A/N: Once again, this update comes with a bunch of trigger warnings including DATE RAPE DRUGS and ATTEMPTED RAPE. So, for those of you uncomfortable with these two subjects, I suggest you wait for the next update. For those of you who choose to read on, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. FYI, for those of you who DO go clubbing, NEVER accept drinks from other people. With those warnings out of the way, enjoy the chapter! Also - some people have been asking who 'Da Densest' is ( refer to chapter 6 for more information ). That is Mr Karasuma's nickname. To conclude, reviews, subs and favorites are appreciated. And I hope everyone can guess the identity of Nagisa's savior! *wink wink* If not, I'll reveal it in the next chapter!
The line to get into Primal wraps around the block and the guitar-heavy tracks suit the club's name, the music pounding through the darkened space with a primitive, seductive beat. The décor is an eclectic mix of brushed metals and dark woods, with the multi-hued lighting creating animal-print silhouettes. On the dance floor, men and women writhe with Cirque du Soleil flexibility. At the bar, guys are doing body shots off girls. In the corners, a whole lot of making out is going on. Nagisa smells sweat and perfume and a few things she can't identify. Building-wise, there are two floors. The bottom is for dancing and socializing, and the top is for VIPs, maybe. An iron railing circles the second tier, allowing a clear view for those at the edge of a separate sectioned-off area. There, Nagisa makes out black leather couches and chairs, iron tables and —
The target.
He sits on one of the couches, facing Nagisa, with black suited body guards beside him. He is talking to a willowy brunette across from him and laughing. Their target is casually dressed, in a severe military greatcoat over a flannel shirt and a pair of holey blue jeans. A black New York Yankees cap covers his auburn hair. The girl next to him is tall and slender, with a cascade of straight brown hair. Her lips are lush and red, her cheekbones high and sculpted. She's wearing a crimson silk Vera Wang with a strapless bustier bodice, an open back, and a tiered skirt that ends a few inches above her knees.
Nagisa nudges a flushed and bright-eyed Gyaru English in the stomach and points. She follows the line of Nagisa's finger and claps, looking very hot in a slinky gold halter dress.
"Goody!" Rising on her tiptoes so that she is poised at Nagisa's ear, she says, "Time to enact Operation Boys Will Cry. Stage one — make them notice us."
"This is a bad idea," Stern Lecture mumbles, looking very uncomfortable in an electric blue figure hugging mini-dress.
Mistress frowns. She's dressed in a pretty LBD, with delicate starbursts stitched over the Venetian silk, like stars twinkling in the night sky. "I thought we were supposed to be getting information."
"And so we shall," Gyaru English tries to sound soothing, but a pit of anxiety worms its way into Nagisa's stomach.
"What about spying?" She demands. Their ticket to busting their target, who is reportedly abducting women from the club.
Nagisa has chosen a gorgeous little Valentino cocktail dress to wear to Primal. It's a black-and-white strapless confection, with a tight bodice that accents her tiny waist. A thick black band and a dramatic lace bow adds just the right hint of girlish insouciance. Nagisa has been wearing more dresses lately, ever since Akabane figured out that she's a girl.
"We can't really spy on them if they're not spying on us, now can we?"
Warped logic, but okay.
OBWC, stage one, part A: doing a bump and grind on the dance floor. They hit the dance floor en masse and are quickly swallowed into the mass of writhing dancers, quickly finding themselves pressed between steamy male bodies. There, Gyaru English somehow manages to force everyone else to take a few steps back, leaving them in their own private circle. Anyone watching from the top floor will be unable to miss them.
Nagisa has no idea how to dance gracefully. Or attractively. But she watches the way the other girls move their arms and hips and mimics them. She must succeed, because all four offer her smiles of encouragement.
After what seems an eternity, Nagisa motions Gyaru English over and when she reaches Nagisa, she says, "I don't see the point of all this."
"Oh, you will soon enough. But listen, whatever you do," The blonde says, moving behind her and placing her hands on Nagisa's hips, "Don't look up. I'm about to enact stage two. Stage three will commence soon after that, with no more action required on our part, so be ready."
With a force of will Nagisa doesn't know she possesses, she glances at Gyaru English over her shoulder rather than at the boy. "Wait. There are more stages?"
"Here we go!" Like the sex kitten Nagisa is beginning to think she is, Gyaru English spins around her and crooks her finger at a group of ultra-cute random guys.
