Page 5 of Raphael
This is gonna be one hell of a night. I can feel it in my bones. And if this Claire chick is as dynamite as her pics suggests, maybe she’ll end up back at my place later for some real fun. For now, it’s time to get this party started.
Well, this is it. No turning back now. I take a steeling breath and a tentative first step downward.
The heavy doors swing shut behind me, sealing away the last slivers of light. I have to grope blindly along the clammy stone walls to keep my balance as I descend the winding staircase.
I reach for my phone to use the flashlight, but it slips from my clumsy grasp. I hear it clatter down the steps, the sound echoing through the inky darkness until it goes silent. Now I have no illumination at all in this windowless stairwell.
With one hand trailing the slimy wall, I carefully make my way down the remaining stairs. The muffled throb of music grows steadily louder the further I go. I sincerely hope this date is worth the trek.
At the base of the stairs, I halt and glance around. My supernaturally sharp eyes adjust quickly to the enveloping darkness. Stacked crates and shelves packed with bottles of expensive wines and spirits surround me—looks like I found the club’s legendary wine cellar.
I spot a faint glow on the ground and kneel to inspect it. It’s my phone, its screen now a spiderweb of cracks from the long tumble down the concrete steps. I press the power button, but the device remains dark. Completely dead. So much for using the flashlight to navigate this subterranean maze.
With the broken phone now useless, I slip it into my pocket and stand up, peering into the gloom. Now to locate that hidden passage connecting to the dance floor...
I’m gazing into the shadows along the back wall when a sudden noise whips me around, muscles tensing. That almost sounded like... a voice? But who else could be down here?
I hold dead still, listening intently. The cellar remains silent as a tomb. Probably just the music vibrating the pipes or something. With a shake of my head, I continue searching for the way into the heart of the club. I didn’t come this far to get spooked.
Still, though, I can’t ignore the uneasy twist in my gut. This place radiates a strange energy I’ve never encountered before. Like a subsonic vibration just out of range of the senses. It sets my teeth on edge.
The echoing silence presses close from all sides, heavy and oppressive. I’ve never been fond of enclosed spaces. Hurrying my steps, I comb along the rows of dusty bottles and crates. Where the hell is this secret door, anyway? The suspense has my pulse racing like I just downed a case of the club’s stimulant elixir.
“Who goes there?”
I freeze, every muscle tensing. The voice echoes through the darkness—female, cultured, with a musical lilt—a British accent.Oh, fuck!My unease vanishes, replaced by bewilderment. Somehow, Claire found me. If this isn’t a sign of fate, I don’t know what it is.
I decide to play the stranger’s card and get things started.
“My apologies, miss,” I reply, injecting charm into my tone. “I seem to have lost my way down here. Would you be so kind as to show me the exit?” Look at me,poshingoutto please this woman.
Her response is a snide laugh. “Am I supposed to believe that? Reveal yourself this instant, intruder!”
I grin into the blackness. She has spirit, this mystery woman. I’m liking Claire more by the second.
“Now, is that any way to speak to a guest?” I chide playfully. “Perhaps if you asked more politely, I’d be inclined to introduce myself properly.”
I hear the swish of her dress, the click of heels on concrete as she moves closer. She scrutinizes the darkness, blind to my presence.
“I promise you, sir, you don’t want to cross someone of my connections,” she feistily threatens, and yet, I detect a quaver of nerves beneath the teasing bravado.
I clench my teeth tightly together, willing myself to remain calm and collected. “Well darling, that goes both ways. You should be careful not to cross me either.” A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth before I allow it to soften again. “But how about we call a truce? This bickering gets us nowhere.”
The silence returns, tense and considering. I hold motionless, waiting for her response.
Finally, a resigned sigh. “Very well. A temporary truce it is. Now state your business here or kindly show yourself out.”
She’s really committed to the role, I see. All right, I’ll play along. No problem whatsoever—whatever floats her boat.
Grinning victoriously, I begin moving through the maze of shelves towards the sound of her voice. She makes no move to flee as I approach. Either incredibly bold or incredibly willing, this one. Both traits I find impossibly alluring in a woman.
As I draw near, her form takes shape through the gloom—tall and curvy, back held in perfect, elegant posture. A wavy ponytail spills over one bare shoulder, whispering past pale sculptural curves I cannot help but admire.
Her slender waist is accented by the clinging velvet dress, ending at long legs that are left temptingly bare. Unable to resist temptation, my eyes follow those toned lines up her arresting silhouette, drinking in the vision of beauty before me, eager to be explored.
How she brings sensual form to life so effortlessly, I cannot fathom. But I know already my hands will linger over every inch, chasing the promise of delight embedded in her graceful frame.
But it’s the face that entrances me most—chiseled cheekbones, full lips curled in a slight scowl, and eyes that blaze with inner fire. Even through the pitch-darkness, that penetrating gaze pierces my soul.
