Rain Dance - Part 2

Rain Dance - Part 2


2.
So we’re speeding out of the centre, and I mean proper fast, and she says to me, all nonchalant like,

‘So you’re tagging along?’

‘I guess I am,’ I say, seeing her now close up for the first time and finding myself utterly mesmerised.

‘This is Ned,’ she says, nodding to the guy next to her.

‘Hi Ned,’ I say, all friendly like. He nods back, coolness personified.

I’m sat across from the two of them in the back of a limo, my back to the driver in front who looks remarkably like Aloysius Parker.

I look across at my fellow passengers. He’s all designer second hand charity shop whilst she’s pure Debbie Harry right down to the looks. I’d put her mid 40’s and him 10 years younger. I’m Jack, by the way, Jack Burn. Youngest of the Burn clan from the back end of Leith. Mum’s a banker, Dad’s a wanker. You can guess the rest. I’m 20 years junior to the lady sat across from me, but keen not to let that put either of us off.

‘I’m Jack,’ I say, brightly with a smirk on my face.

‘Good,’ she says and looks out of the window.

A minute passes that seems like five and I can’t help myself but ask where we are going.

‘Somewhere cool,’ she says, then closes her eyes and appears to go straight to sleep. Ned has turned to look out of the window so I do the same.

It’s 45 minutes later when we pull up outside a castle that is intensely lit outside with huge fire lit braziers blazing against the now darkened sky. Other cars are arriving as we do, a seemingly orchestrated arrival for who knows what.

The car stops as smooth as you like and the chauffeur is by her door, opening it gently and whispering something nice and quiet like in her ear. She pats his arm and then casts me an intense look that just says follow me.

So there we are, her in front, me behind and Ned bringing up the rear. We enter a huge hallway with electro pop blasting out across a dimly lit landscape designed for the hiding. I glimpse at people dressed in as many different ways as you could imagine from cool to outrageous to debonair to straight and everything in between. I have no idea what the hell is happening but I just step in line behind her feeling strangely protected.

We enter through huge wooden doors, opened for us by a pair of gladiators, into a huge room filled with candles, flowers, flashing lights and naked torsos. Heavy dance music laced with trance bounces off the walls, and she slips off her long black leather coat, which Ned takes from her, to reveal a slim body clothed in a simple white t shirt, tight to the touch.

I’m now a slobbering lapdog. She simply needs to click her fingers and I will happily beg.

She turns, clicks her fingers, and I intuitively fall on all fours and await her next command.