Mark Fox always fucks this part up, but the way he feels for Aliona gives him hope he can get it right this time.
Just as this morning, I was taken aback at first with how tight Aliona’s gripping little pussy was. Now, with her tiny fingers joining mine inside, it was almost impossible to get more than the first half of my index finger into her despite how wet she was. Her pussy juice was running off my finger onto the back of my hand. She slowly took her fingers out and used her hands to grip tightly at her perfect, tiny, firm little ass with her elbows on the seat of my car, pushing her slender hips up further while her back slid down the seat so her shoulders were now flat against it as well. Her chin was against her chest, her teeth clenched, her eyes leaving mine and rolling back into her head. I was able now to get my finger all the way inside of her and her muscles were clenching down on me trying to pull me even deeper. Again I could read her lips, though I couldn’t hear her over the wall of bass coming from a trunk full of speakers, as she exaggerated the syllables of the words “fuck me, please fuck me”. Her shirt was pushed up from the angle of her torso and her tight midriff flexed and unflexed as she used her waist to bear her pelvis down onto my finger moving in and out of her. Her pure raw sexuality was almost unholy.
I didn’t think I could do this though. Not here. I wanted more than anything to lean the seat back and pull her over on top of me as she had been earlier today, but this time with my hard cock pushing into that unbelievably small opening so I could let her grind herself up and down in my lap. She wanted it, and though she had the tightest pussy I’d ever touched she was horny and wet enough that I knew she’d find a way to get me all the way inside of her. The entire point of taking her out tonight though was to do something else with her. Talk to her. Get to know her. Build on what I knew could be something awesome if only I didn’t fuck it up. Make no mistake; I wanted to fuck Aliona so bad that my dick was an uncomfortable rod in my pants straining to be released and inserted somewhere immediately…but like this? Here? No.
Still, I couldn’t resist kissing and licking her smooth tanned stomach, feeling the fine rippling muscles just beneath her fine perfect skin. I started to lick and kiss lower, moving my face down towards where my finger was still fucking her as she shifted her hips up and down at the waist. I licked just the top of her precious hairless mound and I felt her tense up even more. I looked sidelong as I licked again, a bit lower, with my tongue just barely parting the top of her tiny little pussy lips. I could see the tensing and untensing of her muscles was from her screaming but I still couldn’t hear her over the massive sound of the music. I was almost at the point of no return. No girl had ever made me feel like this; beyond thought. I pulled myself together somehow and leaned my body back upwards and slowly slid my finger from her, the inside of her pussy walls gripping and milking at me harder, trying to stop me. I removed my hand from under her ass and she did as well, letting herself come back down onto the seat. She looked into my eyes and started to shift and sit up. With her jeans around her knees and her thong around her midthighs she got onto all fours in the passenger seat with her petite little bottom pointing up and at the window. Facing me, she smiled her lurid smile and reached for the front of my pants to where my cock was bulging, nodding at me as she did so.
I reached out and held her wrist. She looked up at me confused and said something I couldn’t make out over the stereo. She tried again for the front of my pants, keeping her eyes on mine this time, and that stricken look crossed her face as I stopped her again. She lowered her skinny bare ass down onto her feet and said something else, looking either terrified or embarrassed. I slowly turned the volume down so I could hear her, catching on in midsentence.
“….that you like me Mark. What did I do wrong?” The corners of her mouth were turning downwards as she spoke and her arms and slender shoulders were shaking. The look in her beautiful and sensual green eyes broke my heart.
“We shouldn’t…” I started, and then cut me off.
“I don’t understand,” she said quietly, mortified as her shaking hands fumbled at her thong, trying to pull it back up, “what’s wrong with me?!”
