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into my head that did not need to be there. Alfred was my friend. He’d worked with my father … I could not be attracted to him. It would complicate things I didn’t need complicated. My life was messed up enough as it was. After a few minutes, I came up with an excuse I thought would get Kathryn off my back.

    “He’s too old for me, even if I did find him attractive.”

    “ No . What is he? Thirty six, maybe?”
    “He’s
    fifty.”

    RED
    Tracey H. Kitts
    25

    I enjoyed the look of utter disbelief on her face, raising my eyebrows as if to say, See, I was right.

    “I knew you guys lived longer, but damn . I had no idea. He looks thirty something.” She pressed on, undeterred. “Oh well, what’s the expression, ‘age ain’t nothin’ but a number?’”

    I laughed, “You’re sick.”
    “Possibly.”

    “This is off the subject, but I want to ask your opinion about something.”

    I told her about the strange dream I’d been having, doing my best to not leave out any detail.

    “And there was a man there?” she asked.
    “Yeah.”

    “But you didn’t know him?”

    “I knew him in my dream. I just can’t remember his face once I wake up.”

    “You know what this sounds like?” she smirked.

    “I’m afraid to ask.”

    “You need to get laid.”

    I burst out laughing. “Oh my God, you’ve got issues.”

    “Maybe, but I know hormones in overdrive when I see them.”

    “I know a pervert when I see one, too.”

    “Takes one to know one.”

    I decided to not argue the fact. When it came to extracurricular thoughts, my mind wasn’t in the gutter, it was the gutter.

    * * * *
    While we were getting dressed that evening, Kat took the opportunity to pick on me further for my eccentricities. She wore a short black dress and sensible low heels, not too dressy, not too casual. She’d fit in most anywhere.

    My outfit on the other hand was … different. If I was going to go out, I wanted to be able to be myself. I wore tight low cut leather pants, combat boots with a heel, and a slinky black shirt that was open only enough to reveal my spine from the bra line down.
    I’d been careful, as always, to cover my scars. There were some things I just didn’t feel like explaining. The only color I wore was my red hair and silver belt buckle. I felt more confident in black. The leather was just a fetish of mine.

    I suppose Alfred had thought Kat would be responsible and keep an eye on me.
    Yeah, right. We went to a few places. Mostly, Kat drank a lot and watched me dance. I love to dance. It’s such an incredible stress reliever. There are some times when stress just calls for physical activity. I’d worked out so vigorously over the past few months that I’d lost ten pounds. But, I was sick of making my punching bag suffer defeat, or slicing and dicing my poor steel dummy in the training room. I needed to do something less violent to calm my nerves. I needed to dance.

    It was very late, or very early, depending on how you want to look at it, when we arrived at the last stop of the night. This club was unusual, to say the least. Three bold letters splashed above the door in massive blood colored brushstrokes said, Red . The RED
    Tracey H. Kitts
    26
    moment I saw it, I knew this was the place from my dream, and somewhere inside was the man I’d been dreaming about.

    The inside of the place was dark, with occasional flashes of strobe lights illuminating a path through the crowd of sweaty, gyrating bodies. When I say the music pumped, I’m not using a figure of speech. You could feel the rhythm in your chest, like a heartbeat. Like really good sex, the pounding music rattled your teeth. The whole room pulsated with an energy I couldn’t describe. It excited me.

    In the time we were there a variety of music was played and a variety of people were on the dance floor. Some who could dance, others so drunk they thought they could. Kat made her way over to what may have been a stage, but it looked