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Oh, yes. A little thrill ran through Mastema's body as she felt Raphael's jealousy and anger grow. This was what she lived for.This was her heaven now. Delicious.
"Yeah, Masa. You can call me Raph. That's fine," he answered. Raphael's anger began to fade. He smiled and he walked into the club ahead of them. Fast-paced music blasted out as the door swung open. Smells drifted out into the night and she inhaled them - arousal, anger, alcohol, rising emotions that swirled together on the cold air. A Malakov cocktail of feelings that went straight to her head. Oh, yes, this night was going to be fun.
Zack caught the door before it closed, gesturing for her to go in first. "After you, m'dear," he said mockingly.
She inclined her head to him. "Thank you, good sir," she answered sardonically and strutted inside.
It was better than she could have imagined. The bar took up a quarter of the large room, set up in a semi-circle against the wall. There was a crowd in front of it, waving fistfuls of money at the disheveled bartenders. A DJ occupied one corner. The rest of club was dedicated to the dance floor, where flickering strobe lights illuminated the throbbing, pulsing, grinding crowd, bodies crushed together in a semblance of animalistic mating.
"Let's dance," she breathed, taking Zack's hand and pulling him toward the dance floor.