She sat in the seat suddenly, arching her back and pulling her thong up the rest of the way. I saw the word ‘meow!’ embroidered on the tiny triangle of cloth that now covered her tiny little pussy, and then she jerked and pulled at her tight jeans, wiggling her hips side to side to get them up over her narrow hips. Without doing them up she fumbled at the handle while tears filled her eyes and stumbled out of the car without closing the door; one hand held out to her side as the other covered her mouth she ran across to the concrete rail of the top floor of the parking garage and put her elbows on it with her face in her hands. I could see her lithe back shaking and shuddering. I turned off the car and sat there for a moment, shaking my head at myself while she fumbled to close her pants and do up her belt. I wacked the steering wheel once with the butt of my right hand and then got slowly from the car. I went up behind her, putting my hands on her little shoulders, and tried to gently pull her back against me; she resisted, twisting one of her shoulders away from me. The sound of her sobbing crushed me even more. She inhaled and exhaled seemingly at random and I could hear the breaths being drug in and out through her tears. I moved and leaned against the rail beside her, looking nine floors down to the busy street below. When I looked over only a moment later tears were still flowing from her green eyes but the sobs that racked her little form were subsiding.
“What did I do, Mark?” she said, sniffling while her lower lip quivered and twitched with emotion, “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. What did I do wrong?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong Ali,” tears were starting to come to my eyes as well seeing her like this and I forced them back. I hadn’t cried in years. “I think I might have though, I told you I suck at this.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit,” she sobbed, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, “am I ugly? Am I bad at it? What? Please, tell me what I did, Mark.”
“You’re perfect,” I said, looking back down at the street far below, “and that’s exactly it, kitty.”
“Don’t call me that,” she said.
“I’m not lying,” I said, this time when I reached for her she let me place my hand on her back between the shoulders, “you’re perfect and that’s the problem.”
She turned and looked at me, tears still flowing and lip still shaking, and said in an accusing tone, “Do you even know how stupid that sounds?”
“Ali, everyone I’ve ever been with like this is just as fucked up as me. You’re not. I don’t want to make you one of those people.”
“I’m not one of those people Mark,” she said to me, her crying calming and her tears subsiding, “you don’t even know me.”
“Exactly,” I replied, rubbing my hand on her back, “I don’t even know you.”
“I thought you wanted to skip that part because ‘you always fuck it up’,” she said, the accusation still present in her tone and expression while she quoted me, “I’m trying to do what you want.”
“Yeah, I do. Fuck it up I mean,” I took my hand from her back and put it next to my other on the rail, looking up into the glittering glass skyline around us. It was the closest you could get to stars. “I think I know why now, though.”
“Oh? Did stupid Aliona help you figure that out?” she shot back, sobbing once as she said it. I grimaced and shrugged.
“No, but perfect and beautiful Aliona did,” I went on, “I fuck it up because I never actually do it. Me and whoever exchange fake ass facades essentially, and it’s all bullshit from the start. I don’t want that with you. I actually like you.”
“Who are these people in your life?” she asked as she placed one of her tiny shaking hands over mine and squeezing, her stricken look returning but this time in concern rather than embarrassment.
“You don’t want to know,” I said, “I hope you never do.”
She moved to me then and put her arms around me, hugging her little body hard against mine. I turned to face her and returned the embrace. The top of her head didn’t even come to my shoulders so I had to lean my head down to kiss the top of hers. Her hair smelled like delicate flowers and was silken soft against my cheek as I rested it atop her. She squeezed even harder and it felt so good, so real.
“I don’t think I’m very good at this part either,” she said as I felt her body move with another shaky breath and thick emotion returned to her voice, “look what I did to you. I’m really sorry Mark.”
Wait wait, I thought to myself, why is she comforting me? What the hell just happened here?
“Don’t be,” I said awkwardly, trying to pull back from her a bit “I’m the one who should be sorry.”
She didn’t let me go, she clung to me even tighter still. She swiveled her head around to look straight up into my eyes with her neck bent backwards and her chin on my chest. She shook her head at me and smiled through her tears and winked.
“Is our first fight going to be over who takes the blame?” she asked with a small laugh, her voice still shaky from crying, “that’s fucking stupid, man.”
I laughed as well and squeezed her. She was so small and firm against me. Even pressed together tightly I could barely feel her tiny little breasts, and her hard little hip bones pushed into me as she started swaying slightly back and forth. We held each other, rocking slowly in silence for what felt like an hour.
“I’ve never done any of this you know,” she said as she eventually released her grip around me and leaned her elbows back against the concrete railing. I leaned against it sideways on my left elbow close to her and resumed rubbing her back.
