Bastian: A Secret Baby Romance Read Free Page A

pair of five-inch black stiletto heels that might as well have had "fuck me pumps" written on the inside instead of Manolo.
    Letting my hair hang in their natural loose curls, I didn't have to do too much to my face. I learned early that for women with my skin, a touch was all it took, and it was all too easy to apply too much. A hint of black eyeliner, and glossy red lipstick that I knew would look black under the club lights, and I was set. In defense against the cold, I grabbed a thigh-length leather field jacket, which when I zipped it up, looked like I was naked underneath.
    When Sarah met me two blocks from the club, her eyes practically popped out of her head. She was no slouch herself, after all, Eden catered to only the beautiful people. Five-foot-eight, with a tight bubble butt from years in volleyball, Sarah had the sort of athletic frame that I knew a lot of men liked when they were in for vigorous action. She looked like she could ride you all night long, and from what she told me, she could. Together, I knew we'd be able to score easily in the club.
    The line to get into Eden was already stretching around the block when we arrived at ten minutes after eleven, but the door guy, a muscular local MMA fighter named Diego, let me in. He was sweet to me, but not in a sexual way. Diego was gay, and I’d actually steered a guy over to him one night. Since then, he let me in the velvet rope entrance without any qualms. I guess he had a good night.
    Eden was full, but not overly packed. It didn't help the image for it to be too full, because there had to be room for all the patrons to mingle and find out their taste for the night. The coat check girl, perhaps the least attractive girl in the club at only a seven, took our jackets with a smile, giving me and Sarah our tickets. I tucked mine in my bra since I had no other place to put it, while Sarah actually had a tiny little pocket on the inside of her skirt that she was able to put her own ticket. I envied her, and reminded myself to do that next time. I'd lost two coats through misplaced tickets.
    The music was perfect for my mood, a blend of house, trance and light hip hop that was already coursing through my body. I tried to play it cool, though, Sarah and I both sliding up to the bar and ordering drinks. I went with a shot of Gotham Knight, an Eden specialty that had Kahlua under a layer of dark blue colored vodka. Sarah went a little lighter, opting for a cranberry martini. We sat back, checking out the club, knowing it was just a matter of time.
    Time wasn't long at all, really. By the time the next song finished, two guys approached us, one of them kind of my type. I figured that if I downed a couple more Gotham Knights, I could let my imagination take over. He said his name was Patrick and he worked for a bank. Downing my second drink, I really didn't give a shit, but when he asked me to hit the dance floor, I was more than willing. I've found that the better a guy could move on the dance floor, the better he was in bed. Not that I'd found anyone who could really keep up with me in either situation.
    The next song was a bit old, I'm not sure who allowed the DJ to drop in a song by the Pussycat Dolls that was from my high school days, but it really didn't matter. The remix was bass heavy and worked in just the right way that I could get my body moving. I saw Sarah leading the other guy, a relatively nice and safe-looking guy named Christian past us. We flashed each other a smile before I really got down to seeing what Patrick was made of.
    Sadly, it wasn't much. For all of his broad chest and swagger, he sucked as a dancer, trying to cop a feel and grinding on me constantly. About the third time he grabbed my ass, I backed off, turning around to head back to the bar. When the asshole grabbed my arm and spun me around, I felt a stab of fear in my chest. Patrick may not have been a great dancer, but the guy was strong, and easily double my bodyweight.
    "I'm not done