See You For What You Really Are Pt. 1

The night itself was alive. Energy was buzzing through the air. I could taste it. I could feel it. It penetrated every pore in my body and buzzed through my veins.
And i danced.
I was a queen. I owned the world. I was fucking on <b>top</b> of the world. I thrived off the energy-- my never ending supply.
I spun.
The lights reflecting off my platinum blonde hair, enveloping me in a sense of security.
This is where i belonged. In the spotlight. Envied by girls. Wanted by boys. Adored by all.
I smiled. I could control everyone around me. I could <i>own</i> everyone around me. Not just because i had money, but because they loved me enough, that all i had to do was look up at them from my crystal blue eyes, under my long lashes, and say "please?"
"Yo Sadie!" yelled a voice from the back of the room. "Come dance with me!"
I frowned. I wasn't Sadie. I was Mercedes. I was the expensive car. I was the girl with the price tag embedded in her name. I wasn't one to put up with nicknames.
I turned around and sought out the voice. It belonged to a blonde wannabe abercrombie model.
I sauntered over to him, head held high, shoulders back. The crowd parted, all stepping aside to let me through. His eyes widened in surprise. He didn't think I would actually aknowledge him.
I slid my hand behind his neck and leaned in close.
I could feel him quivering beneath me.
Whispering in my most seductive voice, i informed him, "It's Mercedes. I can break you."
And then i kissed him. My tongue slid wickedly between his shocked lips, and carried on to do devestating things inside.
He tasted of beer, and chocolate, and everything a guy <i>should</i> taste like. I leaned into him, twining my fingers through his hair.
I could feel every eye in the room glued to me. Exactly what i wanted.
I slid my hands up the back of his striped polo, and he responded eagerly, quickly finding a way to get his dirty hands into my shirt.
He felt my lips curve up into a smile, and he took it as a sign that i wanted him to continue.
So he kept going.
And that's when i told him what he could and couldn't do to me.
I was too precious.
Shoving him into the wall, i unglued my mouth from his, and slapped him across the face. The sound resounded around the room, turning heads as a gunshot would. Everything froze, and all eyes locked into the scene.
"You filthy bastard!" I screamed, my eyes blazing.
The hurt and confusion registered in his eyes as the mood in the room switched so violently. "You're disgusting! You're better off with a fucking prostitute!"
He started to say something, but i cut him off again, my voice rising in pitch and volume.
"That's what you think i am, don't you?! You fucking <i>asshole!</i> Oh my <i>god!</i>" My voice returned to a normal pitch, but stayed loud. "Someone get this fucking <i>child</i> out of here."
Almost immediately, two big burly guys marched over and took the kid by the arms, shoving him out of the club. In an instant, i was all smiles again, and returned to the middle of the dance floor and resumed my dancing.
I was back in my element.
At once, the buzz was back in the air, and several girls joined me to dance, telling me how much they admired me. Telling me how gorgeous i was. Telling me how much they loved me. And wanted to be my friends.
I smiled to myself, soaking it up. They just didn't get it, did they? I worked alone. I don't <i>need</i> friends. I was too good for friends. They didn't deserve me. I deserved much better than friends. I deserved followers. I demanded worshippers. I was the one Goddess out there that wasn't in greek mythology and had her belly button pierced.
I was more than famous.

I sat at the bar not half an hour later, with yet another guy. It was truly amazing how if i just sat down, how many people would just come <i>to</i> me. I didn't even have to try.
"So, you know, you're kind of gorgeous," he said once he'd ordered us drinks.
"I know." I said, not impressed at all. I didn't need anyone to tell me I'm gorgous.I knew that. Of all people, I'd know.
He smiled. It was a crooked smile, revealing straight, white teeth.
He really wasn't too bad looking. He was nothing like the Abercrombie guy, he wasn't a jerk. He wasn't hungry for sex. He was a gentleman. In a bad-boy sort of way.
His knee bumped into mine through his shredded jeans. He blushed. He might actually be kind of hott.
Might.
"You're an amazing dancer," he told me. "I've been watching you all night."
"Was that meant to me a compliment, or a clever way of telling me you're a stalker who's going to kidnap, rape, and then kill me by the end of the night?" I asked, cupping my chin in my hand, my elbow resting on the bar counter.
"It was meant to be a compliment," he said, smiling that gorgeous crooked smile again. "But if you really want me to kidnap you tonight, I can see that being arranged."
This time it was <i>me</i> who smiled.
That plan didn't sound half bad to me. Not with someone this stunning.
"Maybe that <i>is</i> what i wanted," I said, failing to even glance at the bartender who gave us our drinks, and was, no doubt, trying to get me to say something to him.
"Then in that case, I'd consider it a date," he said, reaching out to stroke my cheek.
What the hell was i doing?
I didn't get serious about guys.
I was the queen of One Night Stands,
I was the one <i>known</i> for breaking hearts.
I practically had "Heartless" tattooed across my chest.
So what was i doing, actually having feelings for a guy that i would no doubtedly end up shagging?
"Alright then," I said, ignoring my conscience, and doing what i knew i really wanted.
"But first, let's dance."
He smiled, and kicked over the barstool, taking my hand in the same movement.
He led me to the center spotlight, and immediately pulled me close.
Normally, this is where i'd decide to be a bitch, but this time, i let things happen the way <i>he </i>wanted them to happen.
Our drinks sat, untouched, on the counter.