Body and Soul

Body  and Soul

Status: Finished

Genre: Fantasy

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Fantasy

Summary

One wanted my body, other my soul.

Summary

One wanted my body, other my soul.

Chapter1 (v.1) - Body and Soul

Author Chapter Note

One wanted my body, other my soul.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: August 03, 2015

Reads: 1875

Comments: 4

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: August 03, 2015

A A A

A A A

Body and Soul

I feel someone watching me under the continuously color-changing lights. I look around and almost collide into a man dressed in black. The tray slips from my hands and empty wine glasses crash to the ground. I’d have to pay for that. Tracy is not going to be pleased.

“Sorry,” I mutter, looking at him. My high heels have made me as tall as him. He regards me coolly. His ice blue eyes are void of any emotion. Jet black, messy hair falls into his eyes. He shrugs, “Whatever.”

Tracy walks to me, hands on her hips. Her face is red with anger. “Clean this up, now!” she orders. I try not to feel humiliated as I bend down and gather the glass shards with my hands. The man still hasn’t moved. His black boots are also covered by broken glass. I don’t want to touch them. But I can feel Jessica’s eyes boring holes into my skull. I know I wouldn’t be spared. I collect all of the glass quickly and put it in the tray. I feel a sharp pain as my hand is cut. I gasp.

Suddenly, the man kneels down and takes my hand in his hands. He inspects the cut with an expertise that could only be associated with a doctor. I watch, mesmerized as his long fingers turn my hand over. The things those fingers could do… I blush at the direction of my own thoughts. I’ve never wanted a man like that since… well, ever. I was practically a nun. The corner of his lips turns up and his eyes find mine. The blue is melting a little-becoming darker, richer. It must be the lights.  He looks amused, as if he can hear my thoughts. What a stupid idea! He gazes down again. I wince as he squeezes the cut. I feel weak as drops of blood trickle down my wrist. If I were standing, I would surely fall.

“I had to make sure no glass was in there.” He says.

“Are you a doctor?” His mouth twists a little, as if he’s enjoying an inside joke.

“Yes.”

I wonder vaguely what a doctor is doing in a bourgeois place like this.  He stands up and turns to Tracy, taking out his wallet. “What happened was my fault, not hers. How much did those glasses cost?”

Tracy opens her blood red lips and utters a number, eyeing the man up and down. I’m sure she’s picturing him naked. The woman has no sense of modesty. She’d do him in the bathroom if she could. Not that I wouldn’t do him. The dirty thought makes me blush. My gaze travels up the length of his body. Even clad in black jeans and a simple T-shirt, his body muscles are noticeable. He hands Tracy some cash- very few people carry that nowadays. She touches his fingers deliberately while taking the money. He turns quickly afterwards to face me. I realize, red-faced, that I am still sitting on the floor, looking up at him. I try to stand quickly but feel disoriented. It’s as if all the energy has been drained out of my body.  I fall –expecting the tiled floor to meet my face- but instead the side of my face hits a hard chest as cold, strong arms surround me.

“Easy,” he says softly. I am beyond embarrassed, flushed and breathing fast. I’m sure the reason he feels so cold is because I’m so hot. I’ve made a fool of myself in front of this man twice now. I feel his heartbeat, slow and steady, under my hands pressed against his chest. I stare at his throat. He swallows and somehow the movement of his Adam’s apple makes me even hotter-in a good sense this time.

Tracy clears her throat and I step out of his arms which are reluctant to let me go. “The man at Table 21 is asking to be served Jack Daniels-specifically by you. Don’t break anything this time.” Her tone is hard. Shit. I take a few calming breaths and look up at him. His gaze is focused on something behind me. His whole demeanor shifts. His muscles tense, as if coiled to spring. His jaw tightens. His eyes are ice blue again. How is that possible? He looks pissed. I slowly make my way towards Andrew-the bartender. His gaze flips to mine and I’m scared, really scared of the hostility in his eyes. He snarls and turns, rushing out of the club.

What. The. Hell ?

I don’t understand his reaction. He was holding me so gently a minute ago. And now he wanted to look like he could kill me. I shake my head and pour the wine in new glasses. I still feel weak and more importantly-down- so I ask Andrew if he has those candies he always keeps stashed somewhere. He’s a sugar addict. He hands me some and I slip a piece in my mouth, putting the rest in my pocket. I take the tray and unhurriedly, cautiously make my way through the people towards Table 21. My feet ache. I wish I could sue the club owner for making high heels compulsory for waitresses. It is inhumane! I feel someone watching me again. It’s a weird sense of mine-but I can always tell if someone is staring at me. I stop and whip my head around, searching for the gazer while carefully clutching the tray in my shaking hands.  I see people dancing on the other side of the glass wall. I find no one but the prickling sensation on my neck continues. I stop searching and reach the Table 21-only to find it vacant. Cursing under my breath, I’m about to turn when I notice a note on the round table.  Curious, I pick it up.

Your body looks so eatable tonight. I’m famished. Wait for me.

I gasp. This is something a psycho-killer would write. Or a rapist. Or both. I feel a chill run down my spine. There’ve been numerous victims-mostly women- who’ve been raped and brutally murdered in Seattle-their bodies disfigured beyond recognition. The criminals can never be caught. This means I’m in danger.  


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