The music was loud, the bass pounding, the floor vibrating. The lights were dim and there were strobes along the wall, making every movement look slow and sensual. A black light on the ceiling made anything white in the room glow, and since it was "Black Light Night" at this particular club, everyone, aside from me, was wearing white.

Even her.

Dressed in a strapless, knee-length, flowing white dress, she was dancing on the other side of the room like no one was watching her. Little did she know that I was. I'd been watching her from the first moment I saw her. And I was planning to make my move.

I slowly made my way across the dance floor. With so many people bumping and grinding, it was nearly impossible to move any faster. But I knew that once I got there, it would all be worth the wait.

I found is surprising—and upsetting—that she was in a place like this. She wasn't the type to cheat, I knew, so what she was doing in a singles' bar I wouldn't understand. But I was going to find out, and I would do it the slow, enjoyable way.

I adjusted my mask—it was an "anonymous" singles' bar—and smoothed back my hair, not liking the colored contacts I was wearing and fake coloring I'd put in it for disguising purposes. It made me feel greasy, and my eyes dry out, but judging by the stares I was getting; it must have still looked alright.

I approached her slowly, moving my hips to the beat in time to hers, matching her movements exactly, though a little less exaggeratedly. The number of people forced our proximity to the minimum, and only when I was nearly on top of her did she even notice my presence and open her eyes.

I gave her a smirk and raised an eyebrow, knowing she wouldn't recognize me, though I saw through her mask instantly. She smiled back at me, putting a finger to her lips, drink in the other hand (something strawberry flavored) and lowered her eyelids. I suppressed the shiver that was making its way up my spine and continued in my own seduction.

I didn't ask if she wanted to dance, only slipped my hand to her hips and pulled her closer to me. She didn't pull away, which both excited me and pissed me off.

I both loved and hated the way her dress fit her perfectly, leaving very little to the imagination and filling me with desire. Hated and loved the way her hair smelled. It wasn't in its usual pigtails today, but in an elegant and complicated updo, with a few tendrils framing her face, curled at the tips. Her entire being smelled of strawberries like it always did, but somehow it was better like this.

I loved and hated her pink lip gloss, and her shoes, and her smile. She shouldn't smile with anyone else. But it was so damn beautiful.

There was no need for words as we moved, gyrating our hips to the underlying beat, matching our movements to the bass that shook the floor. She found a surface and ditched her drink, instead wrapping her arms around my neck. I pulled her in by her waist, holding her closer to myself as we swayed.

The pace of the song changed and we accommodated. Trying to play hard-to-get, she turned around so her hack was to me, still leaning against my chest and not looking like she wasn't enjoying it at all. I ran my hands shamelessly up and down her sides, tracing the contours of her body better than that damned dress did.

I loved the way she glowed under the black lights.

I bent my neck and ran my lips along her neck, whispering words she couldn't hear, the motion of my lips ticking her neck. I heard her moan slightly. It only made me do it more.

I hated that she got goose bumps from someone else's touch.

She placed her hands over mine and guided them up, away from her hips and to her waist again. She tossed a smile at me over her shoulder, daring me to defy her. I inched my fingers slowly downward, only to have them pulled up again. She grinned slyly and pulled away.

In the beginning, I was in control, but I found myself powerless, and followed her, trying to get a hold of myself once more, remembering my objective.

I hated that sway of her hips, knowing it wasn't for me.

She led me to the bar and ordered a drink, looking at me to do the same. I ordered something I hated, just to throw her off in case she was figuring it out.

I hated the way the bartender looked at her.

I got closer and leaned to whisper in her ear, asking for a name. She giggled and answered me honestly.

I hated that she would so easily give someone else her name.

Our drinks were served and I paid, giving her another smirk as I lifted the glass to my lips and tilted my head back, trying not to gag on the horrible taste. I placed my glass back on the counter and when she was finished I motioned to the dance floor, asking for another dance. I wanted to feel my hands on her again.

She nodded.

I hated that she would dance with a stranger.

I took her hand and led her to the center of the floor. A new song came in, and it was one she loved. Her smile grew wider and her movements more wild. She threw back her head and laughed a soundless laugh.

I loved her laugh.

She lifted her arms carelessly into the air, fully enjoying the song, the drink, the moment. She seemed in her zone, and it was too amazing to interrupt.

I watched her swivel away from me and spin, shaking her hips seductively, leading me away. Her eyes opened and looked right at me and she crooked one finger, beckoning me to follow as she danced her way back to the center of the crowd. I was only too happy.

Throngs of people danced to the very same song, but I only had eyes for one girl and she was busy shaking her hips and wiggling in a way that should be illegal. I licked my lips and followed like she wanted.

We played a game of cat and mouse, and she taunted me, leading me on, letting me get close enough to touch, only to dance out of reach the next second.

I loved that she was such a tease. And I hated it.

But I was unable to fully enjoy the moment, knowing that I couldn't appear as myself. She didn't know this was me, and for all I knew, she wouldn't act like this if she did. There was the underlying bitter taste in my mouth of something I couldn't quite identify.

