The gas gauge on the dash is completely gone, and I wonder how I'm supposed to know how much gas I have without the gauge. Pulling into a gas station just to be on the safe side, I'm surprised to see that there isn't even a spot to put gas in.
It doesn't take me long to figure where I'm at, and I point my car north, and enjoy the speed and power of my remodeled car. To my surprise, the radio announces the date and time, letting me know that I was in the Shadow World for less than thirty minutes. Angela had said that time runs randomly between the two.
Walking into my tiny 32nd story apartment, I find a brand new cell phone charging on my kitchen counter. I'd been told my old one had been destroyed in the accident. Turning it on, I see that I have five new messages. The first one is from the company that manages this apartment complex, asking if I want to apply my last payment to the rest of the year, or want a refund. The next four were from Sheila Lance, my boss, demanding to know when I'll be back in.
I call the management company up first, and they inform me that I can only pay one year in advance, and that the rest will be refunded to me. In a daze, I hang up. Who's been paying all of my bills?
The next call isn't as pleasant.
"Your medical leave was burned up a week ago, Mr. Snow," Sheila informs me rather bluntly. "By all rights, I can fire you right now, and be well within the company's rights."
Part of me is tempted to quit right away. I have a rather hefty check coming in from the management company, and rent is covered for the next year, but Angela had told me to live life as I usually do.
"I'll be in first thing in the morning," I tell her, trying to act sheepish, but I'm still full of energy from the excellent sex with Angela in the Shadow World.
"Are you laughing at me?"
Crap!
"No, Mrs. Lance, just trying to multitask while talking. I'll be in first thing," I repeat, and hang up before she can say anything else to me.
Sleeping tonight is impossible, I realize, as I lay for a couple hours staring at the ceiling.
Well, it may be a Wednesday night, but maybe I should go out. Normally I'm pretty self-conscious, but for some reason I'm feeling confident, and walk to a bar that's a couple blocks down the road. A large sign out front declares that it's ladies' night, and I smile as I walk in.
I pull out my wallet to pay the cover charge, but the cute redhead at the counter looks at me dreamy eyed, and stamps my hand.
What's going on? Have I changed that much? Shrugging my shoulders, I walk in, and order a cocktail. The bartender, a male, makes me pay, but I don't mind.
The music is blaring and the dance floor's packed as I watch people shaking and moving to the rhythm.
"I don't remember seeing you here before?"
I turn and look down at the owner of the voice. The girl—well okay, she has to be at least twenty-one to be in here—stands only as tall as my chest. Her hair is a warm chestnut brown, and travels the short distance down the length of her back. It's too dark in here to make out her eye color, other than to note that they're dark. In her hands is a blue or purple drink—Now why couldn't my colorblindness have been fixed with the rest of my vision?—that's half-full.
"I was bored, so decided to come out and find some entertainment." The way she's looking at me, makes me feel even more confident about myself. She's not the cutest girl here, but definitely above what I consider to be my league. She finishes her drink, and I decide to play things up. I've heard people talk about not buying a girl a drink unless you really know them, but some new instinct says to go for it.
Pulling the drink from her hands, I take a quick sip, and know that she's drinking a purple hooter. I make eye contact with one of the wandering servers. She turns away from whoever was giving her their order, and rushes to me.
"A purple hooter for the pretty lady, here," I tell her, and she rushes off to fulfill my wishes. Wow, this new power could really go to my head. She returns within a couple minutes and hands the glass to me. I hand it to the short girl still standing speechless next to me, and turn back to the waitress. "How much?" I ask, and she shakes herself as if coming out of a dream.
"How much?" she repeats my words. "Oh!" It takes her a moment to gather her wits enough to tell me how much I owe, and I pay her, with a decent tip.
"My name's Becky," the brunette next to me yells at me to be heard over the music, "and you shouldn't have had to pay full price for that. It's ladies' night."
"Lyden," I reply, holding out my hand for her to shake. Her hand is tiny compared to mine, but her fingers are soft. Just because I feel like it, I bend over, and place a soft kiss on her knuckles. Her knees give way, and I have to move fast to catch her. "Are you alright?" I ask, concerned. I feel a little weak after moving so fast, and she has to blink a few times before she can answer.
"Wow, a real gentleman." Her voice is breathy, as I help her back to her feet, and I notice that she's somehow managed not to spill her drink.
To my surprise, she quickly downs her drink, and pulls me out to the dance floor. At first I hedge a little, as I've never been much of a dancer, but I feel the music in my bones, and soon a large group of women surrounds me. They push Becky away from me, and I can see that she looks downtrodden as two other women replace her. For some reason, I can feel my energy draining out of me.
At this point, I know that I can have any woman here, but Becky had been the first one to talk to me, so I push the two women away, until I'm back in front of the brunette. She gives me an odd look, and then drags me out to the smoking section. I don't smoke, never having been able to afford the habit, but I don't begrudge those that do.
As soon as we're outside, she turns, grabs the front of my shirt, and pulls my face down to hers. As her lips touch mine, I feel some of my energy return, and smile, while I place my hands under her thighs, and lift her up. She's so light, that I hardly even notice her weight, as our tongues dart in and out of each other's mouths, and her legs grip my hips. I can taste her drink still on her tongue, as well as mint. I find the source of the mint a second later, as I steal the gum I didn't know she had, right out of her mouth.
"Hey! Give that back!" she commands me, smiling, her arms around my neck.
"You'll have to take it back," I inform her, and you'd think I just gave her the world, by the grin that blossoms across her face. Had I really thought she wasn't that cute a little while ago? She mashes her lips to mine, and we fence with our tongues for a bit, before I let her take the gum back. My cock is rock hard, and I know she can't miss it poking into her.
"Get a room!" a male voice shouts, and Becky pulls back, her cheeks red.
"That guy's completely out of her league," I hear another, feminine, voice say not so quietly. I grind my teeth, as Becky tries to wriggle out of my arms, but I won't let go.
"Yeah, there's probably something wrong with him," a different voice says.
"Wanna have some fun?" I ask the attractive woman in my arms, and she nods uncertainly. "Play along." I wink at her, then turn, force her up into the air, and set her softly on my shoulders. It's been years since I've given anyone a shoulder ride, but she's small enough, that she feels quite comfortable sitting up there.
"There is something wrong with me," I tell the two couples. Glancing at the two girls that'd spoken, I feel another drain of energy as I focus on them. I can sense their knees trembling under my intense scrutiny. "This woman is the only one I've found that knows how to properly take care of me. Skanks of your caliber just don't know how to handle a tool my size."
"Come on, dear," Becky says right on cue, "Why don't we go back to my place, and I'll remind you of just what I'm capable of. Let's stop wasting our time with these floozies."
It takes all my effort not to laugh at the insulted faces of the four people in front of us. I turn and walk back inside, hearing the women demand that their men stand up for them, and the men saying they will as soon as they're done with their smoke.
I have to duck to walk back in, even as short as Becky is, but I keep her on my shoulders, as I head back to the dance floor.
"I really meant that I want to take you home," she yells into my ear, and I do an about-face, and head for the exit.
Word about what happened outside has already made it in to the entrance, and I notice no shortage of women giving Becky an envious glance, and even a few men giving her a calculating one. Something tells me she's not going to have a problem picking up men here anymore.