In Love with the Prince (of Darkness, That Is)

Dreama slithered into her black salsa dress in the change room at the club. She had a long and early shift, from nine until five in the morning, but it was understood: besides Fridays, street dance night, Saturday's Latin Night was the hottest ticket in the city, and it catered to mid-thirties singles.

Dreama checked her hair--tonight in a curly up-do that she'd fashioned before getting on the bus to the club--and dabbed on some Fire and Ice perfume that she kept in her bag. Her dress was looser than usual, she noticed, and wondered just how quickly she was losing weight. She knew the stress of the last two months had been bad for her health, but this was ridiculous: she was forced to pin the back of the dress so that it clung to her curves.

She ventured out into the main room and immediately crashed into someone.

"Sorry!" she cried, stumbling backward.

"It's fine. I wasn't paying attention." She looked up and met a stunning pair of blue eyes. "Hey, you're the dancer from the other night," their owner said.

"I am?" Dreama searched his face, and the recognition crashed down, making her heart race. God, he really was gorgeous. "Oh, hey. You're the new singer."

"Yeah." He offered a large hand. "Taylor Gable."

"Any relation to Clark?" Dreama wondered as she shook it. God, she had tiny hands, he reflected. He could have easily held them both in one hand.

"Regrettably not."

"Too bad. Well, sorry again, but I have to go work the bar."

"You work here?"

"Every night."

"Cool. Now I'll know where to find you."

"I guess you will. See you around, then."

"You bet."

She moved to walk away, but then realised that he still had a grip on her hand. "I'm going to need that."

"But you never told me your name," he responded with an easy grin.

Dreama smiled. Oh, he was smooth. "Dray Margulis."

"Nice to meet you Dray." He raised her hand and kissed her knuckle gently, and then let go. She blushed prettily and giggled.

"You, too."

She sashayed to the bar, working her hips back and forth just a little more than necessary, and then glanced back over her shoulder. He was still standing in the same spot, watching her. He winked when he caught her looking at him.

Dreama couldn't help it. She blushed again, and then looked away. She caught the eye of another flirtatious bartender, a woman named Rosalind Baker in her early twenties. "Whoa," she mouthed. Dreama sidled over to her under the pretence of mixing a drink.

"What?"

"Damn! Boy is fine!"

"Tell me about it," Dreama laughed. She flicked her eyes over to where Taylor was standing. He had moved to the edge of the dance floor, but she picked him out immediately, in his red satin dress shirt and black jeans.

Now that she had more time to look at him, Dreama truly noticed how handsome Taylor was, even though he was heavily freckled. He had an angular chin and a heart-shaped face, capped off by lustrous dark-brown hair. He had the shadow of a a moustache and beard, and clear blue eyes. When he looked over and saw her, he smiled, exposing a dimple on his left cheek, and Dreama couldn't help but smile back. There was something endearing about that grin: it was so childish and carefree that she had to respond.

"Hey, no flirting on the clock," Rosalind laughed, nudging Dreama in the side.

"How long until my break?" Dreama quipped.