Free In Dreams by Erica Orloff

bounces off the walls and the ceilings. A DJ, headphones to his ears, is perched above the crowd in a glass booth, with a huge red omega sign in fluorescent lights above him. Rich red velvet curtains hang from the walls and create private seating areas, making it impossible to look across the entire club. I feel claustrophobic, fenced in by velvet and body heat. A smoke machine has filled the place with gray mist. I reach out my hands, and my fingers disappear in the smoke. I can’t see the floor.
Around me, people are gyrating and dancing to the bass. They are dressed in New York chic, black hipster clothes. One is more beautiful and good-looking than the next. They give off energy; the place seems to vibrate. It’s also burning hot. I feel a breath on my neck and wheel around, startled.
Sebastian smiles.
“Miss me, Iris?” He leans in close and has to shout over the music.
I nod. But my feet feel frozen. I don’t know what to say around him.
He stares at me. Then, slowly, he takes my hands, and we start dancing. I like the feel of my hand in his. His are strong and masculine. For some reason, I think of a sculptor’s hands. Slightly rough, but powerful. Around us are so many other clubgoers that we’re pressed together.
My heart pounds, only now it’s not the rhythm making it thump, it’s him. I rock to the beat—my song—and start to forget that anyone else is around us. To be dancing with him, to this song, feels amazing. We look into each other’s eyes. I see forever there.
He leans down and pulls me closer still. My chest is pressed against his. It’s only now I realize I’m wearing a black tank top, with just a hint of the lace of my favorite Victoria’s Secret bra peeking out, and black skinny jeans, and I’m perched on some kick-ass heels. I feel sexy. He has on a black T-shirt that hugs him perfectly, and dark pants. The club is suffocating, and strands of my hair press against my cheeks; still my favorite song is playing and taking me somewhere higher, someplace I have never been before.
He takes his hands from mine and moves them to the sides of my throat, gently. I’m not afraid. He moves his hands into my hair, then pulls the curls up off my face and away from the back of my neck. He leans down even closer, while still dancing, and blows softly on my neck where it’s wet from the heat and dancing.
I shiver. I think I’m going to have a heart attack.
With my face in his hands, he looks me in the eyes, so far into me, I’m afraid my knees will buckle under me. Then, gently, he kisses my lips, so softly it’s almost a breath at first. Then he nibbles, the slightest of tugs, on my lower lip. This kiss is like no other. I don’t even know if we are dancing anymore, because all I feel is his chest pressed against me; all I hear is the music so loud in my ears, mingling with my heartbeat.
I kiss him back, my tongue flicking against his. He pulls me tighter to him. I feel our bodies meld together. I wrap my arms around his waist and move my hands up his back, feeling his muscles. His hands slide down to my jeans. I am lost in this kiss, like sinking deeper under the ocean.
And then I hear a screech. It’s so high-pitched, I hear it above the music. He tenses, so I know he hears it, too.
Wrapping one arm around me, he lifts his head and scans the crowd. The thud-thud-thud of the music continues. I stand on tiptoe and peer over his shoulder, and I see we are surrounded by creatures. They seem human enough, but their faces look as if they’ve been rimmed with dark eyeliner, creating hollows and shadows beneath their eyes, which are iridescent black, like liquid mica.
The women are dressed like ravens, with flowing, shimmering black sleeves on their dresses, like wings, their hair sliced in sharp bobs. Three draw closer to us and bare their teeth behind wine-colored lipstick, exposing razor-sharp fangs.
“Vampires!” I scream.
Sebastian leans and kisses me again. He moves his mouth to my ear. “No.