Chapter 11

Mark stepped out of the shower, the hot spray doing little to cool the nervous energy thrumming beneath his skin. Tonight was his first real date with Ria and he was determined not to screw it up.

He towel-dried his hair, already sifting through his closet. Jeans. Definitely jeans. But what shirt? He finally settled on a dark blue Henley, paired it with his favorite leather jacket. He combed his hair, checked his reflection—

Not bad.

But as he headed downstairs, a familiar wave of doubt crashed over him. How much did he really know about her? Yeah, they had chemistry. They could talk for hours. But ... what about the real stuff? Dreams. Fears.

Don’t overthink it, Mark.

He found Lida in the kitchen, humming as she stirred something that smelled like cinnamon and cloves—a comforting, familiar scent that did little to ease his anxiety.

“Where to, all dressed up?” she asked, her gaze lingering on his outfit.

“Got plans with Ria.”

“A date, huh?” There was amusement in her tone.

“Something like that.”

“Have fun. And be careful.”

“Always am,” he said with a wink, heading for the door— escape before those inevitable questions started.

“Mark,” she called out. “Wait!”

He turned to see Lida approaching him, her expression serious. She reached out, her hand clasping his.

”Athara__ luthien__ tariel,” her voice echoed throughout the room. ”Harn en galad, harn en elenath, harn en taur’ohtar.”

A faint glow emanated from her hands, a warmth that spread through his body, tingling beneath his skin.

“What was that?”

“A charm,” she explained. “For protection.”

“Seriously, Lida? Is that really necessary? I mean—”

“Just ... for my peace of mind,” she said, her voice softening.

Mark wanted to argue, to tell her he could handle himself. But he saw the worry etched on her face and he knew it was pointless.

“Fine,” he sighed, smiling “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”

She nodded, her expression relaxing slightly. “Have fun, Mark.”

Mark found the Italian place tucked away on a quiet street— “La Trattoria,” the sign above the door announced in elegant script, its warm glow spilling onto the sidewalk. The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses already made his stomach rumble, but that might have been anticipation.

He took a moment, checking his reflection in the restaurant’s window. He ran a hand through his hair, adjusted his collar, and offered himself a reassuring nod.

Inside, the hostess, all smiles and sleek black dress, glanced at him over a tablet. “Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes.” He gave out his details.

The hostess consulted her tablet, her fingers tapping the screen. “Ah, yes. Right this way, please.”

She led him through a maze of tables, and he took in the atmosphere. It wasn’t pretentious— more ... comfortable elegance—Sleek, modern decor with soft lighting and the murmur of conversation creating a pleasant buzz. The place was packed— a good sign, he figured.

The hostess stopped at a table tucked away in a corner, a single candle flickering on the crisp white tablecloth.

And there she was.

Ria. Already seated, but rising as he approached, a smile lighting up her face, those golden-brown eyes brighter than the candlelight.

A red cocktail dress hugged her curves, the neckline plunging just low enough to be alluring without being over the top offering plenty of cleavage. Her long, brown hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves. Her makeup was minimal – a touch of mascara, a hint of blush, and a soft pink lipstick that emphasized the fullness of her lips.

“Hey, you,” She leaned in, her lips brushing his cheek, and for a dangerous moment, all he could smell was her perfume— jasmine and vanilla and her, that intoxicating mix that sent a familiar shiver down his spine.

“Hey yourself.”

She settled back into her seat, and as he slid into his own, he noticed the lilies in the vase between them— their delicate fragrance a counterpoint to the earthier, muskier scent that seemed to emanate from her. She was...

“You know, I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” Ria said, her smile softer than usual.

“Me too,” he admitted. “You look ... amazing.”

“Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

“Figured I should make an effort for our first official date.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their waitress, a friendly woman with a warm smile. “Good evening, and welcome to La Trattoria. Can I start you off with some drinks?”

“Wine, please,” Ria said, scanning the menu.

“Make it two,” Mark added.

The waitress paused, her pen hovering over her notepad. “Certainly. Red or white, sir?”

“Uh...”

“We’ll have the Barolo,” Ria said smoothly.

