Page 2 of Framed Obsession

We live on the second floor. If I had a choice, I would’ve picked to live on a higher floor, but this was the only vacant apartment the building had, so we compromised.

The building we live in is on the higher end. We had our eye on it for a really long time. So, when we found they had availability, we jumped at the chance. I needed this to work because I was going to be damn near bald if I had to live with my father any longer.

My poor, tortured, plucked hair.

The apartment is perfect for Zoe and me. We have a two-bedroom, two-bathroom place. Other than sharing the living room and kitchen, she has her side of the hallway, and I have mine. It’s the perfect friend living situation, really.

My father finishes his explanations, does one more look around, and makes sure everything is secure before we exchange our goodbyes. He gives me a kiss on the forehead; I lean in, appreciating the gesture. The door shuts gently behind him, leaving me in silence.

I pour myself some red wine and stare at the camera lens reflecting in the corner. I suppose it isn't a terrible idea. I should give it a chance before I shut the idea out completely. They are trying to look out for me after all, but I swear, if I hear one abnormal noise come out of one of these cameras, they're all coming down.

I take a deep breath, in and out, leveling my thoughts, when I feel a faint vibration in the pocket of my jeans. I pull out my phone, glancing at the small screen. A little blue bubble shines with a text.

Z

Get hot because we are going out tonight, I'll be there in 30!

I stare at the words, contemplating. Maybe a night out is exactly what I need. A break from reality, even if it's just for a moment. I double-tap the screen, hearting the message, letting her know I’m in for the last-minute venture.

Chapter 2

The Flower

Booty wurk - T-Pain

The vibration from the loud music courses through my body, and I swear the bass will be my new heartbeat. Z is trying to speak to me, but it's just inaudible noises at this point. When in doubt, just smile and nod.

The club is packed tonight with men and women everywhere—dancing, talking, sitting, drinking, and mingling. It doesn't surprise me, as this is one of the more popular clubs. It is located in the heart of the city; people from all over pack the place almost every weekend.

There is a DJ on the main level, with a generous setup near one wall. There are tables and booths that line the room all around, making a smaller space for dancing. A lit-up dance floor illuminates the center, being the main source of light, other than strobes and lasers.

Members, who pay a pretty penny, hang out on the floor above us. It has a lookout to the first level from a glass balcony. Don’t worry, we peasants still have fun down here.

I feel a soft nudge on my arm, then see a cocktail in a small hand. I glance at it, then at the person holding it. Z wiggles her eyebrows in my direction with a mischievous smirk on her face. It makes me chuckle. Taking the glass, I bring it up to my lips, and my face contorts.

“What the hell did you order?” I turn toward her.

“God, is it just me or does your drink taste like ass too?” she says with her nose crinkled.

“Yep, mine is ass too. Come on, let's try to chug these and go dance!” I yell, ready for the next venture. I take the glass to my lips and plug my nose, feeling the cold liquid sting the back of my throat like a toxic addiction.

The music is great tonight. They're playing 2000s throwbacks, and I am living for it. Booty Wurk is on, and you bet your ass we’re bumping and grinding. Tonight is all about us and forgetting ‌all our problems. Dancing is our favorite choice of activity. We basically live and breathe it. We’re both therapists by day, dance connoisseurs by night. Well, by the weekend rather.

We approach the center of the crowded dance floor, bumping into others along the way. Once we find an area that’s spacious enough, our bodies begin to move to the beat of the music.

My hands roam over my curves while my hips sway. I can feel my best friend's front against my back, matching my movements like we are two peas in a pod. Very hot and sweaty, peas in a pod.

I’m wearing a black leather miniskirt with a black lace top that you can see all the way through. Luckily, my bra leaves the imagination running. At least a little. Then, of course, my black boots. They're always a staple for any outfit I wear.

Zoe is wearing black leather pants that accentuate her ass, with a black halter top. On nights like this, we get to be someone different. We’ve even gone as far as making alter egos. And yes, we both have fake names in ‌case we get approached, accompanied by terrible accents we’ve adapted for our facade personas.

The alcohol makes its way through my system, creating a slight distortion in my vision. Little prickles of gray outline my peripherals. Suddenly, my thoughts and worries seem so minuscule. Just the feel of the music coursing through me, having my bestie with me, and dancing are all I need.

I am captured by the moment, though I can’t help but feel a set of eyes burning through me, so I scan the busy room. In a sea full of people, I make eye contact with someone who seems to already have their attention on me. I typically shy away from eye contact. Other than doing on a day-to-day basis in my professional life, making eye contact in a setting like this would attract a certain type of attention.

The man is tall with black hair that has a few inches of length to it. Messy and slightly covering his right eye with a few perfectly placed wisps. I quickly glance away, not wanting him to get the wrong impression of me or think that I might be interested.

On nights out, Z and I make a promise to never let a guy interfere with our good time. Now, if it’s a night out purposefully looking for a hookup, then that's another story. Tonight is not one of those nights, and I don’t break my promises. They're sacred.