She was leading me to the door, I realized when I finally caught up with her. She ended her little dance and leaned against me, breathing hard. She asked if we could leave and go somewhere a little more private.

I thought I felt my face heat up, but the mask covered any blush that might have appeared. I grinned and offered her my arm. I had a triumphant smirk on my face as we left; knowing that I was the one she was leaving with. But it wasn't me.

In truth, I'd decided to follow her here. She'd been acting strangely lately. I wanted to know what was going on. She usually went out with her best friend, the Ice-Queen on the weekends, but that purple-eyed bitch was out of town, so she said she was going out alone.

But now here she was on my arm. But she believed it to be someone else's.

-- -- -- -- --

We headed back to her place. I drove. It seemed she had gotten a ride, meaning she didn't have a ride home unless she met someone. This pissed me off, too, for some reason. But I didn't let that distract me. I totally focused myself. My little Polka Dots was going to be taught a lesson.

She led me up to her apartment—I knew it well—and unlocked the door in a few seconds, then grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me in after her, giggling. She pressed her back against a wall, closing the door with her foot, and pulled me down for a kiss. It was passionate, lust-filled, but by no means empty.

I growled.

That only served to make her laugh again, and I felt it against my mouth as my lips devoured hers. I grabbed her hands and wove our fingers together, turning the kiss into something she wouldn't laugh at. When I broke away, she was panting, and her eyes flickered to the stairs. A little grin played on her lips and she grabbed my hand and pulled me away.

How could she do this? Get so far with someone she met only hours before? Invite him to her home, to her bed?

We stole kisses all the way down the hall, discarding our outermost articles of clothing. The masks went first. My appearance was changed enough that she wouldn't recognize me unless she looked hard, and in the heat of the moment, I was hoping she wouldn't.

Then my jacket was gone, my shoes, her shoes, my socks. My belt, my shirt, and then I pinned her to the bed and started our lip war again.

She moaned against my lips, provoking me more. I felt more than just desire heating up my stomach.

Slowly, I moved my hands to her wrists and closed my fingers around them. I tightened my grip ever so slightly by the second, and lifted her arms over her head. Once she realized what I was doing, she froze, but only for a second.

I moved my hands around so that I held both of hers down with only my right, and then let the other hand roam, all the while ravishing her neck without pause.

I decided that was as good a time as any to start the lesson.

I tightened my grip on her arms until it became painful, and searched for the zipper to her dress, pulling it down agonizingly slowly. Then I zipped it right back up again, and then teased her once more. She whimpered under my touch, part pain, and part anticipation.

I whispered alluringly in her ear, altering the way I spoke so that she wouldn't recognize me by voice, telling her all the things I wanted to do to her. Her face turned bright red, and I couldn't help but chuckle. I began to pull her dress down slowly, exposing the silky black lingerie she wore. Soon the white dress was on the floor, as were my pants. Neither of us wore more than our unmentionables.

I still held her hands above her head, making it impossible to escape as I ran my fingers down her sides. She enjoyed every second of it, and I wasn't one to disappoint. I leaned down again and kissed my way down her jaw and to her collarbone, then traveled a little further down to the curve of her breast. Her breath hitched and I smirked.

And pinched her hip, hard.

"Ow! Natsume, what the hell!"

So she had recognized me? Damn. Whatever, I could make this work.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her eyes fiery as they bore into mine.

"I could ask you the same thing," I growled out. "Going to a club and picking up any random guy? What if it hadn't been me, Mikan?"

Her hair—no longer in that elegant updo, but feathered messily across her pillows—moved gently as she shook her head.

"You're so stupid," she said, sighing. She tugged against my grip but I refused to let her go until she answered me. I pinned her tightly with my legs straddling her slender body. Slender, perfect body.

"I'm stupid? You're the one who's cheating! I can't believe this…" I narrowed my eyes at her. "Why?"

She blew a strand of hair from her face. "Let me up!"

"No!"

"You're so stupid!" She yelled again.

"You're the stupid one, Polka Dots!" She scowled when I used her old nickname, but didn't retort.

"You think I'm really cheating on you? Natsume, I could see through that stupid mask of yours from the second I saw you. You'll have to do a little better than fake hair color and colored contacts to fool me."

She knew it was me?

"That doesn't explain what you were doing there in the first place!"

"I knew you'd come! That's why! We haven't done anything romantic in the longest time. I thought this would be fun. But you had to go and ruin it." She sighed. "But I'm glad I was right." Her face lit into the smile I loved so much.

"So this was all a trap?"

"Pretty much," she laughed. "Pretty well thought up on my part, if I may say so myself. I'm proud."

"Hn." I wouldn't admit that she'd gotten me completely. I'd really believed she was cheating.

"So, what do you want to do?" She was thinking the same thing I was.

"Well," I said. "We've already gotten this far…"

We exchanged a grin and I leaned in for another kiss.