When you hit the floor, nothing else matters but the beat.
It dictates what you do and how you move – but not who is beside you.
Could be the guy from the bar, all rough moves and hands that get too close… or it could be the girl too drunk to care, sweaty hair and loose lips… you don't have to know them, but they better be ready to dance – otherwise, what's the point, right?
It is her first night here.
It is not her first time at a club, though.
She was raised on this sort of thing – no bottle of milk to her lips, it's been ecstasy and shots for as long as she can recall.
But this is the new hot spot and where one Davies goes, the other must follow.
They skip the line and they blow kisses and they don't waste time talking.
Kyla is all softness and smiles, wrapped up in muscles of every man there.
But the other sister is wild and wicked, just as happy to be dancing alone and as she is to be pressed hard against someone.
It is her first time here at this club.
And now, Ashley owns it.
/ / /
The way they dip and the way they slide and the way those fingers get happily stuck along the way – at the sides, at the shoulders – and Ashley isn't sure she wants to turn around and find out the face that goes with these moves… because they feel too good.
But fate isn't always on her side and you got to take the bitter with the sweet, don't you?
"Turn around."
So, she does and keeps her eyes closed and is hit with all woman upon her – the swell of breasts and the swivel of hips – and they slide.
And they dip. And those fingers get stuck in her hair – they tug and they run free and Ashley inhales sharply when a thigh is suddenly so firm between her legs.
"C'mon, open up… it won't kill you…"
And the voice is even softer than before – despite all the ways those words can be taken - and Ashley doesn't need some girl falling for her again and this club isn't the place for anyone who is possibly pure.
So, Ashley does what she does best.
She lowers and she undulates and she takes back any chance this girl ever had to be brutally honest.
And they are basically fucking on the floor, clothes still on but pulse definitely too high, and Ashley doesn't ever take a peek – content at the sound of this girl groaning and pleasantly surprised at her own stifled moans… like she is a wave cresting… like she is fighting a losing battle… like she is about to come undone, right here, in this club that she dominates.
/ / /
She looked, though.
And a pillar of salt is what she is, dissolving and falling down.
Blue eyes flutter and fade and are swallowed up by the shadows and the strobes and the mass of people – and Ashley almost steps up to something she doesn't even understand, almost runs after the girl and almost imagines grabbing the girl's wrist, imagines keeping the girl closer than close…
Kyla is a mess and all her boys are eager for more and Ashley must save the Davies name… if nothing else. And they walk out and they crash in the limo and they both pop pills to keep going.
But Kyla is screaming out the moon-roof and Ashley is dreaming while awake.
She is dreaming of blue eyes and delicious longing and the way it feels to fall in love in five seconds with a girl you don't know and can't remember how to find again.
/ / /
END