Chapter 2
The Perfect Stranger
I kept my head bowed low at all times, avoiding eye contact with the security guard while Maddison did all the work. That involved her discretely cupping his man-junk and pulling her strapless dress down enough to free her breasts for 5 seconds.
"I'll see you soon hot chocolate," she bit her lip seductively in a Satanist whisper.
I may puke, and it's going to go all over Mr hot chocolate…
"And that's how you sneak into a club, take notes my dear" she acknowledges me after her victory. I'd assumed she forgot I was there when she decided to whip out her jigglers.
I kept tugging at the hem of my dress, trying to pull it down to block that perverted breeze, sneaking under and up.
"Stop fidgeting, you look great. If you're not going to smuggle those dresses back to your school at least keep only that one because you look hot," she giggles, dragging me to the bar. "Hey Johnny," she greets the bartender.
He was hip looking with a beanie, black framed glasses and square jaw line. Those glasses weren't fooling anybody, he was downright gorgeous.
"Who's your friend?" He asks, wiping down the table.
"Hermione, this is Johnny, he'll give us drinks as long as we don't get caught so don't fuck up, kay?" She pauses, taking her attention back to him, "my friend here is miserable and lonely and I have taken her here in hope I can get her and myself some action."
Why was she telling him this?! This was my personal life, I don't want him thinking I'm a loser! Except that's exactly what I am. I've been moping for months over Ron and somehow at the same time, I'm not even sad our relationship is over!
Johnny slips two shots of clear liquid over the bar. Water! Great, I need some clarity!
I take it desperately, hoping to shut myself up and stay out of this awkward conversation by chugging it down. Then as the glass tips its poison down my throat I feel it burn my insides.
I squint my eyes and scrunch up my nose. Johnny and Maddison laugh at me while I pinch my nostrils and attempt to cough it out of my system.
"Awesome, you got drinking nailed. Now just a couple more and you're ready to start hitting on guys," Maddison jokes, shooting her glass of alcohol in her mouth.
She laughs loudly and slams it back down on the bar, "keep 'em coming Johnny, we're getting smashed tonight!"
I cringe, lightly sipping on the next one. Maddison pouts and it slowly emerges into a peer pressured glare. I can feel her words in my head. Drink it, drink it, drink it, DRINK IT! I choke the rest down as quickly as I can, though aware of the pain it's causing me. This is not going to end well for me, I know it. I can't even handle drinking fizzy drinks sometimes. The intoxicating drink has me in a dizzy haze and I excuse myself to find a place to sit.
I spot a red set of staged couches, mounted on square-stacking stairs, and climb my way to lay my body lazily across the leather.
"Excuse me?" a voice interrupts.
A man, possibly 40 years of age, stands above me with a bottle of champagne in his hand and a bucket with ice in the other. "You're in my booth, VIP's only," he states boldly.
I wince. Damn it, this is not going well.
"But because you're so pretty I think we can work out a little arrangement," he whispers seductively by my ear with his hand on my thigh. It trails up higher and I struggle to process my brain to make me react. No, this is wrong. Don't touch me!
"Stop," I squeak helplessly.
"Come on baby," he encourages me. A wash of fury straightens me out as he slips his hands too high up my dress, enough to slip his old prune-fingers between my thighs. I clench shut and kick him off me. The blow sends him backwards but not enough to fall over and I swing my fist down between his thighs. He grunts loudly and cups his manhood in pain.
I scoff and run off quickly out of the VIP booth. The crowd is thick and when I look back to check if the bastard was following me I bump into a stranger and his drinks run down the front of my top.
Holy shit… I've seen what happens next in the movies.
He won't hit a girl will he? A big fight is about to start, I know it, and it's all because of my clumsiness.
"Great!" He hisses, shaking the drink off his hand.
I gasp at the cold liquid, soaking my chest area and I hate to admit I felt my lady-nips pucker lightly at the sudden coolness on my flushed complexion. Instantly my reaction is to wrap my arms across my breasts tightly.
"I am so sorry, it's just that," I barely finish explaining myself when he cuts me off.
"Yeah, you got yourself caught in Howard's booth; tough," he amusingly scoffs mercilessly. He doesn't seem to care, however he does seem to know what this Howard is capable of.
"I said I was sorry," I whimper. I felt like I was about to cry. This scene was too much for me to take, I want to go home!
