(I serious recommend all writers get an editor but Frontma is MINE, damn it and if you don't like it -- Thunder Dome!)
*Control is illusionary*
(Erotic Coupling)
(Please note that the story starts out a bit awkward but it does get rolling. You may assume that Echo does not date -- AT ALL; before meeting our hero. That may help you make sense of some of her actions. Also, as explained later, Dominic is, in fact, a FREAKING genius-savant, but not in a way that helps him with women)
*
I'd never really been wealthy until I graduated college, but I'd been close to it. At nine, I had been given a scholarship to an exclusive prep school and that had opened doors into higher education. By the time I got my Master's in International Finance, I'd networked myself into a really sweet job way ahead of schedule. I had the nice apartment overlooking the city, the prerequisite sports car, and the healthy bank account. I thought I was the master of my own fate--foolish me.
I am at LA's Castro Club on a Friday night with several of my co-workers and their dates when my GF Stephanie and I have a huge throw-down and part ways for the evening. After she took off in a huff and I'm sitting back watching some of my friends dance, this smallish, attractive brunette tugs on my sleeve.
"Hey, handsome, would you like to dance?" she smiles. She's older, nice looking, and Stephanie has split up with me over some bit of drama for the night, maybe forever-- just like last weekend.
"Sure," I respond happily. She grabs my hand and yanks me through the crowd at the edge of the dance floor, but not onto it.
In short order she brings me up to a table where there are several females sitting, including a beautiful, black-haired, dark-skinned, statuesque woman giving the world a frosty glare.
"Hey ..." the brunette starts to say.
"Dominic Umstead," I fill in.
"Dominic, this is Echo Ashaz and she needs a dance partner," the woman tells me. I find that hard to believe; she's freaking gorgeous. She's as tall as I am-- taller with those heels. She's clearly of Middle Eastern descent with almond eyes and curves that just won't quit. I'm suddenly glad Steph and I had that fight.
"Echo, care to dance?" I say, playing my role. Echo looks at me like I'm some piece of filth she'd like to scrape off her shoe. Before I can back the fuck out of this situation, her friend grabs Echo's hand and shoves us together.
Echo seems to consider her options before grabbing my hand in a strong grip and dragging me to the dance floor. When we get to a good spot, she turns around and burns a hole through me with her eyes.
"Touch me and I'll break your hand," she seethes. I look shocked. Defying her, I put my hand on the small of her back and start shoving her back to the sidelines.
"What?" she snarls.
"I've got better things to do than dance with a frosty, stuck-up bitch like you ... Echo," I snap back.
"It didn't take you long to figure out you weren't getting any tonight," she scoffs.
"Wrong. It didn't take me long to figure out that I didn't want you. There is a difference," I counter. She stops me from pulling her off the floor.
"Listen, if I don't dance with you, my friends will keep dragging guys over to the table. Since you are probably gay I guess it is safe to dance with you. Please stay," she adds with resentment.
"If it means I don't have to see you the rest of the night, then okay," I relent. We get back into the crowd and start dancing. In no time, the crowd presses us together, causing us to start brushing our bodies occasionally. Echo makes an effort to look away when this happens but I sense she's getting into it. The song ends and Echo looks at me, waiting for me to make the next move.
"Do you have anything else lined up for tonight?" I shout into her ear over the noise. She shakes her head reluctantly, looks to the table her friends are at, then looks back to me. The next song picks up and we start dancing again. On the following song I get her to dance facing away from me for part of it. The next one saw her grinding against me for a few furtive moments. Once she lets down her guard, Echo turns out to be a whole lot of fun.
Thirty minutes later, we come out of the crowd, breathing heavily and winding our way over to her girlfriends. Echo is holding my hand and smiling at me while her friends seem mildly stunned to see us still together and me intact.
"It's okay," Echo jokes, "he's gay." With the way she rubbed against me, she knows that's a lie.
"Ha!" I snort. "Echo, ladies, this has been fun, but sadly I have to catch up with my friends. Take care." I go looking for my buddies and we decide to get a late-night bite to eat.
I'm almost at the door when Echo comes up and grabs my arm.
"Thanks, you saved my night," she says quietly before pressing a coaster with her number into my hand. I look at it before following her ass as it moves further into the bar. Of course, I already have a girlfriend (sort of) so I'm not looking for any extra complications in my life.
THE FOLLOWING WEEKEND
Jay and Scott (two of my colleagues) walk into the club with me, dressed for a night on the town and waiting on our respective ladies. I haven't taken twenty steps in when Echo appears before me and she looks unhappy.
"You didn't call," she points out.
"My girlfriend and I made up, Echo. It is good to see you, even so," I add as I try to rejoin my friends.
"Maybe we can dance later," she suggests. I stop and take her in. She's tall, athletic, and highly attractive, but her hands are worn and her nails are short from physical labor.
Also, she's in the same dress she was in last Friday, meaning she's probably some middle-class consumer living above her means; this is a high-end club.