The White Owl
The White Owl
By Robyn Michaels
© 2009
The dark haired man leaned further back into the shadows of the booth in which he sat watching the White Owl’s dance floor. To be more precise, he was watching the lithe, sexy blond gyrating to the sultry music blaring from the DJ’s booth. The club’s lights painted the pale hair myriad colors as the dancer moved amongst the other patrons. Jameson lifted his glass of whiskey and sipped the warm amber liquid, enthralled by the movements made by the object of his obsession, Lucas Roark.
The blond was soon dancing solo in a small clearing amidst the sea of writhing bodies. A look of pure bliss graced the sharp features of the dancer, softening angular lines and drawing one’s gaze to heavy lidded grey eyes, flushed cheeks and full, pouty red lips. Straight blond hair brushed against broad shoulders as he swayed to the jazzy rhythm pounding through the club.
The dancer lifted his arms above his head, closed his eyes and descended into the music; the crowd disappeared in his enjoyment of the sounds and his solitary dance. His body undulated, his arms lowered, his hands caressed his own body with a lover’s touch. The blond drifted in a sensual world of his own creation, lost in the moment, in the music.
Like the rest of the crowd in the White Owl, the dark-haired man was captivated by the vision before him. Jameson’s breathing shallowed in response to the sexy display on the dance floor. He wanted to reach out, grab the blond and claim him before anyone else had the opportunity. He wanted to mark the pale, delicate skin for all to see that this one, this sensual creature, belonged to him alone.
The music abruptly changed to a fast number, jerking Luc from his introspective state. His steps never faltered as he immediately matched the rhythm of the new song. He threw back his head and laughed lustily as a tall, bald man shimmied up behind him and wrapped his arms around Luc’s waist. The blond twisted and wiggled his way out of the confining arms, continuing to keep pace with the music. The unknown man slipped back into the crowd with a disappointed expression. Luc’s gaze sought out Jameson sitting in the shadowy booth, a sultry smile graced his full lips as he motioned with both hands for the dark haired man to join him on the floor.
Jameson’s lips tilted in a small smile as he slid from the booth, his eyes locked on the blond. He stalked through the other dancers, his vision narrowed on Lucas solely. He saw his lover shiver in excitement and anticipation as he strode forward. He knew he must look like a predator on the trail of tasty prey as he progressed through the undulating bodies but he was beyond caring. His focus was the blond in the center of the crowd and nothing would stand in his way.
Jameson had always loved watching Luc dance; it was, after all how they’d met in this very club. Jameson, like the bald man earlier, had stepped up behind the blond and wrapped his arms around Luc. Unlike the other man, Luc turned into the embrace, looked up and simply said, “What took you so long?”
On reaching the man he loved, and in a repeat of their first encounter, he wrapped his arms around Luc’s trim waist and pulled the blond tightly against him. Luc twisted in his arms, threaded his fingers through Jameson’s dark hair and pulled his head down. Jameson captured Luc’s mouth in a soul searching kiss, thoroughly ravishing the other man’s mouth before pulling back with a smile.
“Happy anniversary, baby.” He pressed another gentle kiss to Luc’s rosy lips. “Two years ago tonight you caught me when I fell.”
“No, I just held you close as we both fell, Jamie.” Luc’s grey eyes were focused completely on Jameson’s brown orbs. “Falling in love never felt so right.”
