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|GOD ON THE TONGUE (standard:other, 1663 words)|
|Author: Jenkis||Added: Sep 12 2000||Views/Reads: 3163/1411||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A strange teenage girl enters the scene inside a dark, underground rave to change the course of your life forever...|
You’re in a trance-blasting, fluorescently lighted underground rave taking place inside what appears to be an old warehouse. You’ve been here before. This warehouse and its owners serve as the host for many underground parties and raves that have become so popular since the early 1980’s. And today is no exception. The music fills the air with an ethereal almost unreal feel and the smoke machines with the lights make it an almost hallucinatory view. Now you see a young woman entering; her glossy blue eyes reflecting the dancing Club Kids with their multicolored glow-sticks. She shivers with pure ecstasy as the sweet vibrant sounds of the music overwhelm and overtake her. Her black hair is brushed down, the tips reaching her shoulders, the long bangs split down the middle and sometimes shrouding her eyes as her hands are stuck deep within the pockets of her black, tight leather jacket. She stops a minute in front of you and you catch a glimpse of a smug, sideways grin on her lush pouty lips before she nods and continues her way to two seats beside you at the bar. She leans over, her small curvy frame making her seem the more child-like, and she motions for the bartender to come. “Yeah?” Daniel, the bartender with the brown-gold hair and the black-outlined bronze eyes looks at her with interest so that you can see she’s never been here before. “Some red wine,” she says, “. . . And some vanilla ice cream, if you have any,” she adds with a speck of a smile. “Sure,” Daniel sort of frowns before going to get it. You wonder about her. She seems out of place here, all clad in black leather and looking no older than fourteen to sixteen years of age. She must have been barely five feet and one inch tall. Nothing like the other kids clad in colorful garb and stoned out of their young minds. Clearly level-headed, she reaches into the pocket of her jacket once more and takes out a pack of clove cigarettes and then a silver/black/burgundy fancy lighter. She lights her cigarette with detached familiarity and sucks in the smoke with no apparent emotion as she turns and scans the crowd with cold eyes. “Excuse me, Miss?” Daniel has placed the order before her and she turns to him and smiles. “Oh. Of course. Thank you,” she says, “How much?” brows shoot up, making her seem almost like a child as she starts reaching into the back pocket of her black leather pants. “Oh, nothing. Call it a welcome gift for firstcomers,” Daniel charmingly smiles, “Next time I’ll charge, though,” he winks at her. “I don’t think the owner of this place will appreciate that,” she says but has already started to pour the wine on the ice cream. You watch her, fascinated with the way she speaks, the way she moves, everything. She savors the ice cream as it reaches her mouth with a slight closing of the eyes and you can almost taste it as she licks her lips with utter and unconscious pleasure. “Nah. Don't worry about it, baby doll,” Daniel smiles proudly, “I am the owner.” “Oh,” she stops eating and looks up at him, “You are?” “Yeah. I know, I look too young. I mean, I’m only 26. But this is sort of a family business,” Daniel says and you roll your eyes because any time now he will start talking about how his grandfather had purchased this warehouse and turned it into a bar when drinking had become illegal in New Orleans, in the 1910’s. Daniel’s Grandpa. The Big Hero. Big Bullshit. You could almost swear that his dad probably bought this somewhere between the 1960's or 70's. “I bet,” the girl says, and goes back to eating her unusual combiantion of red wine and vanilla ice cream, “So your name must be Christian DeFiore,” she casually adds. “Uh, no,” Daniel almost stammers, “That is my brother. He owns the club as well,” he explains. You are sure that if there was more light you could see him blush. “Where is he?” she asks, “I came here to see him.” “Do you know him?” Daniel frowns at her. “Not exactly,” she looks up with a seductive, sideways smile, the child-like voice making you want to lean over and kiss her throat, “But I’ve heard of him.” “From whom?” Daniel’s frown is now deeper. “I’ve got friends. He’s got friends,” she simply answers. “Anyone sent you?” Daniel says, but the frown has disappeared. “No one sends me to do anything,” the girl states, “I do the things I do on my own.” And just taking a look at her, you completely believe her. “All right,” Daniel says, “He’s upstairs. The second room to your right.” The girl nods, but decides to finish up her ice cream before proceeding with what she has to do. “By the way,” Daniel comes back, “What’s your name?” “Don’t worry about it. You’ll find out in time,” she smiles at him and goes back to her ice cream. You decide to follow her when she’s done, so you get up and proceed to wait by stairs until she goes up. Approximately five minutes after you’ve waited patiently, you see her get up and start walking toward the stairs. You hide well, hoping that those eyes don’t land on you. You have a vague sense of questioning your actions but are right now too enraptured with watching her walk up the stairs with confident, almost cocky steps *the tight leather encircling her hips and buttocks Click here to read the rest of this story (62 more lines)
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