A Glimpse of the Dark Side: Adult Paranormal Erotic Romance Collection (22 page)

Many of the other tables had such feminine
groups. But not at her table.

In fact, there was actually a noticeable circle
of emptiness in her vicinity, as if most people were unconsciously
avoiding her. She was out of place here. But, that didn't explain
the emptiness.

It must be an energy thing, a vibe thing,
he thought.

Something was off with her. She appeared to be
dazed, or perhaps more dazzled than dazed. It was as if she was
overwhelmed with her surroundings and choices or inundated with her
sensations and reactions to her new surroundings and all the
new-to-her people.

Ralph tilted his head in scrutiny as he circled
around her on the outskirts of the room, observing her and getting
his bearings. At one time, he glanced up at a flashing light bulb
near above her. It stopped its flickering then grew extremely
bright before it failed completely, darkening the area below
it.

He spoke briefly with a passing friend while
still watching her over that friend's shoulder. She was clearly
new, he could tell by something in the way she studied all about
her. But, mostly, by the preening cocks approaching her, over and
over, as she shot each one down, again and again.

She was picky. He liked that.

This Brunette was impossibly attractive and sexy
in a possibly game yet vulnerable way, like a rare flower all
alone, but blooming in its full color and beauty in the middle of a
field of dingy cinders. He felt that and it never occurred to him
that he also glanced up again, at the failed light above her, as
she once again did a thing she repeated a few times - gazed
intently around her and through the crowd, even standing once or
twice, looking for someone.

He ducked from her possible view every time. He
wasn't ready for her yet, he wasn't yet ready to make his approach
to her.

All he knew, all he felt certain of was that he
desired to see more of her. As Ralph circled around and got closer
to this lovely black-haired girl who looked bored now with the cock
pickings available around her, he briefly took a few deep breaths.
He then half-closed his eyes, felt inward, reached with feeling. He
asked his inner self, his god-hell, he couldn't say what. He only
knew he'd normally receive something that he felt was an
answer.

Can I truly please this woman?

Something within him stirred of its own accord
in answer, and like two tightly coiled snakes entwined around each
other; that something within him relaxed. And he felt at ease, as
if he'd already accomplished meeting her, making her welcome him,
and...

He wet his suddenly dry lips.

Having her. He wanted that. To have her.

But, there was something...?

It made him tilt his head, as if not believing
what he saw. There was the old odd feeling, and he frowned deeply.
His puckered brow became a deep scowl fed by perplexity, until a
look of surprise chased the confusion away.

He knew.

Just knew.?

"AHH," HE GASPED, looked away a long while with
what the many others periodically watching would say was disgust,
disappointment, or out and out failure on his face.

He was taking several deep breaths. Then he
focused, again, on another questing feeling within him that he
hadn't felt for a long time, a feeling he'd pretty much forgotten
on purpose. It was an overwhelmingly powerful feeling that was too
disconcerting, too exhausting, and too damn intimate to connect
with. But, he did now.

His gift. He frowned and felt it stirring like a
sleeping dog-no-a diamond-scaled dragon beyond his control, its
breath already warming to...

It was something he didn't want to wake.

Then she moved to look with a hopeful searching
gaze through the crowd again, like she'd lost sight of someone and
sought to search them out. As he stood behind others and out of her
direct sight, he felt it.

Something is wrong with her. I don't need
that ... something extra she has.

He spun on his heel and circled, out of her
view, back to the bar and Barry.

"Matt, Tim, and Leonard all tried her. I'm three
hundred dollars richer tonight," Barry bragged. "I think Scott's
running over, and Cadiz, too."

"Really? Those guys are
almost
the best,"
Ralph responded in old reflex because he knew a little ego, a
little mild bragging was expected of him.

Barry didn't even notice Ralph's mechanical
tone, because the bartender was chuckling and waving his three
hundred dollars of new winnings in Ralph's face.

"You gonna try her, King Ralph?"

