See the first part for notes.
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She was sitting in the club – an attractive woman – alone. Yes, she knew how attractive she was. She had looks of a goddess and most fell for it from the first glance. Not many knew that she also had the killer instincts of a shark. She was a huntress. Her looks served her as a bait. But sometimes all those filthy eager eyes made her sick.
Right now she was tired of men weaving around her like a swarm of flies. She didn't want them. She wished they could all just lie down and die, here and now, for her amusement. But they wouldn't. They would just stare, burning her with those stares, trying to get her attention. The dim light of the club served little to hide those stares. Or, preferably, hide her from them. She looked them all over again lazily. Boring. No real men, just some scum. It was not that the club was some kind of a brothel. It was that all of the men here were of no interest to her.
The image of a boy at the meeting came unbidden to her mind. But that image was pleasurable, it made a smile appear on her face. Or rather it was a predatory grin. Those eyes – deep like a sea eyes of a wonderful colour. In the sunlight they played like pure emerald. Framed with long soft eyelashes – any girl would envy them. Soft curves of his face. He must have a tender skin… She smiled again, this time wistfully.
A man approached her, perhaps enchanted by her smile. Like moth flying on fire. He was obviously nervous and desperately trying to hide it under bravado. He constantly pulled the edges of his clothes as if trying to straighten them. With a faked ease he plopped down on a chair next to her. Se examined him: black tousled hair, short beard, oily eyes. He was on the verge of drinking too much.
"Hello, beauty," he purred, slurring the words.
Just what I need! she thought sarcastically and glared at him coldly. But it didn't confuse the man.
"What is a nice girl like you doing here all alone?" he asked looking at her greedily. He threw a quick glance back at his friends at the other table. Maybe they have a bet of some kind? she thought, noticing his glance. She was curious at what kind of bet they had. And she made an adamant decision to make this man fail. He was so disgusting.
"So, pretty, what's your name?"
"Not your business," she replied firmly.
"We're angry, aren't we?" he said with a poisonous smile and grabbed her wrist. "You will go with me to my table and we'll have a nice talk," he added winking at her and pulling her out of her chair. Well, trying to.
She turned out to be stronger, to his utter amazement. Standing up, she pried his hand off and squeezed it until she saw pain in his eyes. She let go of him and he rushed away in confusion and fear. She then slowly lowered herself back into her chair. Her thoughts returned to the Jedi-boy who was a complete opposite from that foul vermin. Her mind immediately cleared from irritation and a wistful smile returned to her face.
A boy – no, a young man – a Jedi. So pretty. How can a Jedi – A JEDI! – be so pretty? And not only his looks, but his soul was magnificent, too: so pure, so filled with light and life! The light of his soul shone in his eyes. She had heard many tales about Jedi in her life. Some of them were obviously concocted. Like ones about Jedi eating babies. But nowhere it was said that Jedi could be so sweet.
She also had heard they were hard to seduce. She will have to check this one. The only real problem was to get rid of an older Jedi for awhile. He definitely was not wanted here.
This place would be perfect. The smoke, appropriate music… The only problem is to get the little Jedi here.
At this thought her gaze stopped, frozen at the sight of those very same stormy eyes looking straight at her. The problem was solved – the boy WAS here.
**********************
Obi-Wan was brought out of his reverie by, strangely enough, silence. No, it was not like the whole club fell silent. It was just that he got so used to the constant hum of his friends' voices in the background that he felt uncomfortable when they broke off. He reluctantly tore his gaze from HER and fixed his eyes on his friends, who stared back at him.
"What?!" he asked more annoyed than he would like to admit.
Namira giggled.
"You were staring at that woman for ten minutes in a row. You could easily win a contest," Kamon answered with mock annoyance. But his smile betrayed his amusement.
"What contest?" Obi-Wan asked, perplexed.
Namira giggled louder.
"A staring contest."
Namira leaned to Kamon and whispered something into his ear. As she spoke his smile grew wider. Obi-Wan felt himself at the center of some conspiracy.
"So, Obi, you like her, huh?" Kamon asked with a sly smile.