“Excellent choice,” the waitress chirped, disappearing into the crowd.

“You’re not a wine person, are you?” Ria asked.

“Uh ... well, I’ve never ... really tried it.”

“Never?” Her eyes widened in surprise. “Not even once?”

“Nope. Always been more of a beer and pizza kind of guy.”

“Well, tonight, you’re in for a treat. Barolo is one of my favorites. It’s light, crisp, a little fruity...” She winked. “Kind of like you.”

“Like me?” He scoffed playfully. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Relax, I’m just teasing,” she said, smiling. “But you do have a certain ... sweetness about you, Mark.”

“Sweetness?” He pretended to be offended. “I’ll have you know I’m a dangerous man.”

“Oh, I’m sure. A real heart breaker. Pretty sure you fooled lot of girls.”

“Not really. But I do have reputation.” Mark did fool around a lot but he never was cruel or broke anyone’s heart. Since he never committed in the first place.

“A reputation for what?”

“For being irresistible, of course.”

“Right,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And I’m the Queen of England.”

“You could be,” he countered, unable to help the way his gaze swept over her, taking in every detail, the way that red dress hugged her curves. “You certainly have the looks down.”

“Trying to will my dress off with those eyes, cowboy?”

He shrugged, a grin spreading across his face. “Can you blame me?”

She laughed, a sparkle in her eye as she leaned back in her chair, that delicate neckline dipping just a little lower, offering him a more generous view. “Is this better?”

“Definitely has the regal bearing now.”

“You’re impossible,” she said laughing again.

He had come to love the way she laughed, so freely and easily.

“Enough of that for now.” She said. “Tell me about your classes. Anything exciting happening in the world of ... economics?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “Unless you find supply and demand curves thrilling?”

“Well, at least you’ll be raking in the big bucks someday. What do you do for fun, when you’re not crunching numbers?”

“I like to hike. There are some great trails in the mountains outside of town. It’s a great way to clear my head.”

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to try hiking.”

“We should go some time.”

“I’d love that.”

As they were talking, the waitress arrived with their glasses of wine, placing them gently on the table.

Mark picked up his glass, swirling the pale golden liquid, studying its delicate aroma. He took a tentative sip, the cool, crisp flavor surprising him.

“Not bad.”

“Told you you’d like it,” Ria said, her eyes twinkling.

The restaurant buzzed around them, but he barely noticed. He was focused on her — on the way her lips curved when she smiled, on the way the candlelight danced in her eyes. Every laugh they shared just cranked up the pull he felt towards her.

“So,” he asked, “You’re into CG, right? Think you could turn me into a superhero in my pics?”

“I could certainly try,” She smiled. “But you already look pretty dashing, Mark.”

“Well, I’m glad I’m living up to your expectations but let’s be honest, a little superhero touch wouldn’t hurt.”

“Want to channel your inner Captain America?”

“Chris Evans sets a high bar.”

“It’s all about the suit,” she leaned in, her eyes flicked suggestively over his frame. “And trust me, you’d more than measure up.”

“In that case I’m game. Let’s do it.”

Ria leaned back, giggling. “I’ll see what magic I can work, then.”

“What kind of superpowers would you give me, though? Super strength? Flight? Mind control?”

“Hmm ... mind control.” She tapped a finger against her lips, a mischievous glint in her eyes, then shook her head. “Tempting, but I think I prefer you just the way you are.”

“Just the way I am, huh?” He leaned closer. “And what way is that, exactly?”

“You’ll have to figure that out yourself.” She took a slow sip of her wine, those gold-freckled eyes holding his, a silent promise hanging in the air between them.

The restaurant, with its soft lighting and the murmur of conversation, faded into a pleasant blur.

“I’m looking forward to that ... discovery,” he said as his gaze lingered on her lips. “Though, full disclosure, those lips are kinda making it hard to focus on anything else right now.”

She laughed. “You sure know how to flatter a girl.”

“Can’t help it. Your lips have been on my mind all day.”

“Intriguing.” She leaned in. “Maybe a closer inspection is due later?”

“I’d be all for that.”

“Well,” she replied, her smile softening, “Maybe we should talk about something ... less distracting for now?”