Ralph glanced back and a part of him, a strong
part wanted her.

"Double or nothing?" Ralph casually offered,
mildly interested in a new challenge with someone fresh to these
waters. Then, he inwardly flinched, remembering his last
significant two insightful thoughts about her:

Something is wrong with her. I don't need
that ... something extra she has.

"Deal," Barry eagerly replied, "But, if the
three stooges didn't make a homerun, I doubt you will. Then again,
Scott and Cadiz both have that exotic and intriguing accents thing
going for them. Both are working late, maybe another hour...?"

Fuck.
Now his rep was on the line.
Okay. In and out, quick. You take the girl and leave her ...
"something" the hell alone
.

He glanced, again, at the girl with her
remarkable combination of intertwined streaks of boldness,
aloofness, and vulnerability, then at Barry.

"Like I said Barry, almost best," Ralph
answered; then changed position at the bar, to observe her further
from a distance, reading her and trying to work the approach that
would win him the bet.

Minutes later, his eyebrows were bunched up,
like he didn't like what he was seeing. Or couldn't figure her or
his approach out. Barry grinned at Ralph with this wary look on his
face, while watching him in a work lull. Ralph looked his way.

"What?"

"You want to pass, King Ralph?"

Ralph slapped the bar before strolling to where
the black-haired girl sat.

Barry and about a quarter of the other
unattached club men perked up and refocused in anticipation,
knowing that The Game had just started. But, would it be "Ralph
wins and the crowd goes wild"? Or would the long absent King Ralph
be deposed?

They studied his every move, watching Ralph in
full cold call mode, first breaking the ice, and then talking to
this Brunette stunner, who'd already shot most of them down without
a smile, or the least show of true interest. A few would testify
that she'd been fucking cruel about it.

Most were so involved with watching Ralph, only
a few-mostly the women-noticed that the Brunette looked surprised
when she saw him approached, maybe even blushed, before icing over
to make the King of Heavenly Heron work for it. For her.

Because she was worth it.

There was laughter. Most didn't hear it because
the club was noisy but now, for the first time all night, they
actually saw her laugh and then invite Ralph to sit with her. If
the place hadn't been so damn crowded, everyone would've heard at
least half the men groan.

Worse of all, Ralph looked like he was already
having a great time and the hot new girl seemed happy, smiling
sincerely and leaning in towards him.

And then, eventually, they all sensed
it-something was off between her and Ralph.

While the woman was smiling and talking, and
even leaning in like she was really into Ralph. But she was
constantly shaking her head, her lips forming the word "no." Mixed
signals for certain-and that usually meant disaster. Ralph didn't
normally get mixed signals from a girl. Maybe this girl was the
king's Achilles' Heel.

Bets were flying, fast and hard. Even some of
the women were throwing in.

All bets screeched to a stunned halt when two
minutes later, Ralph abruptly stood and broke off his conversation
with the girl. He excused himself from her and headed directly back
to the bar. With an expression of confusion directed at Barry, he
reached for his wallet.

"Payday! There's always a first time, man,"
Barry sarcastically consoled Ralph as he held out his palm with his
fingers doing that "gimme, gimme" gesture to collect.

Ralph paid him without a word. The devastated
young king of the club was, deep inside himself, seriously dazed
that he hadn't even bothered to reply with a suitable snide
retort.

He looked like an archaeologist who'd uncovered
the greatest of the lost secrets of the ancients, but hadn't a clue
how to make sense of it.

Amazement unfulfilled.

For the first time, Ralph was confronted with a
surprising, unreadable truth he could not control. How's that for
fresh??

RALPH'S ZOMBIE-LIKE steps had returned him to
his usual spot at the bar to drink alone. As he sat, he kept his
gaze fixed on the dark-haired girl, the one he'd just walked away
from.

But the moment he shook his head and turned away
to face back to the sturdiness of the bar, the perplexing Brunette
stood and left her table.