He pauses, thinking over the situation and softens only slightly as his shoulders drop guard. "Come on," he sighs, leading me into the crowd of sweaty dancers.
I'm nervous to follow but I'm more nervous to disobey him…
He reaches another booth with the same red cushions as the others and it was higher above the floor ground, so you could look over the entire bar. The couches were placed around the corners of the room on individual high platforms, each with a personal waitress and ice bath for the drinks.
He offers the other side of the booth for me to take a seat and I hesitantly place myself into the corner where I feel most hidden.
He stares at me for a little while and a small evil smile spreads across his cheeks, "well aren't you the shy one. I wouldn't have expected so, showing up in a sexy dress like that." He runs his dry eyes up and down my figure while sipping on a new glass of fresh champagne; a replacement for his previous one, of which I'm now wearing.
I feel embarrassment wash over my cheeks, "it's not my dress," I mutter.
"You're going to have to speak louder darling, the music is quite loud."
"I don't own this dress," I repeat with a little more defence. What does this fellow want with me? I spilt his drinks and now he's inviting me to sit in his VIP section? There's a catch.
"You seem confused," he observes.
"I'm sorry I just don't get it…" I shrug shyly.
He smirks, "your dress is soaking and an innocent soul like yours was just begging for my mercy," he lazily leans back and kicks his leg up to lean on his other knee. He almost looks humoured by my weakness; it's rather insulting.
"What's your name?" I suddenly ask. I hadn't thought it through and it just came over me too quickly for me to stop myself.
"Oh no, my dear, spare me the details and I shall spare you mine, this isn't anything personal."
Then what is it?
"Surely you have a first name then at least?"
He was without a doubt the snobbiest boy I'd ever met. Though perhaps not much older than me he seemed, he was a whole lot richer. His body was coated in a navy button up; sleeves rolled up to tighten around his bicep and black pants down his leg. His hair was probably worth more than this dress, which is a lot since most of Maddison's friends are prickly rich girls.
"Draco. Just Draco," he tests me and the boundaries of his guidelines. I can see he isn't one for getting close. The way his tight facial features remain hardened in light conversations because he refuses to let his guard down. Trust issues perhaps?
Draco was a tall blonde of course and he was handsome, sure, but not with the kind of handsome features I usually take liking in. He had ghostly white skin; a milky complexion like cream and his hair was practically as white as a light globe that it beamed off the reflection of the clubs' neon lights. He was more dangerous looking in the sense he had the eyes of a snake, and resembled a lean, skinny figure but toned in all the right places.
Enough said; Draco was damn attractive.
"I'm Hermione," I gulp.
"I didn't ask your name," he replies.
Ouch.
"I'd rather not be called love or dear by you and rather my own name, thank you very much," I spat back.
"As the lady requests," Draco raises his glass in a toasting action.
"You're quite the charming one aren't you," I roll my eyes sarcastically.
His expression tells me he's not used to people being upfront with him with such sour language, but he isn't mad either; more shocked.
"Charming, quite, but not romantic," he hints with an obvious stare.
"You say that you're worried I might fall for you," I sigh.
"Oh it's happened before, I can assure you that sweetheart."
"Hermione," I correct him, "and I'm not the falling type."
"Let me guess, bad experience?" he teases.
"You think you can read my life? What about you Mr. Richie-rich with a VIP booth to yourself none the less? You come to these clubs because you don't receive enough attention at home and seek out a good shag with whatever girl sits on your lap…"
He is less than impressed and stares me down harshly.
"You're testing my limits," he warns.
"Nothing personal, remember?" I brush my words carefully with confidence.
"Clever, aren't you. What's an educated girl like yourself doing in a place like this?"
A small pinch of anger rushes through me as my brain racks through my memory for why.
"Because you're right, I did have a bad experience and now I'm here for the same reason as you… Though I admit this isn't my scene."
"Clearly," he agrees.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You look the part, you just don't act it. I can tell you're uncomfortable. You're too shy to be a slut like the rest of these girls; you're a virgin for sure," he directs his attention to the people on the dance floor. There's a smell of sex and sweat as the bodies grind on each other and pant heavily.
"And say I wasn't?"
"You are. Trust me," he scoffs playfully.
He hungrily stares over me and then pushes the feeling away by directing his eyes to his drink.
"I'm no virgin, sweetheart," I toy with one of his many nicknames.