“Cried in a parking lot at night because some jerk upset you?” I joked.
“I’m serious,” she said, an intense look replacing the usual twinkle in her eyes. She looked down at the street below and her face turned inwards in thought, “I’ve never done any of this. I’ve never even french kissed a boy until you yesterday.”
My mind paused. I couldn’t fathom it. She couldn’t possibly be more different from me than she seemed at this exact moment. Or was that even true? It wasn’t easy, but if I tried hard enough I could remember when I was a clean slate as well. There’d been so many drugs, so much drinking, so many parties, so much meaningless sex grasped desperately in dark places between then and now that it felt like I was remembering someone else’s life and not my own. I remembered my first kiss; Lisa in her driveway when I was in grade 11. It was the butt of a shared joke now, but that night had left more of an indelible mark on me and everything that had come after. When she was 34, what would Aliona think of me when she looked back on the last couple of days? I thought back to the first time I’d had sex; a girl nicknamed Trix because she liked her guys younger than her. ‘Trix is for kids,’ as the joke went. She liked fucking young DJs, and I’d done her in the backseat of her car in the parking lot outside a club after one of my first big gigs when I was 22. Her pussy had seemed so perfect and wet, the way she told me to pull her hair as I fucked her from behind was so sexy at the time. I was so amazed I was actually putting my cock into her that I came almost instantly. I didn’t even know her real name. It was fucking lousy now that I think about it. Probably the worst sex I’d ever had.
“Where you at?” Aliona asked me softly, her hand still on mine but squeezing harder now.
“What?” I asked, snapping out of my reverie.
“You’re gone again,” she continued quietly, “I’m over here.”
She was looking at me now, a small smile on her face and the stricken confusion still in her eyes. I liked the impish mischief I normally found there better. Right now she looked worried instead of carefree, like she could see how much baggage I had brought and was going to help me carry it whether she wanted to or not. Daunted but prepared.
“Sorry. Just thinking,” I said noncommittally.
“No,” she said plainly as her grip intensified on my hand, “tell me.”
I breathed a sigh, not prepared for how worried I felt. I’d never talked honestly about stuff like this with anyone except Lisa, and not even her for several years. I’d become the marketing; the real me was just someone that came to visit in the silence and in the dark lonely space between 5 and 6 am. The friend you rarely speak to but who comes over uninvited anyways, not realizing how much things had changed between the two of you. Facing that inevitable confrontation never felt good; the things you would have to say, the conversation you’d carefully imagined never playing out the way you’d prepared for it.
“How about I show you instead?” I asked.
“Okay,” Ali answered, her eyes regaining some of their light as she continued after biting her lip in that half cute/half serious way she had, “but let me say this first. I really do want you to be my first, Mark. You’re not taking advantage of me; I want to do this. It’s up to me and I want it to be you. Tonight.”
“Alright,” I said, “but I’m not going to let your first time be in the back of a car in a parking garage.”
“That’s sweet,” she said, her full smile and the light behind her eyes returning, “meow.”
We chuckled as we got back into the car together. Once out of the garage and onto the street again I told her I had one stop to make first, and after heading deeper into downtown I pulled up in front of a building on a narrower and poorly lit side street with the simple stenciled letters ‘syndicate’ spray painted on the door. Aliona stayed in the car watching me as I got out and rang a buzzer; Cutter Jean opened the door.
“Fuckin’ Fox,” he said in his thick patois, “gwan get your ass in here bredren; I’m pouring shots at the turntables, seen? The crew’s all in.”
“HEY YO!” he yelled over the thumping beats I could hear coming from his back room, “THE CREW’S ALL IN! FOX IS HERE!”
Shots at syndicate was an old preshow tradition for some of us that had been in the DJ game as long as I had. It was our particular genres biggest record store, and the only really quality cutting house for actual vinyl records in the city. Jean had been cutting my tracks to acetate dubplates for me as long as I’d been making them. These days the shop was slower; most DJs had gone digital in the last several years. There was still an old school clique of purists like me though that made syndicate their second home. I could see familiar faces through the bead curtain that lead to the back and a heady haze of rich smelling herb smoke hung thick in the air. Fast amen breaks rolled over LFO bass lines and no one seemed to have heard him.
