3 The Plot

Mark had texted Lana, and he was sure she had received his message. He smiled; he couldn't wait to see her beautiful curves. He couldn't wait to hold her in his soft embrace. She was exceedingly beautiful, and he was very confident when he walked through the doors of every Clubhouse. He loved the stares the men gave to her, that lustful look. He loved when he held her by her waist or when he gave a gentle squeeze on her buttocks while these men looked at them both. Mark always found it funny when these shameless men in the club could only stare at his woman but never dream of touching her. Maybe Lana was right about him thinking that way. He didn't mind how slutty she dressed; to him, it was always to make him happy. He always thought that whatever she put on was to make him happy and feel like the luckiest man on earth. He knew she would prepare on time; she didn't like it when he was upset with her, and she had no excuse for not being there on time since he was sending her a ride. A classy one at that. He was very wealthy, and it was only natural for anyone he was close with to show up with a grand entrance. He wanted to keep her background private since it was a party for the wealthy, although lower-class individuals still had the approval to show up. Mark remembered the time he met Lana. It was at the same club, and she seemed to have been waiting for someone, but it looked like her date didn't appear. She felt extremely uncomfortable at the party but had this high confidence that made her stand out. It was difficult to tell that she was from a lower background because she brought herself high. She didn't show her worries and always sounded calm and classy. He thought of the strangest thing ever; he didn't know why he remembered their first encounter, but he knew it was a lot of emotions poured down that day. He thought he could bring it to life; he wasn't sure if it was a good idea, but he could never really know until he tried. He was going to bring it to life at the club.                             *** Lana felt a bit irritated and uncomfortable. Something was captivating about his confidence and calm demeanor. His dark, tousled hair fell effortlessly, framing a face that seemed chiseled by an artist's hand. A strong jawline, hinting at determination, led to lips that curved into a mischievous smile, exuding a charm that was hard to resist. But it was his eyes that held the true enchantment. They were like two pools of sparkling hazel, glinting with intelligence and playfulness. They seemed to hold a secret. She didn't know why she was feeling the same emotions she had felt the same day she first met him, but she thought that the meeting was awkward and friendly at the same time. But why was he trying to remake the whole conversation and meeting? She felt a lot of mixed emotions flowing through her heart at once. She didn't know if she should tell him to stop or if she should play along. It was a lovely day, and he was recreating it. Did he always have to be funny and sweet? She decided to engage him further, testing the boundaries of their verbal sparring. "So, Mark, what brings you here? Are you always in the habit of barging into people's privacy uninvited?" He chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Let's just say I have a knack for finding interesting company," he replied, dripping with subtle charm. "As for you, my dear, what's your story? What brings someone as intriguing as yourself into a place like this?" He was engrossed in this, playing along like he had met her for the first time. Who knew his plan of recreating their first encounter would be full of recollections and smiles? He thought she would have forgotten the exact details of what happened that day. He thought she would get annoyed and not want to partake in such. But here she was, acting like the same classy lady he met a few years ago. She leaned back, feigning indifference, though his question had piqued her curiosity. "I could ask you the same thing. But I'm not one to reveal my secrets so easily," she replied, her tone laced with a hint of mystery. As much as she could remember her side of the lines and how annoying he was back then, she wasn't sure if she remembered every detail of what happened but decided she wouldn't give it much thought. Anywhere she finds a cliffhanger, she immediately stops and asks for something else. His looks also gave the same impression that he was trying to recollect memories of that day before Lana finished talking. It was as if both of them knew what they were thinking; in a way, it was their way of feeling relaxed in such a tense moment. Mark's smile widened, and he tilted slightly as if relishing the challenge. "Ah, a mysterious one, I see. Well, I enjoy unraveling mysteries, so consider me intrigued," he said, his voice filled with genuine interest. "Perhaps, if you're willing to let your guard down, we might uncover some fascinating things together." Both of them wanted to laugh but couldn't; they were both reliving their first encounter at this bar. Was it fun, or was it just them trying to restart things? Many circumstances had threatened their relationship, and his family also didn't acknowledge her. Lana paused, contemplating his words. His proposition had an undeniable allure, an invitation to explore a world beyond the surface. A part of me resisted, wary of his intentions, but another part yearned for the thrill of unraveling Mark's true intentions. With a measured tone, she finally responded, "Maybe, just maybe, I'll let you in on a few secrets. But only if you prove yourself worthy of my attention, Mark." He grinned, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Fill me in on the process," he declared, his voice filled with confidence and excitement. What would you prefer… a second with me? seven minutes, seven hours, months or seven years?" He smiled. He looked like an upgraded devil when he smiled, as pretty as sin. She pondered his proposition, carefully weighing each option. Finally, her voice, a mixture of defiance and intrigue, broke the silence. "Seven minutes," she mused, her eyes locking with his. It was too short for a long crave, I suppose." He reached into his pocket and retrieved a slip of paper, an address. The anticipation coursed through my veins as he extended it to me. "Come," he whispered, his voice dripping with seductive allure. "In less than an hour, meet me there." The slip of paper rested in her hand, its texture smooth against her fingertips. She turned away from him, her eyes still fixed on the address.