Young Love Murder Read Online Free Page A

the small dancing platforms behind the bar.
    On the dance floor are several platforms staged throughout the bottom level. Thick poles anchor the VIP area upstairs. To my delight, female dancers wearing close to nothing spin and gyrate on those poles. Small areas that open under the second level have round tables with bar stool seating in chrome and black leather. Waitresses in appropriately skimpy outfits, carrying trays of drinks, twist and spin their way between tables and dancers in a graceful dance of their own. The lights are flashing to the music as one of Miami’s hottest DJs is spinning. Strobe lights are highlighting the shimmer and sway of tiny skirts and barely-there dresses among the crowd. 
    Heading up to the VIP area, it only gets better. Booths in supple black leather line the walls. Silk curtains hanging from the ceiling between booths give the illusion of privacy. A server wearing a low slung neon mini skirt and silky black top brings drinks over as we lean over the railing overlooking the dance floor. Here, I’m in my element.
    Standing up here, watching the dance floor below, I’m looking for my next conquest. The easy, desperate chicks are always handy as a last resort, but it’s the not so easy ones that are the most satisfying. And just look at all the hot chicks below, god do I love short dresses. I’m searching for the female that gains my interest the most, not necessarily the one in the sluttiest outfit. From my vantage point, I spy a hot platinum blonde, dancing amongst a group of females that I may just have to mosey down and introduce myself to. 
    I turn to Max to let him know that I’m heading down to the dance floor, when I see that he’s staring intently towards the booths behind us. I follow his gaze to a booth where there’s a guy and girl sitting and see why he’s so enthralled. The girl is gorgeous. Even though she looks nothing like the girls I usually go for, I can’t help but appreciate her anyways. Measuring up the blonde guy that she’s sitting with, I’m not too discouraged. He looks a little older than me and most girls would probably think he’s handsome. But maybe he’s her gay best friend or something. With how well he’s put together, both his clothes and hair, it isn’t hard to believe.
    Returning my attention to the girl, with her glossy dark hair and light olive skin, my first thought is that she’s Hispanic. But quickly I realize she’s not, just a darker featured white person. Either one works for me, with myself being a mix of both.
    Max nudges me and leans over to say harshly, “Stop staring. I saw her first.”
    I nudge him back. “Did you also see that she’s with someone?”
    “Don’t care. I’m in love,” he practically moans the words, probably only half-joking. When isn’t he in love? In my opinion, it’s really sad the way he falls in and out of love all the time. Love is for morons who don’t realize how ridiculous it is to tie oneself to just one girl. I believe in having fun while I’m still young. Watching Max’s monthly mini-dramas is amusing, though. 
    We’re both still staring at her, when I notice the guy casually glance over at us. He smirks and turns back to the girl. Leaning across the table, he says something to her that I can’t hear over the music and across the space. They both get up to leave. As she walks past us, she doesn’t even glance in my direction, which disappoints but doesn’t deter me. 
    As they walk down the stairs, I lean over the railing again to watch her take the steps to the bottom. Her little black dress may not be as short as some of the others here, but I’m enjoying the view from behind. She has a great walk, confident and sexy.
    Max is also staring. “I have to talk to her,” he pronounces. This is going to be a problem. At least for him it is.
    “Max, look below, there are plenty of hot girls. Let that one go. She’s already taken,” I advise him, but I can’t help but feel the same