“I have to grip those plates and then jet Cutter, I can’t stay,” I told him.
“Alright, bet,” he replied, going behind the counter and handing me a thin square bundle wrapped in brown paper, “I see you at the jam later though bredren. Gwan mash it up proper, seen? Like old times.”
“You know you know,” I said, bumping knuckles and then leaving the smoky cauldron of churning music behind as I got back into my car. I put the package on the backseat and Aliona looked at it curiously.
“Are those records?” she asked, “this look like somewhere you’d make a drug deal.”
“Those are the tracks you helped me make. I’m gonna drop those tonight,” I said, driving away from the curb.
“I think you’re giving me too much credit, all I did wsa listen to them” she said, patting my leg. “Wait…what do you mean ‘tonight’?”
“I’m going to show you instead of tell you, remember?”
“Okay…” she sounded more curious than worried. Why did I always expect her to be worried? Was it because I usually was?
“Do you have a curfew, Ali?” I asked her suddenly.
“Why would I have a curfew?” she asked smiling, then turned her head quickly to look at me, “wait…how old do you think I am, Mark?”
“It doesn’t matter, never mind,” I replied, “we should eat something first. What kind of food do you like?”
“I recently found out I like sucking things into my mouth; how about Chinese?” she answered without hesitation, “but not Vietnamese. I hate rice noodles, they’re too small. I mean thin.”
“Perfect,” I said to Ali, smirking at her writer’s gift for innuendo, “I hate them too.”
She shook her head at me again and grinned and winked with her lower lip in her teeth.
When we were at the restaurant together we ate but didn’t talk much. We exchanged a lot of coy grins but didn’t seem to need small talk. She seemed to dislike it as much as me, and I couldn’t get over my surprise at how I could stomach the silence when I was with Aliona. At some point during our meal she had taken off one of her shoes and between bites amused herself by running her little toes up my leg or wiggling her foot along my thigh and into my crotch. Whenever she did it I had looked at her and smiled and she would wink. Watching her suck noodles into her tiny mouth, or even just opening it to put her tongue out and take bites from the end of her chopsticks, kept me occupied. I was enthralled and could feel myself slipping further and further under her already intoxicating spell.
As I pulled into the already fast filling parking lot of the club, a big loud place called Bruhaha, she looked at me with a moment of dismay on her face and said, “Oh man I totally suck. I just thought about it; I didn’t bring my ID Mark, I didn’t know we were going out out.”
“It’s all good, you’re with me. No one is going to ask for it.”
We went in the side entrance where there was no line, her carrying the paper wrapped bundle and I my steel record box so we could hold hands. The bouncer just nodded, recognizing me, and gave a quick look up and down Aliona’s slight frame and back to me; nodding in approval with the universal facial expression for “nice one, mate.” Ali looked around at everything, craning her neck around like it was rubber as she tried to take everything in all at once. The side door entered behind the stage where the turntables were elevated on the stage, so it wasn’t until she came up onto the stage that she could see the entire scope of Bruhaha. It was huge, with a lowish ceiling that stretched back away from the stage towards the two bars on either side of the room at the back. The floor was already packed with people, bouncing to the four-on-the-floor rhythms Jarv was laying down for them. It was the loudest club in the city, and despite his idiocy in the studio he was a machine behind the decks; no matter what I thought about him personally, he had earned this prestigious spot by grinding constantly up through the ranks.
He raised one finger high in the air as a dramatic rise built in the music and the crowd responded by throwing their hands up high, only to explode into motion again as he slammed into another track, dropping his hand in a fist like a hammer and letting out a long yell that was carried away and drowned out by the massive row of bass cabinets facing the crowd from under the stage. It was one of mine, the tempo half that of the previous song, the tones twice as low and the drums twice as hard, and the place went absolutely mental. I put my record box on a table to the left of the decks next to his and took the package from Ali and set it down as well. Jarv looked over, nodded to me and looked her up and down with an odd look on his face, and went back to dominating the packed floor of dancers.