He leans forward over the table, holding his weight on his arms and silences me in his hallucinating stare. "Something tells me your idea of sex must be different to mine."
"Perhaps…" I timidly whisper, remembering all the times I'd never reached my climax before Ron had already blew his load after a minute. Yes, definitely not his idea of sex…
He reads my thoughts like an open book, "you're thinking about it aren't you?"
"Perhaps," I repeat again, holding back on my information.
"Don't test me…" he bites his lip and comes to a stand.
"No," I tell him boldly, "tonight… I break the rules." A rush of confidents takes over my conscious part of mind and I stand to meet his body. I capture our lips together, openly circling them in a passionately sincere moment. He was gentle, but holding back the raging hormones I know are stored in his pants.
Draco's hands grip around my waist and slither down to grasp my butt. Every part of me wanted to get closer but even chest to chest there was still so much distance between our skins merging together in the way I'm secretly fantasizing about…
He tears his mouth away, backing up to catch a breath. For a moment I felt unwanted and downright rejected like he didn't want this, but the look of lust in his eyes reassured me he was more than into it.
"We're getting out of here…" he gasps, dragging me roughly through the crowd as he throws bills from his pockets to the bartender. "That should cover it," he hurriedly slips out in a rush.
I catch the last glimpse at Maddison whose jaw drops from Johnny's mouth to the floor when she notices me leave with Draco. I thought I heard her cheering behind the closed door but I was too busy catching up to Draco's fast moving steps to keep track.
His car drove us around a few corners to a gorgeous penthouse and by the time we'd rolled out the doors and into the elevator he had me pressed up against the wall in a hungry kiss.
I was in no mood to complain and let my body do the talking because I quite liked this particular conversation his and mine were having…
He lifts me up by my thighs and I wrap my legs around him, (not even caring that my dress rolled up my hips for the world to see) guides us out of the elevator and he throws me down on his bed when we've manoeuvred past the kitchen and living room.
He takes a longing moment to admire me and starts pulling at his buttons.
"Tell me what was bad about the sex," he says.
"I never said it was bad…" I question.
He leans his body over me teasingly, and my insides beg his attention. Shit! What was coming over me, I'd never acted like this until now.
"Whenever we had sex is lasted around 2 minutes," I avoid looking him in the eyes and averted them to other objects.
He slowly slides the zipper down my back and bites his lip, "he never made you come did he?"
It was so blunt, I was embarrassed to admit it.
"Say it," he demands by my ear.
My dress slips off the end of my feet and his hands are anywhere but on me!
"No he couldn't get me to," I cry desperately and he dips his head down to kiss me again.
"Good girl," he whispers.
In a second flat my bra was unclasped and he took my breasts into a more than affectionate grasp as he dragged his wet mouth across their skin. I was amazed at all the places he managed to hit to make me jump in surprise, like small little zaps of electricity.
"I like the way you respond to me so easily," he says blowing on my nipple breezily. I shudder and arch my back for more.
He straightens on his knees and unclasps his belt. Soon the last of his clothes were removed and his manhood struck me by surprise; he was more than well endowed, he was all perfection there ever could be in a penis – which I'd assumed wasn't much at all, they were all ugly.
But like Maddison told me; it's how you sit on it that matters.
"You're so wet, you ready for me sweetheart?" he pants, holding my hips and running his fingertips smoothly up the skin of my thighs. They trail so close to my core, I grow hotter and hotter under his lead.
Draco thrusts his torso close and guides the tip inside. He lets out a deep grunt and his eyes fight only to remain tightly shut in pure pleasure. Then his whole length slides deeper and his moan extends loudly in a hollowed roar, "fuck! Oh shit you're so tight. Mm," he grunts.
His moves in tune into a steady rhythm, pacing quickly but in time with mine. It sends tingles through the core of my stomach like a fire had been ignited in the pit.
"Yes! Draco!" I scream, letting my body surrender to him.
Was it minutes? An hour? Half? I didn't keep track of the time because it seemed so non-existent. Then as I came to the edge of my orgasm, my eyes rolled into the back of my head and my body clenched tight to every muscle as it built up and eventually steadied again.
Draco came with me, slowing down in pace and running out of breath. Then his body practically shut down and just rolled off to set aside on the mattress beside me.
I leave my legs spread, too sensitive and sore (in the good way) to move without flinching.
Draco and I didn't speak a word to each other until sleep took over our exhausted bodies and I let go of the weight holding me down.