“Good point. Don’t want to make headlines on our first official date.”

“Exactly. So, what’s the plan after your business degree?”

“Still figuring it out.” He swirled his wine, enjoying the way the candlelight played on the ruby liquid. “Business, for sure. But part of me wants to ... travel. See the world.”

“I get that,” she said, nodding. “I get the travel bug, though. Seeing new places, different cultures...” She paused. “It’s definitely on my bucket list.”

“What is stopping you now? Besides college, of course.”

“Well, I have certain ... responsibilities ... obligations.”

“To the association?”

“Yeah.”

“From what I heard it sounds exhausting.”

“It can be,” she admitted. “Crescent ... it’s a lot, sometimes. It’s not just about learning. It’s about tradition, responsibility, upholding a legacy ... generations of it.”

“Do you ever feel ... trapped?” he asked, hesitant to pry but genuinely curious. “I mean, it sounds like your life is pretty much mapped out for you.”

“Sometimes.” Her voice was soft, barely audible above the murmur of the restaurant. “But it’s also ... home, you know? Family. I believe in what we stand for...” She trailed off, her gaze drifting towards the candle flickering between them. Then, as if shaking off those thoughts, she met his eyes again. “But yeah, there are moments ... I just want to... escape. See what else is out there.”

The waitress arrived, her notepad poised. “Are you ready to order?”

“I think I’ll have the spaghetti carbonara,” Ria said, her eyes scanning the menu.

“Good choice. And for you, sir?”

He scanned the list of unfamiliar Italian dishes— completely lost. “What would you recommend?”

“The lasagna is quite good,” Ria suggested.

“Alright, I’ll go with that.”

Soon their food arrived, a welcome distraction.

Ria’s eyes lit up as she took a bite of her pasta. “Mmm, this is divine.”

“Yah, It’s pretty good.”

He watched as she twirled the noodles around her fork, a satisfied hum escaping her lips.

“You really love your pasta, huh?”

Ria nodded, her mouth full of spaghetti. “Mmm, ‘dis ish my absholute fav’rite,”

“I can tell,” he chuckled. “You eat it with such ... passion.”

She stuck out her tongue at him. “Mind your own plate.”

Mark shook his head, grinning.

An hour melted away. Conversations— easy, funny, effortless— mingled with comfortable silences. Her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled when she described her dream of visiting Japan ... it was easy to forget about everything else.

“You know, you’re going to be hungry again in an hour if you keep drinking like that,” he teased as Ria finished her second glass.

“Don’t worry about me,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively. “I have a bottomless pit for a stomach.” She flagged down the waitress. “Another glass, please.”

“Whoa, there, speed racer. Trying to drink the whole place dry?”

“You know,” Ria said, ignoring his warning. “I can’t believe you’ve never had wine before. Have you no appreciation for the finer things in life?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because we moved around so much growing up. Never really had the chance to develop a taste for ... fancy stuff.” He shrugged. “Got used to what was familiar. Comfortable.”

“That’s so different from me,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve always loved trying new things, new places...”

Her words slurred just slightly. Her cheeks were flushed a delicate pink, and that mischievous glint in her eyes had intensified. Yeah, she was definitely tipsy. Maybe I should have been more insistent about her easing up on the wine...

The waitress arrived with another glass of wine for Ria, who accepted it with a grateful smile.

“Mark,” she began taking a long sip, “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Don’t take offense, I’m just curious...” She hesitated as if choosing her words carefully. “How come you seem to know so little about ... well, about how things work in our world?”

“The moving, like I said—”

“No, I get that,” she interrupted. “I know tons of people who aren’t part of any association, but they still know the basics, the rules, power players, the history. But you...” She shook her head. “You seem ... clueless.”

“Can’t argue with that.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

He paused, trying to figure out how to explain the strange bubble he’d grown up in. “It’s not just the moving. I was never really exposed to this side of things. My aunt ... she’s always been pretty guarded about all this.”

“Your aunt?”

“Lida. She raised me. She’s always been ... protective, I guess you could say. Especially about this whole other world. Never wanted me to get involved.”

“Protective?” Ria frowned slightly. “Why?”