"Do you have a room!" she leaned over to shout
above the thumping music and people noise at Barry who was behind
the bar counter.

Ralph reacted, having not seen her not until she
was an inch behind him and yelling over his shoulder. He could feel
her and smell the pleasantly mixed scents of her shampoo and body
wash, and her smell of alluring warmth.

"Bathroom?" Barry queried, and pointed
across.

"No. A room with some privacy, for a while?"

Barry looked astonished and annoyed and one hand
patted his winnings hidden in his pocket, as if making certain they
were still there, as if he was silently saying:
There, there,
I'll not let you go.

Once more, the people who knew The Game
froze.

It clearly was the most intriguing thing that
had happened since the game started nearly three years before, when
Ralph had first arrived.

Like an automaton, Barry jerked his other thumb
in the other direction and around the corner to a door just to the
side of the bar, where all the liquor, beer, and soft drinks were
stocked.

Ralph was acutely aware of her warm presence. He
couldn't figure her out and was, for the first time, uncertain of
anyone.

That had never happened to him.

She grabbed the bewildered Ralph by the arm,
spinning him around as she dragged him behind her and inside the
back room, and slammed the door.

ALL THE "GAMERS" and betters and wannabe players
kept an eye on that side door marked private, until the girl
reappeared a little over ten minutes later, every hair in place but
smoothing her dress over her curves and strolled back towards her
table like nothing happened.

"She's flushed, right? Or blushing, maybe?" a
voice or two ventured, as all waited for...

...Ralph, who emerged shortly after that with
confusion carved deeply into the stressed and strained expression
on his face, his hair askew. His clothes were a bit disheveled,
too. And, his belt was undone, for one thing; leaving no question
about what happened.

Right?

Everyone's face screwed up and shoulders
shrugged, because the gamers and betters didn't have an ironclad,
clear decision. Their reigning king reseated himself on his
customary stool and continued to drink.

Hmm. He looked like he'd just been turned
down.

Everyone was confused. Ralph most among them,
evidently. For many minutes he just sat and stared at his beer
bottle intently. Although his attitude was intriguing, no one
bothered him, not even Barry.

Heads swiveled from Ralph to the girl and
back.

Rejection,
Barry supposed,
could
damage even the sturdiest of all constitutions. Ralph got shot
down, right?

Ralph had obviously gotten the girl, but he'd
also been rejected earlier, and a homerun-a full goal taken-was
required to win. Barry subconsciously gave his winnings another
nervous pat. There were bets in limbo all over that club.

Suddenly, the dark-haired girl-Ralph's Brunette
or, well, she was really proving not to be
his
- she walked
towards Ralph once more and leaned to whisper intimately in his
ear. One word unheard by all, except him.

"Come."

Their King Ralph stood, like someone in a
trance. He didn't look around, just headed straight for the door,
the girl dragging him by the hand behind her, like a cotton-brained
teddy bear.

Barry cursed, "Fuck!"

Someone shouted, "Hey! Did I win the bet?"

What was the bet, anymore?

For Ralph, it'd always been getting countless
women to dance and sing out their song but at his own measured
rhythm and masterful tempo, to cum when Ralph wanted them to, as
they put themselves in his hands and, so to speak, as he also
relieved his masculine yearning for the female, before slipping out
to go his own way.

Alone.

Briefly coming together to cum together, making
each feel like he was part of them, even that they'd won because
she-whoever she was, briefly-had felt that with Ralph, she and he
were one. That she'd found The One.

But, she hadn't, because always, from Ralph's
view, there was a feeling of distinctness and of being apart. A
little beside himself. Out of body almost.

No, he never felt like he was The One. Or as
one, either.

No wonder he was bored to the core of his soul.
Indeed, what was winning??

CONTRARY TO WHAT his subjects would have
thought, their invincible King Ralph would find the next two weeks
passing in agonizing slow motion, like a snail gingerly trying to
cross razor blade edges. Well, that wasn't boring, because it was a
completely novel experience for him!