Hit the Streets

After a long shower and a proper meal, you feel like you’ve put at least some of your vulgar afternoon behind you. Hannah’s gallery invite looms and you’d rather be doing anything else than attend - even stay in with Samia, you admit to yourself - but the demon was clear that you couldn’t hide in the hotel room without suffering consequences for you and your friends. You didn’t bring anything nice enough for such an event, so Samia lent you a fancy silver dress from her bottomless suitcase. However, since you are both taller than her and far less daring in your fashion choices, it feels dangerously high on your thighs. You fidget with the hem and pull it down repeatedly. But whether demon-aided or not, it feels as though it climbs back up and exposes more of your smooth brown-skinned thighs each time you let go. It’s a bit of a fashion mistake to wear one of your bras under the dress, but otherwise the rings and chain would be clearly visible. And Samia is in the same situation, so at least you look silly together. You wish it was colder so you could justify a coat, but you suspect the demon would find an excuse to remove it.

After hearing about the subway and feeling the demon’s power firsthand, Samia was willing to pay extra for a cab even though it was a particularly long ride. It was an underground gallery far from the city’s downtown and your hotel, and the cabbie made you double-check the address before he pulled away from the curb.

“Whatever you two ladies are up to, be careful with it.” He met your eyes in the rearview mirror. You glanced over at Samia, but she wasn’t listening. She was staring out the window, lost in thought. You gently took her hand and she squeezed in return. But didn’t look your way. You couldn’t blame her for that, you could barely look her in the face either.

In the aftermath of the demon’s visit, you hadn’t found the courage to ask her about what the demon told you at the park. About Samia’s secret… crush? Love? There was no way you could ask her now, in front of the cabbie, so you both rode in silence across town.

The gallery was in a converted warehouse in what had once clearly been a blue collar section of the city. The neighborhood was in the process of converting to something new, but wasn’t fully there yet and the old rust and grit was apparent in several places. The cabbie scoffed at the fashionable crowd as he pulled up.

“Guy I knew worked half his life pulling a press in there. Look at what the place has come to.”

Samia snapped back at him as she shoved money through the slot. “At least we won’t go home smelling of chemicals.” You believe she would talk to him like this, but you can understand why she might be a little stressed after the events of the day. The cabbie doesn’t respond while you climb out, although you clearly hear him muttering “Bitch” under his breath before he pulls away.

“Jaz! Sam!” Hannah’s voice cuts through the noise of the folks chattering on the sidewalk and the thumping bass from inside. She flies out of the crowd to pull you both into a big hug. She is taller than you and lean, with a runner’s frame, and she buries your face in her curly blonde hair. The blonde hair stands out from your foursome of friends, her height, hair, and her lighter skin are byproducts of her half-American heritage. Samia, shorter than you, practically ends up in her armpit, but she seemed just as happy to see Hannah as Hannah was to see you both. But still, you can’t help but feel a little irritated. It was her idea to travel to this city in the first place, and without that you wouldn’t be in this mess. You break the hug before she feels your piercings and kiss her on each cheek. “Where were you guys all afternoon? Maryam and I were getting worried!”

Your cheeks flush hot at the memory of the day. Hannah was already perceptive enough to be a spy, but your reaction was like shooting off fireworks.

“Jasmine… what were you up to, girl…?” Hannah was a dedicated gossip and once she caught the scent of potential drama, she sunk her teeth in like a pitbull. Fortunately, the only one with the tenacity to shake her off the scent was Samia.

“Jasmine had a bike accident in the park.” She repeated her lie from earlier. Hannah’s eyes darted back and forth between you and Samia.

“Nope. There’s something more to this.” Hannah wagged her finger in your face with a smile behind it. Once again, Samia came to your rescue.

“He was verrrrry cute.” She offered. “He gave Jasmine his number.”

You shot Samia a murderous look. Was that close enough to breaking the rules? You silently begged it wouldn’t be. But Hannah took your icy glare as confirmation of her instincts.

