch, looking to catch a glimpse of him with his next woman, then he would have been off after her already.

Hearing ruffling, his eyes danced back to the scene in front of him. He watched as the girl rummaged through her bag but could not produce anything.

“Miss, I can’t serve you alcohol if you don’t have ID with you,” the bartender rephrased.

“I have it in here somewhere,” she grumbled while she continued searching for her card, her shoulders slumping in disappointment. Then she turned to the other girl he assumed to be her friend, who was dressed all in black, like a goth, complete with coke bottle glasses.

“Go get Julia. I think I left my wallet in her bag,” she instructed.

The friend looked reluctant to leave for a minute, but then she was off to the other side of the club, disappearing into the crowd. Now the girl was all alone, but she still continued to stare at the bartender like she was on death row.

At this point, Ryan couldn’t help himself. Being a Casanova, he just needed to ruffle her feathers a bit and rescue her from her moment of distress. This girl definitely needed some lifting up, and he made sure he was the first one to offer her that service.

Ryan couldn’t help but marvel at her long hair that shone brightly under the many colorful disco lights. She was of petite frame, perching on the stool, her legs dangling like a little kid’s. Definitely my cup of tea, Ryan thought.

Not wanting to prolong the wait any longer, Ryan inched himself closer to her, his stool now very near. And while she was so consumed with her conversation with the bartender, he took action.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he whispered into her ear.

As if heaven had opened up, she turned her head and God help him, but his mouth almost hung open for a full minute. It was that exact same girl who had made that confession to him just last week, the same girl he couldn’t get out of his head.

No way could he have mistaken her. Those same pupils shone a molten black. Those same cheeks, just like that day, were scarlet in color, but this time it wasn’t from the embarrassment over his lack of dress, but instead, they were puffed out in anger due to the argument with the bartender.

This beauty sure was a sight to behold. She was hot and heavy and, hopefully by tonight, ready for him—once he’d worked his seductive charm on her, of course.

“You!” she said, her cheeks blazing under the rainbow-colored lights.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the sweetheart who confessed to me last week,” he drawled out seductively. “Did you enjoy the view before you ran off like the devil was on your tail?”