"What if I do?" Obi-Wan answered with a question, challenge evident in his voice.
"If you like her so much, invite her here," the other Padawan suggested.
"No," Obi-Wan refused, turning bright red. "I…"
"Then I will do it." Kamon waved his hand at the woman.
SHE threw a curious glance their way, which Obi-Wan didn't mind at all, but unfortunately SHE wasn't the only one noticing Kamon's hand. People at the adjacent tables turned to look at him. A couple of young calamarian women giggled, putting their hands over their mouths in an identical gesture – they probably were sisters. One man shook his head like a man who sees a mentally diseased person or a wayward child.
"Are you crazy?!" Obi-Wan hissed, grasping Kamon's hand and pinning it down. When he was sure Kamon wouldn't play this trick again Obi-Wan released his hand, throwing him an exasperated glare.
"All right," Kamon conceded, crossing his hands over his chest in annoyance. "Have it your way."
"You're a Jedi," Namira interjected in a tone that implied that the Jedi were the bravest, the smartest and all other things. "So go ask her for a dance."
Obi-Wan threw her a glare but internally he started to waver. Silence followed while he tried to decide what he should do. On one hand he was a Jedi and it meant he had to keep neutrality; but on the other hand what could possibly be so awful if he danced with her?
He threw her a wary look – in case she was watching him: in a dim light, surrounded by smoke slowly licking at her feet – she seemed to be a ghost of an unearthly beauty, a nymph that came from clouds. She held her glass in one hand with an inexpressibly elegant gesture, the other hand under her chin – her gaze on the band yet so far away. He suddenly became curious in what wonderland could she be now…
BUT the word mercilessly broke into his mind She is a representative of a party on this Force-forsaken meeting, I shouldn't become friends with her. Or more than friends – a thought blinked.
But this way you could learn more about her, and Arones as well, another voice said in his head – this voice he used to count as his own, too. Besides Qui-Gon told you to go out – read: have fun!
I can't…
Yes, you can. Or are you too shy? the voice mocked.
What am I doing sitting here talking to myself? Obi-Wan wondered.
"Are you going to sit here all day or will you ask her for a dance already?" Namira asked in sullen voice and pictured a pout on her face. This was too much – the three of them, including that voice in his head, finally got to him.
"OK, I will do it." Hope I'm not getting myself into anything. Obi-Wan stood up, gave his friends one last glare and headed towards HER, nervously trying to straighten his tunic as he went, hoping his face wasn't too red.
******************
"Would you like to dance?"
She raised her eyes - misty-green in the subdued illumination of the club - to look at him. He thought that they were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. She nodded mutely in acceptance; few stray locks of hair fell on her forehead and she brushed them away with a swift yet graceful move. Then she rose - her dress flowing around her in a cascade of dark-green silk - and took the hand he offered.
He led her to the dance-floor, his heart dancing, his mind not believing in such luck. She followed him without a word until they stopped. Cloudy smoke and slow music drowned them in their sweet delusion. She put her hands on his shoulders and he wearily, somewhat hesitantly, wrapped his arms around her, as if he were afraid she would disappear. They started to sway, obeying the fluctuating rhythm of music. He took an unsteady breath when he felt her stroking his neck tenderly.
"Relax," she said, smiling up at him, her eyes sparkling with humor. And something else that he couldn't quite read - desire? Admiration? "I don't bite. Not here anyway."
He smiled and relaxed a little, still self-conscious.
"So tell me your name, o handsome stranger," she murmured. Her mellow voice enveloped him, penetrating his very soul.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi. And may I have a pleasure to know your name, my beautiful lady?" he replied, matching her tone.
"Anisa Tontri," she whispered, her lips so close to his ear that he could feel her hot and moist breath.
The delusion was complete - it cradled him, took the reality away, the magic sound of music and feeling of woman in his arms made up his universe, and he drifted away with them. He felt her soft lips on his cheek, then on his lips. The sharp wail of the Force's warning made him jerk. She looked at him, surprised, questions lurking in the depth of her eyes.
"I… umm… Sorry." Words seemed to abandon his mind, he blushed - embarrassed.