“My parents’ deaths ... they weren’t ... natural ... th-they were murdered It’s why we moved so much. Lida was trying to keep me safe.”

The frown vanished. Understanding softened her eyes as her hand reached across the table. “I’m sorry, Mark. That must have been rough.”

“It was,” he agreed. “But Lida, she was amazing. She stepped up, took care of me. But she also kept me shielded ... kept me ignorant” He paused. “She has her reasons or at least I like to think so.”

She seemed to understand, to accept his explanation without any questions.

“I’m sure they would have been proud of you,” she said softly, her thumb gently stroking his.

He smiled, “I like to think so.”

He found himself wanting to tell her more, to confide in her, to share the burden of his secrets. But something held him back, a flicker of Lida’s constant caution— Be careful, Mark — still burning within him.

“Enough of my sob story,” he said, forcing a lighter tone. “What about your parents? What are they like?”

“They’re good. Always supportive. Always there for me.”

Mark heard the subtle shift in her voice, losing some of its earlier lightness. He could tell there was more to the story, but didn’t press her.

“So, what were you like growing up? I bet you were a little rebel...”

“Oh, you’ve got me all wrong,” Ria said, her eyes twinkling. “I was a model child. Straight A’s, never missed curfew, always followed the rules.”

“No way,” he laughed. “You? Miss Goody Two-Shoes?”

“Hey, someone has to uphold the family reputation. Besides, rebellion’s overrated. I’d rather be the one making the rules than breaking them.”

“That sounds dangerously ambitious.”

“Though I did have a blue hair phase. My parents were... not happy.”

“I bet that was a sight.”

They finished their dinner, chatting and laughing the whole time. Mark got a glimpse into Ria’s past—her obsession with drawing as a kid, her teenage rebellion with blue hair (which her parents hated), and her drive to chase a career in animation. He was totally captivated by her stories, her energy, and her passion for life.

“So,” he asked, as they stepped out of the restaurant, cool night air a welcome contrast to the warmth they’d created in that candlelit corner, “Where to next?”

Ria pointed across the street. “See that building?”

He followed her gaze. A two-story brick building pulsed with music, the neon sign above the entrance flashing red and blue. ‘The Groove.’

“What is that?”

“It’s a dance hall.”

“Dance hall? Like a club?”

“Kinda,” she said, nodding, her words slightly slurred. “But it’s more ‘bout the dancin’. They got live music, diff’rent styles ev’ry night. Tonight’s salsa.”

He noticed the way she swayed on her feet. The third glass of wine had definitely tipped the scales.

“Maybe ... not the best idea?” he suggested gently.

“Don’t be boring, Mark,” she protested, tugging on his hand. “Come on, it’ll be fun! I love to dance.”

“I get that,” he chuckled. “But I think you’ve had enough fun for one night. How about we go—”

“No, no, dancing!” Ria insisted, her enthusiasm unwavering already dragging him across the street, her laughter echoing in the night air,

“R-Ria, wait...”

He followed Ria through the entrance, the music already a physical force that made his chest thrum along with the bass beat.

The foyer was packed, bodies jostling for space the scent of sweat and perfume thick in the air. Mark hadn’t expected so many people.

“This is going to take forever,” he groaned, eyeing the long line manned by a burly bouncer.

But Ria was already weaving her way through the crowd, heading straight for a woman seated behind a desk.

The woman lit up when she saw Ria, her face breaking into a wide grin. She leaped from her chair, engulfing Ria in a bear hug.

“It’s so good to see you, Ria!”

“You too, Sarah.”

“This is Mark. He’s with me.” Ria, her cheeks flushed, pressed herself against his side, her smile infectious.

“Ooh, so this is the guy you’ve been gushing about,” Sarah said, her eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

“Sarah! Behave.” Ria gave her friend a playful swat on the arm, then leaned in, lowering her voice. “Mind if we ... skip the line?”

“Of course, of course,” Sarah said, waving them through. “Have fun, you two!”

“Thanks, Sarah. You’re the best.”

Ria squeezed Sarah’s hand, then brushed a quick kiss against her cheek before leading Mark past the velvet ropes— ignoring the glares of those still waiting in line.