Behind the decks on the stage there were VIP booths for DJs and their guests, and a small private bar where everything was comp for those playing on any given night. I yelled into Ali’s ear asking her what she wanted. She shrugged so I got a pair of double screwdrivers and led here to a vacant booth. Even behind the speakers as we were it was incredibly loud, so as was becoming usual for us we just sat together smiling at each other. She nodded her head and moved her shoulders to the rhythm, exercising far more restraint than I’d ever seen her display. At the booth next to us she could see some other DJs and their girls periodically bending their faces to the table and coming up sniffling.
“Is that what I think it is?!” she yelled in my ear. I just nodded and she wrinkled her nose and shuddered. “Gross.”
Lacy Casey came rolling up to their table on roller skates, bent luridly at the waist exposing her perky dancers ass scantily clad in little girl panties beneath her tiny red and black plaid skirt, and came back up rubbing her nose as she noticed me. She adjusted her breasts under the baby doll t she had on, and did a little turn on her skates which brought her over to our table. She looked at me lustily and then noticed Aliona sitting close to my side with her hand tightly interlocked with mine. She made a weird face at Ali and looked back at me.
“Who’s my replacement?!” she asked.
“Don’t start!” I cut her off, “Seriously!”
“Meh, whatever,” she replied, her face still locked in disdain, “disco candy?!”
She had reached her hand into her Hello Kitty backpack as she said it and came out with a small ziplock bag full of pink pills in the shape of hearts. She shook three out onto her hand and held them out to me. I frowned at her and made a face that said “for real?” without having to speak. She knew well I had left that sort of thing behind several years ago. She shrugged and held her hand towards Aliona, who wrinkled her nose and quickly leaned back into me like Casey was some weird creature. She was, come to think of it. Casey shrugged and skated away, putting the pills in her own mouth instead. She skated up behind Jarv and put her hands on his chest from behind and started gyrating against him. He leaned back and moved with her as he mixed into the next track.
“What’d she mean, ‘replacement’?” Aliona asked directly into my ear. I could feel the moist heat of her breath on me and turned so our faces were alongside each other with my mouth by her ear as well.
“Don’t sweat it, she’s just a bitch,” I said, leaning back to look at her in the eye. She seemed satisfied with that and went back to listening to the music, moving more now as she grew more comfortable in the environment.
As the night passed she had one more drink and cut herself off, citing her size for the reason she never had more than a couple drinks. We walked around the club so she could try to take it all in; the lights, the sound, the excited people, the general building energy of a rammed night club. Everyone who knew me wanted to stop and talk despite the volume, and I did my best to keep each chat brief. I had nothing to say to these people, and nothing they could say would be something I was interested in; especially not with Aliona’s hand in mine. Everything that usually annoyed me just bounced off, like she was some kind of shield or protective bubble that kept me safe from all the bullshit.
“And you hate all this again why!?” Aliona yelled at me as we went back to the booths behind the turntables, “I think it’s exciting!”
“I guess it is…at first!” I shouted near her ear.
We sat back down and her hand released mine and found my leg. It stroked firmly up my thigh and came to rest over my cock which instantly jumped to life under her touch. I looked at her and saw a gleam in her eye. She licked her tongue between her front teeth with her lips barely open and began to rub her hand back and forth. Her little fingers found the zipper of my pants and started to tug it downwards as she shifted her shoulders to the beat.
“What’s this then?” I asked into her ear. She leaned close to me and whispered as loud as she could into my ear.
“A deposit,” she said, licking the back of my earlobe and then biting it, “on later.”
“Oh, Ali” I said in her ear appreciatively.
“Call me kitty,” she whispered, licking my erlobe again with the tip of her tiny wet tongue.