The song ended and Obi-Wan led Anisa back to her table. He helped her sit down and was going to walk away but she still held his hand, forcing him softly - yet persistently - to sit down next to her. The waiter materialized at the table - half human, half insect - he looked so much like the previous one that Obi-Wan couldn't discern was it the same one or not. The waiter put menus before them but Anisa shook her head and said in the tone of an expert:
"Bring us Anadorian wine."
"I don't think I should…" Obi-Wan tried to protest but she cut him off.
"You must taste it. It's very rare," she said. "And it will do you no harm," she added with a smile.
"This is the point, lady, this wine is very rare," the waiter chattered. "You've already had pretty much of it. We don't serve it so much."
"I'm paying for it," she snapped out and glared at him coldly.
The waiter bowed slightly - offended and somewhat disgusted look on his face, telling how of much he was tired of whimsy clients - and hurried away to bring the order.
"Anthropomorphic insectoid," she muttered angrily, not quite under her breath.
"Why are you swearing like this?" Obi-Wan asked, partly out of curiosity, partly to lighten the mood.
"I'm not swearing," the glint of laughter returned to her eyes. "I just named what he is."
Obi-Wan just shook his head at this. The waiter returned with two glasses of wine on a tray. He carefully put them before Anisa and Obi-Wan and hurried away. The young Jedi took his glass and examined its contents: the wine had a deep-red - almost crimson - colour, its astringent scent pleasantly tickled his nostrils. He noticed Anisa watch him and became confused. She brought her glass up and said:
"For you."
They sipped their wine. It had rich taste, reminding of vast sunlit fields. Though Jedi didn't drink much - only on some official banquets or something of this sort - Obi-Wan was able to understand that it indeed was very special wine, and it was rightfully expensive.
Though the spell of their dance was all but gone, Obi-Wan was very aware of the young woman's hot body next to him. The wine coursed through his system in a warm tide making him feel relaxed and slightly dizzy. Her lips were enticing him, promising sweetness and pleasure. He wanted so much to kiss her! But something was holding him back.
What should he do? He bit his lip in frustration and glanced at his friends on the other side of the club, but they offered no solution or support - they were engaged in an intense argument. If this building collapsed they probably wouldn't notice it, Obi-Wan thought wryly. His gaze returned to Anisa's face. She was looking at him expectantly. He was being torn apart by his own wishes, and he despised himself for not being able to make a decision. To distract himself from these thoughts, he started to listen attentively to the new song the band was now playing. A young man, dressed in black, was singing:
"You can always trust your inner feelings
'cause they always tell the truth
Where did it get you, then your analyzing
Just do what feels right for you
If you take life as a crazy gamble
Throw your dice take your chance
You will see it from the different angle
And you too can join the dance
Make it real not fantasy
Fantasy
Make it real not fantasy
Fantasy oooh yeah
Did you ever have a secret yearning
Don't you know it could come true
Now's the time to set wheels turning
To open up your life for you
As you know there's always good and evil
Make your choice don't be blind
Open up your mind and don't be trivial
There's a whole new world to find
Make it real not fantasy
Fantasy
Make it real not fantasy
Fantasy oooh yeah
Did you ever have a secret yearning
Don't you know it could come true
Now's the time to set wheels turning
To open up your life for you
If you take life as a crazy gamble
Throw your dice take your chance
You will see if from a different angle
And you too will join the dance
Make it real not fantasy
Fantasy
Make it real not fantasy
Fantasy…"
The song suddenly seemed to be some kind of a sign for him. 'Take what this woman offers,' it told him. What the heck! he thought. I have a beautiful woman next to me and what am I doing? Sitting debating with myself whether I should kiss her or not. Don't be a fool, Kenobi. Take your chance.
As if on cue, she leaned closer to him. Their lips met - hesitantly at first - the kiss deepened, became passionate.
The warning flared in the Force, an alarm went off in Obi-Wan's mind. But he didn't care for it anymore.
Nothing in the universe mattered anymore.
*******************
The song up there belongs to The Scorpions and is called "Make It Real"