The dance hall was a sensory overload—music blaring, bodies everywhere, and lights flashing off the brick walls. The air was thick with sweat, perfume, and the cloying sweetness of spilled drinks.

The dance floor was a sea of moving bodies, couples twirling and swaying to the rhythm of the salsa music.

Ria led him to a small table near the dance floor. Even here, the music vibrated through the floor, through their seats.

“Looks like you know everyone here,” he yelled, leaning close to her ear.

“What can I say?” Her breath, warm on his neck. “Everybody loves me.” She licked his earlobe — a quick dart of her tongue that made his whole body tense and then pulled away with a mischievous grin.

Then she pointed towards the back of the club at the bathroom. “five minutes,” she mouthed.

He watched her go— that red dress a beacon in the sea of moving bodies. It was impossible not to stare as she moved— those hips swaying, that ass...

Just before she disappeared, she glanced back over her shoulder and winked at him.

Damn, this girl is something else, he thought, a smile spreading across his face.

“Anything to drink, sir?”

He shook his head, glancing towards the hallway where Ria had disappeared, then back at the waiter— a harried-looking guy who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“I’m good, thanks.” He shook his head, already feeling a little ... overheated. And with Ria already tipsy, he figured staying sober wasn’t a bad idea.

He glanced around the club. The place was buzzing with energy. On the dance floor, people were moving to the music, some trying their best at salsa, others just letting loose and having fun.

She was making her way back now— a smile lighting up her face as she weaved through the crowd. She didn’t even bother sitting down.

“Come on, slowpoke. Let’s dance!”

Before he could protest, she’d grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor.

“I don’t know how to salsa,” he shouted, leaning close to her ear so she could hear him.

She laughed, her breath tickling his ear. “There are no salsa police here, Mark. We can dance however we want. Besides, I’ll teach you. It’ll be fun.”

“You’re going to teach me?” He teased, raising an eyebrow. “Will you be a strict teacher?”

“Ohh Shushh,” Her own hands rested lightly on his shoulders. “Just follow my lead, okay? We will take it nice and slow.”

“Got it.”

He tried. He really tried. But his feet felt like lead, his movements clumsy as he stumbled over her steps.

“Relax, Mark,” she said softly. “Don’t think so much.”

She swayed, her hips moving with a natural rhythm that made his head spin. He tried to mimic her movements, the beat pulsing around them, and slowly, that awkwardness started to fade.

He found himself ... enjoying this. This dance. The closeness. Her scent— jasmine and that other unnameable thing that made him want to forget everything. He allowed his hands to roam a little more freely, his fingers tracing the curve of her hips, savoring the feel of her soft skin beneath his fingertips.

Ria was a fantastic dancer, her movements fluid and precise. The way she moved her hips, the way she pressed against him, made him wonder if she’d had professional training. She definitely had the body for it.

“Twirl me.”

Mark obeyed, spinning her gently, his hand lingering on her waist as he pulled her back towards him.

“See?” she said, her eyes sparkling with approval. “You’re a natural.”

“Not really. Just following your lead.”

“Don’t be so modest,” Ria said, nudging him playfully. “You’re doing great.”

“If you say so,”

“I do say so,” she insisted, her smile widening.

They moved together— closer now— lost in the rhythm, their bodies swaying as one. The crowded dance floor faded away, the pulsing music a distant backdrop to the intense connection that sparked between them. For those few minutes, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

“Okay, hotshot, you’ve got the basics down,” Ria whispered, her breath warm in his ear. “How about we try something a little ... different?”

“Different? What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know, anything you want. What’s something you’d like to try?”

His gaze dropped— to her hips, then lower, to that curve of her backside that had been teasing him all night. He couldn’t help himself— his hands slid down, his fingers tracing the outline of her curves.

“Mark!”

“Hey, you asked what I wanted to do. I just thought we could make things a little more ... fun.”

“Uh-huh,” Ria murmured amusingly. “So, how is it? My ass, I mean.” She tilted her head back, her laughter echoing in his ear. “You’ve been staring at it all night.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, please. You think I don’t notice you staring?”

