Camila
The NIGHT STALKER CLUB is grandiloquent in red neon bold letters—it’s blindingly bright as to obscure my vision.
The club is best known for elites and celebrities, but my cousin has the luck to work as one of the bartenders. I’m glad to hear the news of re-opening after the last month’s incident. It means my cousin is back in his work.
Bianca presents our ID to one of the bouncers who looks huge and intimidating. He gives me a second look after glancing back to our ID on his hand. I may look younger than my age but I’m already twenty one and I just got my college degree.
The bass frequencies from the huge sound systems reverberate through my chest cavity. My eyes widen in amazement to see the virtual music playing on the 3D walls. Laser lights flash patterns to the dance floor, and it simultaneously changes colors to the beat of the music. Pretty awesome, I must say.
The DJ plays one of the most popular hit songs on the chart. People yell in excitement, hands raising in the air as they move like in slow motion.
Bianca and Megan drag me to the crowded dance floor. The smell of sweat, perfumes, and booze don’t stop me from swaying my hips as I watch my friends are also dancing with me.
I grin and close my eyes. It feels good to get lost in the music thumping through the speakers. The beat of the music starts pulsating my body as I follow the rhythm.
We dance for I don’t know how long until I am sweaty and slick. My breathing catches and my heart thumping wildly in my chest.
Bianca says something that I can’t make out any words.
“What?” I yell.
We bark into laughter when we clearly can’t understand one another. We get ourselves out of the dance floor, even so, the music is still loud for us to start chatting.
“I need a drink!” Megan yells to my ear.
I nod in agreement, yelling back, “I need a restroom!”
She leans her face closer, pointing to the empty table at the left corner of the bar. “We’ll be there.”
I nod then walk away, trying to find the ladies room. I groan inwardly as I see the line of women waiting outside the ladies room is longer than customers waiting on a sale.
My shoulders sag as I walk away until a strong hand grabs me on my arm. I yelp in surprise, hand flies over my chest.
A pair of brown eyes narrowing down at me. His fake blond hair is jelled up to look like a Mohawk.
“What the hell are you doing in here, Cam?” my cousin, Kyland asks.
“Why do people go to the nightclubs, Kill?” I bark sarcastically.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re coming?” he asks, though he knows already the answer. His pierced brows meet, clearly not happy to see me here.
His mom raised us together. He’s like a brother to me. I don’t want an hour of his lecture on why I come tonight though, that’s why I did not tell him.
“As if you will allow me.” I pouted.
“It’s Saturday night and it’s too loud and crowded for you,” he says as if I haven’t noticed.
“I do have eyes, and the last time I checked my auditory nerves are just perfectly fine.”
Kyland groans, clenching his jaw. Seconds later he sighs in defeat. “Where are your friends?”
I know it’s too late for him to do anything. We’re already here, and he happens to like my friends.
“They found a table.”
He nods glumly, looking at the long line of women. “Do you need a restroom?”
“Yup.”
“Come with me.” He grabbed my wrist. Kyland is a perfect cousin though he’s overprotective and annoying sometimes.
I follow him, then he fishes out the keys from his pocket as we stop in front of the door with ‘for employees use only’ sign at an eye level.
“I have to go back to work. Get back to your friends once you’re done and lock the door after you, okay?” He inspects me from head to toe, shaking his head, then walks away without a single word.
I know he’s going to berate me for what I wear tonight. I’ll think about what to answer later, or I might shut my mouth up for the rest of his talk.
I get inside the restroom, uttering thank you. This is a hundred times cleaner than the public restroom that I’m going to use if Kyland didn’t see me.
Once I’m done with my deeds, I pat my hands dry with a paper towel while taking a look at myself in the mirror. I re-coat my lips with the red lipstick I have on my purse and run my fingers through my wavy chocolate brown hair.
Closing the door behind me with a sigh of satisfaction, I walk away.
“Harder!” A voice of a woman makes me to a standstill.
My brow rises.
“Oh God, faster!”
“Fuck!” A rich masculine voice with a hint of roughness grunts. His single word gives me shiver, and something in me awakens at that tone.
I scan the narrow hallway—a dark wooden door is just a few steps away from me.
“Oh God, more! Harder!” the woman yells in between pants. “Make me come.”
The man groans in response.
What am I doing?
Why am I even listening to them having sex? I’m not that naive not to figure out what they’re doing. I blink repeatedly and pretend as if I am not hearing them. I shake the thought out of my head, walking away when that door bangs, making me jump in surprise. A squeal escapes my mouth.
Thump.
Thump.
“Yes, yes! I’m coming. I’m coming!” the woman screams, even louder than before.
The thumping continues.
For God’s sake, Cam! Why are you still standing here?
“Fuck!” His voice dips low with a slow drawl. A voice that draws me in even more.
What’s wrong with me? I shake my head annoyingly.
“Come, Tiffany!” the man commands with a growl.
“It’s Brittany!” she corrects him, sounding annoyed.
Heat flushes through my body with anger. What an asshole? Doesn’t he even know her name?
“Sorry. I mean Brittany,” the man apologizes quickly.
I roll my eyes. I startle when the door thuds again—it rattles and might lose from its hinges.
Another thump.
“Oh, yes, Pyke!”
Pyke?