My pants open, she put her tiny hand inside and found my cock which was now fully erect and left her face against mine, her right cheek against my left. Her soft little hand and fingers could barely wrap around its width, and she pulled it out through my fly under the table. She began stroking it, slowly at first. I looked into her eyes and she returned my stare with her impish grin. Her hand was so soft and warm, and as she stroked me off she started moving it faster. She lewdly licked the palm of her other hand with the width of her tongue, filling it with as much saliva as she could, and moved it to join the first. Her wet hand wrapped around my head as the other stroked my shaft up and down; her face back against mine she panted and sighed and whined breathily in my ear. She began rotating her wet little fist around my head with the tip against her palm. Soon my precum joined her saliva and she moved her hand around faster. She licked her lips and writhed her body to the music as she jerked me off under the table, looking into my eyes the whole time in her oh so sexy way. Faster than I had in ages I felt my cock starting to bulge and her eyes and smile got even bigger as I came into her tiny hand. She cupped both hands around my head and caught as much as she could, the rest dripping to the floor of the club. I was breathing heavy and she giggled, putting her face down by the edge of the table. She licked the tip of my cock off and then started lapping the load from her little dripping hands. She sat up and sucked each finger in succession and then licked her lips slowly with the tip of her tongue. I put my cock back in my pants and heaved a sigh. She was such a beautiful little angel and she was mine; then again…she could have been the antichrist and I’d have been okay with that too. There was nothing slutty about her, nothing that turned me off. Her innocence belayed any distaste for her overt behavior towards me. She genuinely just liked making me feel good.
“I have to get ready to do this now” I said, my breathing not yet back to normal. She nodded and got up from the booth with me.
I took her by the hand, still a bit sticky, and walked her out to the dance floor so I could hear the sound I was about to play on. I’d played here before, but not since they renovated. There was easily twice as much volume and three times the bass as I remembered; crystal clear in quality. The dancers had grown more aggressive in their movements, the music taking them away with it as Jarv wound them up even tighter for me. I nodded in approval up at him and he held up two more fingers to let me know how many more tracks he was going to drop before handing the reins to me.
“I’m going to stay down here!” Ali yelled. I nodded at her and patted her on the ass. She stood on her tip toes to put her mouth by my ear and said, “I can’t wait for later!”
She threw her arms up around my neck and kissed me on the mouth, her tongue tangling with mine. I kissed her back and then left her there, heading behind the decks and getting my headphones from my record box. Cutter Jean was back there too, and he put his arm around my shoulders.
“Respect! Can I bless that mic on your vibe!?” he yelled into my ear, barely audible over the house sound and large monitors pointed at us. I nodded and he grabbed my hand, “Together again, seen!? Bad man duo gwan mash it!”
He grabbed the mic from beside the mixer as Jarv blended in to his last track and the crowd cheered louder. Cutter didn’t MC anymore, and I rarely played with an MC since switching to a slower but heavier sound during the last year or so. He and I had once held down a weekly residency at a different club for over a year though, and the hype of a new weekly with my name on the opening night flyer had brought out old school heads I hadn’t seen in ages. Jarv grabbed my hand and shook it, putting his other arm around me and then holding my hand up in the air to the applause of the crowd. His track was almost over and I felt the familiar stab of nerves and adrenaline in my stomach that came when I was about to touch down.
“Nice and tight, yeah!?” he yelled in my ear.
“Nice work for once, Jarv! You got them churned up proper for me!” he leaned back and smirked then glanced out at where Aliona was standing, swaying her hips only slightly with her hands to her mouth in anticipation of whatever was going to happen next, and then he looked back at me knowingly. “Yeah, that’s not what I meant! But you’re welcome!”
“Watch out for her for me or you’re fired!” I said as I put my headphones around my neck and plugged them into the mixer.
He hit the power on the turntable and the platter started to slow down, stretching out and distending the beat as it crept to halt, the crowd throwing their hands up and screaming. Jean stepped up to the front of the stage and clicked the mic on.
“ALL HEADS INSIDE! OLD SCHOOL CREW! ALL THE MASSIVE FRONT TO BACK! MAKE SOME NOISE FOR THE ONE LIKE DJ JAAAAAAARV!” he held the mic towards the crowd and their screams intensified. I took the package from beside my record box and held it up for them to see as I ripped it open. I took one of the fresh acetate pressings out and smelled it before putting it on the left turntable just as Jarv’s last tune finished winding down on the right.
“NOW MAKE THAT NOISE!” Jean yelled, “IT’S TIME TO GET GRIMY IN THIS PIT! MARK FOX! CUTTER JEAN! BRUHAHA MASSIVE! AAAAARE YOOOUUUU READYYYYYYYY!?!”