“Staring? Who’s staring? I would never.”

“Oh, come on, Mark.” She giggled. “You haven’t exactly been subtle.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re lying.” She tilted her head back, those eyes narrowing playfully. “I’m very observant, remember?”

“Well your observation skill took a dunk tonight. I have been distracted by your breasts to notice anything else.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup. Those things are dangerous, Ria. Haven’t even had a chance to properly appreciate...” His gaze dropped lower. “ ... The view back here.”

She threw back her head and laughed. “So, now that you have? What do you think?”

“Hmm, let me see.” Mark gave her ass a playful squeeze, his fingers exploring the soft curves, the firmness beneath the fabric of her dress.

“What are you doing?” She gasped, a playful flush on her cheeks.

“Shh...” he hushed her. “Inspecting. Important research here.”

She giggled. “Well, officer, what’s the verdict?”

“Let’s just say...” He leaned in again, his lips ghosting along the shell of her ear. “Perfect.”

“Perfect, huh?”

“Absolutely, utterly perfect.”

Ria’s smile was pure seduction as she turned in his arms, pressing her backside against him.

“Whoa, what are you doing? I thought we were supposed to be salsa dancing?”

“We are,” she said, her hips grinding against his with a slow, sensual rhythm. “This is just ... a new interpretation.”

“You’re just teasing me,” he accused, his hands tightening on her hips.

“Don’t you like it?”

“It’s cruel,” he groaned softly.

“Good,” she breathed, sliding back up, her body a friction against him that made him ache, made him want to —

“Sometimes,” she whispered, her voice a mix of innocence and seduction, “it’s fun to be cruel.”

“Maybe for you,” he muttered, his breath catching. “It’s torture for me.”

She laughed lightly. “I sure hope so.”

He buried his face in the curve of her neck— inhaling her perfume, the muskier scent of her heated skin, the taste of salt and vanilla.

Ria arched her back and tilted her head, granting him better access, her soft moans fueling his desire. He moved his kisses lower, his tongue tracing a path along her collarbone, his teeth gently grazing the delicate skin.

The music throbbed around them, the heat of the dance floor mirroring the inferno burning within them. Mark’s hands roamed, exploring the curves of her body beneath the thin fabric of her dress.

But then she was the one taking control. Her fingers intertwined with his, guiding them on a journey exploration. She pressed his palms against her breasts — soft mounds that molded against his touch, her nipples hardening. He heard her moan, felt her hips grinding against his with renewed urgency as she pulled his hands lower—

Her stomach. The curve of her waist. Lower. He traced the smooth expanse of her thighs, reveling in the heat of her skin, the tremor that ran through her at his touch.

He traced the smooth expanse of her thighs, reveling in the heat of her skin, the tremor that ran through her at his touch. The music throbbed, a distant echo compared to the rhythm of her breath, of their bodies moving as one.

Their connection thrummed, a powerful current that amplified their connection, blurring the lines between their bodies, their desires, and their very souls. He couldn’t think straight. He just wanted to bury himself in her, to feel her around him, to lose himself in her.

“You know what I’ve been fantasizing about all day?” Ria whispered in his ear, her voice husky with desire.

“What?”

“You. Me. In bed.”

“Oh yeah?” He leaned in, his gaze meeting hers— a challenge, a promise. “And what were we doing?”

“You on top of me, your hands all over my body...” She trailed off, her breath hitching. “Your cock buried deep inside me, filling me up, making me scream your name.”

Her words—whispered, filthy, detailed— painted pictures in his mind that made him want to forget everything, about the crowd pressing around them, about everything except the way she was looking at him, the way her body moved against his, the way she made him feel—

“I want to feel you everywhere, Mark,” she purred, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “Touch me. Taste me, make me come apart in your hands.”

“Fuck, Ria ... You’re driving me insane.”

“Good,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. “That’s exactly what I want.”

“Screw it...” He couldn’t take it anymore. “We should go.”

“Now?”

“Now...”

He led her through the throng of dancers, the music fading as they reached the exit. He was already picturing her naked, her body writhing beneath him, when she stopped on the sidewalk, her fingers digging into his arm.