“Aha!” She clapped as if winning a huge victory. “Give me the number, we’re inviting him tonight!”

“I already deleted it.” You hope it will close off Hannah’s chase instinct and change the subject, but the arrival of the fourth member of your group bailed you out a third time.

“What did I miss?” Maryam asked. Maryam was slightly younger than your group, and acted it in all ways. She had never needed the hand of a demon to drag her towards a drink or a man’s bed. But she was also stunningly gorgeous and kept a hair cut specifically to attract comparisons to Cleopatra, so drinks, men, or trouble in general never had any difficulty finding her either.

“Jaz got run over by a hot boy on a bike, then tossed his number.” Hannah was so excited to have something spicy to add that she nearly tripped over herself to spill it.

Maryam just shrugged. “Jasmine wouldn’t know what to do with a boy if one crashed right into her, no surprise there.” She was holding three champagne flutes, and your friends laughed at her little dig while she gave one each to Samia and Hannah, keeping the last for herself. They knew you didn’t “Come on, I found some fresh boys inside. Jasmine can have the ugly one, since he won’t be getting any tonight regardless.” They laughed again and you **** yourself to join in. Although Samia squeezed your hand as the hotel ravishing was on the forefront of both your minds. If the others only knew…

To your eyes, this “gallery” seemed indistinguishable from a nightclub. A bar, a DJ, strobing lights, thumping bass, a dance floor, sweaty bodies… There were some paintings against the outer walls half-heartedly lit from small spotlights, but hardly anyone was paying attention to those. Your friends moved into the crowd, apparently heading for one of the small roped off areas on the opposite side of the room. You tried to break from your group to go look at the artwork, but as soon as you turned away, your demon gave a harsh tug on the chain to make you follow them.

The revelers pressed in on you from all sides. They were “dancing” to the music, but to your eyes there was little that separated it from mindless writhing. Even with your small heels you were still shorter than most of the other dancers, so you reached out to grab Samia’s hand to keep from being separated in the shifting mass of people. As you did so, you felt the demon grab your wrist and yank it sideways. Instead of grabbing Samia’s hand, you end up grabbing a palmful of a taller man’s butt. You let out a pathetic humiliated squeak that would have nearly ended you if anyone could have heard it over the loud music. You pulled your hand back, but felt it rebound as if dragged by a stretching rubber band, and your attempt to pull it farther only tensed it into a harder slap on his backside.

He spins to face you and you cringe, expecting to be called out for such inappropriate behavior. But when he saw you, his eyes did a quick sweep over your body and down your top and the annoyance quickly left his face.

“Hello to you too, beautiful.” You wouldn’t say you have a type seeing as you’ve never really had a relationship. But if you did have a type, he wouldn’t be it. His head is shaved, as is his chest under his splayed open silk dress shirt. His muscles show that he at least takes care of his body, the ass you unwittingly grabbed ahold of was quite firm in your hand. But he is obviously a lecher - the intense scent of his overapplied cologne made it clear that he came here for a woman to bed, and the hunger in his green eyes made it equally clear that he thinks he found her.

“I’m so sorry! My mistake! I… thought you were someone else!”

“Come on, let’s make some more mistakes!” He teases, gesturing for you to come dance.

You try to back away, shaking your head as you do. “No, it’s ok I need to find my friends. Sorry, again!”

“Your loss.” He shrugs, and turns away.

At that moment, the DJ’s sound system sticks and the same lyric loops over and over through the room.

“JUMPJUMPJUMPJUMPJUMPJUMP-” The crowd stops gyrating and boos him, but he’s a professional. Within seconds he had switched tracks and the dancers synced up with the new beat immediately. But you know that was no coincidence. The demon was sending you a message. “When I say ‘Jump’...”

Not wanting the demon to punish you for perceived defiance, You push forward again to find the man. You catch him about to make a move on another woman and for some stupid reason this makes you a little jealous. You reach out to tug on his shirt sleeve and are silently thankful when you don’t inadvertently grope him again.

“I changed my mind.” You say over the loud beat. “Maybe I want to make a mistake?”