As they screamed in response to Jean, the best hype man I’d ever played with, I started the turntable and the intro came in, brutal crunchy drums punching out of the sound system at the capacity crowd. They started moving in unison and as I looked around I saw anticipation in all the eyes meeting mine. Aliona looked so excited she was about to explode and she started moving to the beat that had got her going in my room earlier that day. As the intro built and built and built the sounds of sirens and air raid horns joined the mix, low bass building underneath it all. I leaned on the mixer, frowning down into the eager masses as Jean started hyping them up for what they all guessed was coming.
Then, just as they were about to unleash themselves in reckless abandon, silence. The track held a pause longer than they had expected, and a small fast snare roll built in volume before pausing as well. In the space left you could hear a pin drop and exactly before the track started in all its full brutal glory, a stab of unnaturally deep bass descended on them and Jean shouted, “NOW MASH IT UP!”
The club exploded like someone had put all the dancers in a pile with a nuclear bomb underneath them. It was the most unruly and rowdy I’d ever seen the dance go off. I couldn’t even see Aliona in the mass of flailing limbs and people jumping up and down. Most of them wore looks of utter shock and disbelief and were screaming for a reload…where the DJ backspins and rewinds the track to let it drop and build again. Jean was screaming “REEEEE-LOOOAAAAAD!” into the mic but I ignored everything and cut quickly to the other deck, a beautiful female voice saying “now…switch” and it dropped to an even heavier and more maniacal track at half tempo on the other turntable and doubled the frenzy the crowd was in. I built and brutalized my way through the entire one hour set, Jean trying to keep up freestyling on the mic, without letting up or pausing or letting them catch their breath for a moment apart from one ten second pause right before the final track of my set where a lusty female whined and screamed in a building climax as the drums built and I dropped the same tune from the very beginning one last time as she screamed in ecstasy and the crowd pulled out every last drop they had. As it ended, Jean was shaking his head at me, his hands on his knees and sweat dripping from his dreadlocks and face. Sweat poured from me as well and my legs were weak from bouncing up and down at twice the speed of the music for an hour to keep my own metronome. I left the crowd a sweating drooling mess, their clothes plastered to their bodies, and Jean held up his hand and yelled down the mic, “BIBLICAL NASTYNESS!!! WHO JUST FOUND GOD!?” They all screamed as best as they could and he yelled, “GOD IS THE DJ, AND HIS NAME IS MARK! MOTHER! FUCKING! FOX!” I backspun the record and threw my headphones out into the crowd as they cheered and I waved.
Standing in the middle of it all was little Aliona. I could see her, a look of wide-eyed awe on her face, coated in her own sweat with her shirt stuck to her body like someone had dumped water over her head. I hopped off the front of the stage and quickly pushed my way through the crowd without taking my eyes off her, pulling away from those trying to grab my shirt and talk to me, and grabbed her up in my arms. Her hair was completely soaked and plastered to her face and neck. I kissed her, holding her around the waist tightly with her feet off the floor. People around us cheered as the floor started to slowly clear while Jarv thanked everyone over the mic for coming and reminded everyone to drive safe, and if they couldn’t then not to drive at all. I set Aliona down and her knees buckled a bit. I kissed her again, but her mouth was lazy and she looked like she was going to pass out. With my arm around her for support I led her off the floor and behind the decks to the VIP area.
“Oh…oh…oh…” she stammered, “…ohmygod. What the fuck was that?” she slurred as I guided he ass onto the bench in one of the booths.
“A deposit,” I grinned hugely, jacked up and panting from the set, “on later. Catch your breath, it’ll pass.”
She leaned her arms on her legs and put her head between her legs, her soaked hair touching the floor. Jarv saw us and got out from under where Lacy Casey was sitting his lap two booths away. He had a look of shock on his face as well, and his pupils were huge. He leaned against me with his arm around my shoulders and his other hand on my chest.
“Massive dude, massive,” he panted, “thanks again.”
He looked over my shoulder at Aliona.
“Is she alright?” he asked, a look of concern on his face.
“Just gapped out and winded,” I said to him.
“Are you sure? That was pretty hard stuff man, heavier than I expected, she doesn’t look so good. What else did she take?”
I looked back at her. Her back was jerking softly and she was shivering. I pushed Jarv away from me and glared into his eyes, gripping his shirt in my fist.
