Ava never released my arm.
She dragged me through the parted sea of bodies like Moses with a hard-on, nails sunk so deep into my forearm I felt the blood bead and trickle warm down to my wrist.
Every step she took was a declaration: heels cracking marble, hips rolling slow and lethal, hair whipping behind her like a black battle standard soaked in enemy blood.
The strobes painted her in freeze-frames: tits straining mesh, nipples cutting diamonds, thighs flexing, ass bouncing just enough to make grown men whimper.
Then it hit Aber.
"OH MY GOD, YOU'RE HER!" Aber shrieked over the music, eyes wide, already half-drunk on something pink and glowing.
She grabbed Ava's wrist, brave or stupid, I couldn't tell, and yanked her toward the dance floor. "Girls' circle. NOW. You're dancing with us or we're all dying of jealousy."
Melissa, Sina, and the petite Asian girl materialized out of the strobe fog like backup dancers from hell.