He smiled and took your hand, pulling you in close. As he leaned in, you heard the demon’s voice again.

“I told you I’d teach you how to shake that gorgeous ass, let’s have some fun.” And on the last word you felt the demon’s hands join your partner’s real hands on your body. The demon’s hands gripped your hips, dragging them side to side, up and down, trying to match the beat. At first it made you look uncoordinated and drunk, though that was not unusual in this crowd. But when you relaxed your muscles and let the hands take control, then you were moving perfectly. You’d danced for fun before, but that was always alone or with some friends, never with a man, never in public, and never like this. You wouldn’t even watch a music video like this. The hands spun you around, then shook you so you were grinding your ass into the man’s crotch, which he was loving. The others around you started to whoop and cheer as you put on a show with him, twerking like you’d been doing it your whole life.

“Jasminnnnnnne! WHOOO!!!” Maryam hollered as your friends emerged from the crowd, having come back to find you. Maryam and Hannah clap along with the beat and laugh slightly at seeing you so out of character, only Samia’s face reflects the worry of knowing that you’re not in control. And she only gets a moment to observe in shock until suddenly she is dragged or shoved forward into your arms. “And Samia too!?!?” Maryam cackled with glee, downing her champagne in one gulp, then snatching Samia’s from her hand and drinking that too.

Samia looks like you did, as if she’s on the deck of a boat pitching on hurricane waves, until you yell over the crowd.

“You have to let go!”

“Let go of everything, yeah!” Maryam passes off the glasses and starts dancing herself, but based on how goofy she is, you can tell the demon is - for now - holding to his promise and leaving her be. Samia’s skepticism is obvious even in the strobing lights, but you see her hips start to match your own as she lets the demon move her as he does you. Your partner grabs a hold of Samia possessively, publicly claiming both of you in a way that would usually have drawn an elbow and a lecture from Samia. But, cowed as you both are by your predicament, you just release and ride the energy of the room and the movements being pushed on you. You, your friends, and the male hangers-on are becoming the center of attention on the dance floor. And as much as you hate to admit it, it is fun being the center of attention. You even smile - authentically.

You lose control of the situation and don’t hate that you have. Whether guided by the demon or your partner, soon you find yourself dancing in close with Samia, your leg finds its way between hers and you can feel the heat coming off of her body, and your own rises to match. The DJ starts to slow the beat down to give the crowd a break, and you feel your partner gently directing you and Samia towards the back edge of the room. You glance over your shoulder at Maryam and Hannah, but they don’t notice you departing, engrossed as they are dancing with two other men.

The man leads you to a bar at the edge of the room with his arms around your waist and Samia’s, and raises three fingers to the bartender. Whoever the guy is, he seems to recognize that order and immediately lays out three whiskey drinks on the bar for you.

“Don’t you need to pay?” You ask, and the man laughs at your naivety.

“Not if you own the place.” He grins.

“I don’t take drinks from strangers,” Samia declares.

“Do you take kisses from strangers?” Before Samia can respond, the man dives in to kiss her on the lips instead. Her eyes go wide, but once again she doesn’t drive her elbow into his stomach. “I guess you do now. But I think one’s enough. I’m Danny.”

Samia wipes the anger off her face as best she can and introduces the two of you. “This is your gallery?”

“Yeah, I bought it about six months ago and started fixing it up.” Danny says as he passes you both the drinks. You initially move to decline, but a sharp look from Samia reminds you not to. Danny watches as you take a sip. The drink burns your throat horribly, but you smile at him and that seems to satisfy him. “What do you think?”

“It’s… loud.” You try to **** down another drink to escape the embarrassment of saying something so vapid, but he just laughs.

“It sure is.” He taps the bar again, and the bartender passes him the bottle. “I know somewhere quieter.” He rises and moves off, not bothering to ask if you want to join or even looking back to confirm that you have. He just seems to expect that you’ll follow, and the sudden tug on the chains ensures that you and Samia both obediently trail along in his wake.