“What the fuck do you mean, ‘what else did she take?”, my voice shook and my breath came in short sharp jerks.
“Nothing sinister dude,” he looked shocked and scared of me, confused, “Casey said she said ‘no’ to the pills but figured she should be warmed up for you like I did with the crowd so your girl got a doctored water bottle. You gotta get high for your first party, man, you know that.”
I took his shirt in both fists and shook him, snarling. Jean came up and pulled us apart as I reached for Jarv again with a hand like a claw. Casey rushed over to Jarv’s side and yelled, “What the fuck, Fox!?!” I pulled away from Jean and grabbed Casey’s hair in my fist and shook her head once, violently.
“What the FUCK did you do you FUCKING slut!?!” I screamed in her face, shaking her head again.
Casey shrieked. There were more people around us now, crowding to see what was happening. Two bouncers were pushing through the people towards us. Casey grabbed at my arm and tried to get free from me. I jerked her face around to look in her eyes and screamed, “WHAT!?!” as I shook her again.
“It was Jarv you fucking asshole! Let go of my fucking hair!” she yelled, still struggling against me and losing her footing on her skates. I let go and spun on Jarv and paused, my breath ragged. He looked confused, like he had no clue what he had done wrong.
I broke his nose.
The bouncers were on us immediately. One grabbed him as he lunged at me and the other grabbed my arms from behind, pulling me away. I saw Jean’s eyes go big and he pushed out of the crowd saying “holyshitman!” I pulled free of the bouncer and pushed through after him towards Aliona.
She had arched backwards onto the booth seat, drooling out the side of her mouth, with her arms pulled up and her hands twisted into ugly talons. Her chin was against her chest, her teeth clenched, her eyes leaving mine and rolling back into her head. Her jerking had turned into full on convulsions and she was rolling off the bench seat towards the floor beneath the table. Jean grabbed her by one thin leg and caught her, sliding her off the seat as I got my hands under her back and head and we eased her to the floor. I panicked. I just knelt beside her with my hands shaking in my lap, Jarv’s blood across my right knuckles and her drool across my left; I wrung them together, mingling the two. I shook my head back and forth quickly and just stared at the whites of her eyes.
“Someone call a FUCKING ambulance, SEEN!?!” Jean yelled, looking at the people looming over to see what was happening.
“They ‘d take too long, and we’ll all just have to talk to the cops,” a female voice said, annoyingly calm.
Someone slapped my face. I looked up and saw Casey as she drew back to slap me again, and stopped as her eyes met mine. She looked shorter. She had taken off her roller skates.
“Give me your keys. Fox. Your keys. FOX! GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING KEYS !” she tried to get through to me while I shook my head quickly and just looked blankly at her, then back to Ali, then back to her, then back to Ali dying in front of me. Jean shook my shoulder and I confusedly pulled my keys out and then handed to towards him. Casey snatched them and Jean and I picked Aliona up off the floor.
“Be careful,” I said numbly and we carried her out the back door, the crowd of onlookers following us outside. They grouped outside the back door and looked on as Casey unlocked my car and opened the back door. Jean and I put her gently in the back seat and I climbed in with her, lifting her head into my lap and stroking her hair. She had stopped convulsing but had gone cold, shivering violently and still drooling. Her beautiful lips were turning blue through her pink lip gloss and her normally perfect smooth light brown skin was drenched in sweat, covered in goosebumps, and turning grey. The car was already moving before I realized Casey was driving and Jean was in the passenger seat looking back at us with wide eyes and a partially open mouth. I could taste blood in my mouth. My bottom lip was clenched in my teeth, my whole mouth twitching wildly as I blinked rapidly as tears poured from my eyes. My breath tore raggedly in and out of my lungs, punctuated by the occasional sob; I rubbed the sides of her face and her hair more frantically as Casey pushed my perfectly tuned car to its limit, roaring through a red light with her face set in a look of grim determination. I let out a long quiet moan.
“Ooooooooohhhhhhh fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck[i][b]fuck,” I muttered as I stared into her glassy, twitching, rolled back eyes, “please god please ohfuckfuckfuck please no. Please. Not again. Please, not again.”