Walking into the loud den of the nightclub, the pounding music made it nearly impossible to hear what Marie was saying. “What?” I yelled for her to repeat herself.

“I said the rapper, Crank, is performing here tonight!” She shouted, holding up a yellow flier for me to read.

I raised my eyebrows in question, wondering who in the hell Crank was.

Marie gave me her patented look of disgust mixed with pity. She always expressed disbelief over my cluelessness where the latest rapper or pop-star were concerned. We are of the same age; Marie being a year older, but our tastes in music couldn’t be more different. Marie loved rap and hip-hop, while I believed much of today’s stuff to be pure crap.

Marie quickly dismissed me as being rapper ignorant, and we continued towards the crowd just ahead.

Having become a mother at a young age, I never really got into the whole club scene like Marie and some of my other friends. However, the few that I did go to over the years, looked absolutely nothing like this one. This club made all the others look like hole-in-the walls.

Perhaps all South Beach clubs looked this way, but it was impressive, with its theme of blue, white, and shiny chrome. The upholstered sofas and chairs were of a midnight blue; as well as the carpeted floor, and the tables were all white-topped with chrome bases. The walls were towering and mirrored, and ginormous chandeliers hung from its high ceilings. However, the showstopper was a towering wall of rock that was perhaps thirty feet in height; and featured a waterfall with mist rising from its blue glowing base. I found it mesmerizing; I’d never seen anything like it.

We followed Lauren over to a small group of men standing close to the bar; where she hugged the one I assumed to be her friend, Austin. Introductions are made all around, but when I go to shake hands with one of the men, he held onto my offered hand longer than necessary. The man, Mike, just stood checking me out, eyes raking my body, and instantly rubbing me the wrong way.

His scrutiny made me feel under-dressed, and also in desperate need of a shower.

Admittedly, my jade-green strapless dress was a bit more revealing than I’d typically wear; its briefness displaying a lot of golden skin. But, it was no different than what most of the women here were wearing.

Not so discreetly, I pulled my hand back from the douche-bag’s.

He’s attractive, I guess, in an exotic sort of way. His skin was caramel hued; grayish eyes slanted, dark hair short, and a patch of dark hair lined his chin. However, and to my estimation, he could afford to gain fifteen to twenty pounds, and he was on the shorter side. I don’t like short nor scrawny men, so both would be deal breakers for me. Were I available, of course.

I immediately dismissed the douche, giving him my back as I turned to talk with Marie.

“Looks like you’ve got a bidder,” she teased, wearing a silly grin.

“Hardly,” I returned with a roll of my eyes.

I didn’t begrudge a man his look of appreciation, but I found the act of being overtly eye-fucked, uncouth and disrespectful. The douche-bag was obviously a short, scrawny, sleaze-ball.

Unfortunately, the douche’s interest didn’t wane. I kept receiving looks that I pointedly tried to ignore. However, when I angled my body to better face Marie—unwittingly causing my already short dress to rise even higher on my thigh, the douche obviously took that as a divine sign. A couple of minutes later, he made his way over to ask if I’d like another drink. I politely declined

“Come on, that’s no way to celebrate!” he exclaimed.

“Celebrate what?” I asked, being intentionally dense. I wished him far away.

“My man’s birthday!” he shouted, pointing towards Austin.

I’d noticed his penchant for using punctuated exclamations at the end of every sentence.

“That means he should be celebrating with an over consumption of alcohol, not me,” I said with a raised brow.

“That’s not how it works, we celebrate by drinking with him!” he exclaimed once more.

He seriously needed to bring it down a notch.

“I’m not yet ready for another drink, but, thank you,” I said politely, proud of my own good manners.

He ignored my good manners when the server came by, instead ordering another round of drinks for both Marie and me. I just gave a small smile in acceptance, because it seemed simplest. Persistence was a quality I normally found attractive in a man. However, douche-bag seemed the sort to buy a girl a drink, then believe it his right to hang onto her for the rest of the night.