Stage two: fanning the flames of jealousy.
The guys eagerly join the little circle. Within minutes, masculine hands are roaming, and soft bodies bump into hard bodies. Nagisa is uncomfortable and embarrassed, and actually has to slap a boy's fingers away from her butt, but she keeps dancing, determined to see Gyaru English's plan through to the end. Not once does she look in their target's direction.
Finally, she begins to lose herself in the music. Her arms lift over her head, and her eyes close. Nagisa sways, spins — and smacks into a hard chest. Nagisa peers up, ready to tell whichever guy has decided to come after her to back off. She —
She never should have doubted Gyaru English.
Violet eyes, soft and friendly stare down at her. Handsome and sporting a boyish grin, the boy manages to coax a sweet smile out of Nagisa. Hard hands settle on her waist, jerking her closer… Closer… Until only a whisper separates them. The brunette, who has followed the boy, casts a look that can freeze the Pacific at their target, and Nagisa offers her an apologetic smile, which is pointedly ignored.
"Hi," He says, completely ignoring the girl, whom Nagisa presumes is his girlfriend. "I'm Spencer."
"Hi," Nagisa squeaks. Gotta get that under control. Adrenaline fizzles in her veins. "My name's Nagisa."
Spencer pilfers a beer from the tray of a passing waitress, takes a swig, and hands it over to Nagisa. The thing smells like battery acid and moldy bread, and Nagisa crinkles her nose as she takes a gulp. Fire scorches its way down her throat and she coughs until the brown liquid threatens to squirt through her nose.
Spencer laughs. "You're funny. You choke louder than you speak."
Nagisa laughs along with him through a series of coughs, using her hand to hide her smile. After she's stopped hacking, he says, "C'mon. Let's take a break. I'll get you some water."
Arm clamped firmly around her waist, Spencer half carries half drags her through the mass of writhing bodies. Her eyes are so heavy, and Nagisa has to lean stiffly on him for support. The ground seems to be heaving up and down under her feet. Spencer grows blurry, her surroundings losing their definite edges. She hears the click of a key in a lock, and then she is led through into a room. A massive sleigh bed dominates the space, the wood dark and the linens a soft cream. The rest of the furnishings match the bed and the accents are brushed gold. For a second, she seems to float in the air, then the soft silk presses into the skin of her bare back.
She frowns. Something is wrong. She's come here to do . . . Something. But she can't remember what. A dreadful fog seems to have invaded her brain, clouding her judgment. A wave of dizziness washes over her, and it's all Nagisa can do to remain conscious as the realization hits her. "The beer . . ."
Spencer spiked the beer. She's only taken a mouthful, but the drugs are already racing through the traceries of blue veins that map the insides of her skin, bringing the poison in her blood to her brain. She shifts her free hand to knock him out, but her fingers feel brittle, disconnected; and despite being an inch above her measly height of five feet, he is strong. Someone must have trained him, because in a too-fast movement he grabs her wrists, pinning them above her head. She slams into the bed so hard the air is knocked from her lungs and her head spins like a satellite out of orbit. A crushing weight cuts off Nagisa's air and a hand is shoved up beneath her skirt, groping and bruising. Panic grips her and she thrashes, trying futilely to buck him off. She can't breathe, her lungs shuddering with sobs. Spots dance before Nagisa's eyes; her chest burns.
No . . . Please, stop . . .
And then he coughs, spraying Nagisa's face with blood. She cringes away, repulsed by the warm, sticky rain. Spencer collapses on top of her, and mustering the last of her dwindling strength, Nagisa manages to shove his body off hers, dimly registering the knife in his back. Nagisa tries to crawl away, but her limbs refuse to respond, and the walls of the luxurious room around her starts slipping away.
"You're okay," A familiar voice is saying, and then warm, calloused hands are frantically wiping at the tears that stream down her cheeks. "It's okay, Nagisa. Everything will be okay now, I promise."
Nagisa focuses as hard as she can on the only face she can see. It is contorted with anger that not even a thick layer of makeup can mask. The brunette from the club gathers her limp form into her arms, easing an arm underneath Nagisa's knees. She is still muttering apologies in a slightly unsteady voice. Nagisa releases her grip on consciousness. Everything dissolves like spiral galaxies through an unfocused telescope, everything except an alabaster oval and two specks of gold.