With two lemon-drop martinis having already been consumed, fifteen minutes later, I’m totally game when Marie asked me to go out onto the dance floor with her. I moved to the beat of the music as we made our way over; arms thrown in the air, and hips swaying to ‘Drake’ blasting through the speakers. Marie was the better dancer, so I had some fun mimicking her moves, while making silly duck faces at her. I’m feeling happy and in my own little zone, when I feel a body move up-close behind me.

Darting a look over my shoulder, I see that the Douche had come onto the dance floor and invited himself to dance with me.

In my happy-state, I simply moved a few steps forward, and tried to ignore him. However, I startled a moment later when I felt a hand grip my waist, and a hot body press against mine. I instantly placed my hands over his to try and pry them from my body, but he only tightened his grip. The jerk pressed against my ass, making me want to vomit!

"Let go!” I yelled in disgust, pitching my voice to be heard above the pounding music.

But, whether he’d heard or not, he didn’t loosen his hold.

What in the hell is his problem? I’d given every sign of disinterest.

Digging my nails into the skin of his hand, I tried inflicting pain, but that didn’t seem to work. My annoyance quickly turned into alarm. I didn’t want any man holding me against my will, especially one I’d met only thirty minutes ago.

I started to struggle in earnest, trying to get Marie’s attention, and trying to get the asshole off of me. But Marie’s back was turned with her attention focused on the guy she was dancing with; oblivious to what was happening.

In my struggle, she got lost in the crowd, and I quickly lose sight of her. I glanced about frantically—trying to catch a glimpse of her, and my gaze locked with a pair of dark eyes instead.

The eyes stared straight at me, seemingly rooting me to the spot, because, I would swear that I’d suddenly stopped moving.

Then something weird happened. Like the pull of a magnet in slow motion, everything else seemed to fade into the background as our eyes connected for what seemed forever, but I knew was in reality only mere seconds. The man stood leaning casually against a nearby wall, draped in all black from head to toe, hands casually tucked into the front pockets of his slacks.

But, our lightning quick moment grinded to a halt, when I was jarred back to the reality of douche-bag damn near dry-humping me on the dance floor.

The man in black is swiftly forgotten when the asshole plants his face into the side of my neck. Ewe!

I lost my shit, throwing my head to the right in an attempt to dislodge his face, and kicking my foot back to cause him pain. It just barely grazed his leg.

I jabbed my elbow into whatever body part was closest—then hauled back and slapped him square in the sweaty forehead with my right palm. Yuck!

I felt instant satisfaction, but he still didn’t budge.

On the verge of Stop, Drop and Roll as a last desperate resort, the asshole finally lifted his face from my neck, but still didn’t let go. Anyone looking at us would probably think we were just fooling around on the dance floor; never suspecting I was being held against my will, literally.

The douche-bag’s behavior screamed of him being a potential date rapist.

However, just when I thought my attempts at physical assault had been futile, I felt him pull abruptly away, loosening his hold on me. I didn’t waste a second taking advantage of my opportunity to move quickly out of his reach. But, when I whipped around in anger to confront him—intent on kicking him in the balls, I froze.

The man in black had him gripped by the collar of his shirt, in a choke-hold by the looks of it.

The Douche sported a comical look of confusion that I registered, but didn’t have the presence of mind to enjoy, because I could do nothing more than stare.

Up close, the man in black was frigging gawk-worthy.

His dark gaze never left mine as he lowered his head to speak close to douche-bag’s ear; the little shit being almost a head shorter. And whatever he’d said must have had impact, causing the douche-bag’s eyes to move quickly back to mine, a surprised look of fright on his face. The man in black then loosened his grip on the fool’s shirt and gave him a slight shove away, as though in disgust. But, the dumb-ass stupidly turned to confront him, and got pinned with a hard look that seemed to dare him to make a move.

Expecting a confrontation, I took a few nervous steps back.

The man in black stood wearing a menacing scowl, but with his arms relaxed to his sides; stance suggesting he didn’t take the douche-bagas a serious threat. He didn’t even blink as his lips moved, saying something I couldn’t hear above the loud music, but something that was obviously effective.

Douche-bag made a smart decision by backing slowly away; pivoting towards me, then darting a quick look my way as he made haste leaving the dance floor.

Continues...