I move closer to him until my lips are inches from his lips. I move to him and slowly run my fingers through his hair around his neck turning his face to me. I am considering giving up on him, but then he mutters, "My name is Ian." I look at him, slightly surprised by his cooperation, but I stay composed.
or stimulate him, because he gasps and backs from me. "Not for long." I press my stomach against his waist, feeling his hard-on.
"I'm so sure," I say, with a smirk in my tone. I follow him swiftly and this time, I stand in front of him, leaning on him. I don't do neither of 'em." He moves from me and walks\almost staggering\ to the other side of the club entrance. He looks away hiding his face, not wanting me to see his hard mask crumble in bashfulness. I smile and bite my lip, continuing, "I'm Angel. But before I do so, I want to have a little fun with him. He is obviously more innocent than he appears to be. His tanned face that is reflecting different colours from the neon lights starts glowing bright red. "Y'know, I always wanted a friend like you." I stand on my toes whispering in his ear now. I slide my arm through his pulling my body closer to him smiling. You seem to be fun also." I slowly run my fingers along the muscles tensing up on his arm from my touch. "But, it's ok, because I can stay out here and hang with you. "You're quite mean." I walk to him and stand next to him resting my head on his strong arm folded across his chest to make him look tougher and more serious. I pout playfully, blushing slightly looking at him. Have to be 21 or with an I.D." He backs from me to head back to his post. I pause for a few seconds before answering, "I'm 17." "How old are you, kid?" He looks behind him at the entrance to the club then back at me. I close in on him, pressing my chest against his. His face twitches slightly looking down at me. I just wanna have some fun." I smile slyly at him. I smile placing my hand on his hard chest looking up at him through my long eyelashes. He seems to be wearing a mask of toughness as a bouncer. Though, he doesn't seem all that tough to me. I love messing with these types of guys\tough. "Where do you think you're goin', kid," he says with a grumbling voice. When he sees me coming towards him heading into the club, he pushes me aside pinning me against the wall of the club staring coldly at me. He looks about 19 or 20, though the light facial hair aged him by only one or two years. He looks a bit angry, but he is fairly handsome himself. I walk up to him and see his grass green eyes and thin, yet full, lips. It is short in the front and medium as it curled gently around his neck. His golden brown hair is tousled and slightly gelled. His pants are regular jeans with a dark belt. He has broad shoulders and a muscular body, covered by a skin-tight top that defines all the muscles jutting from his body, from his pecs down to his pelvic muscles. Then the stubs shade his chin and jaw, fading halfway down his neck. His face is square and very masculine, with stubs of shaven hair forming down his sideburns and across his philtrum. I start heading down to the club and I see an abnormally large figure standing in front of the building. They are all good looking and I start getting in that "mood" to party and grab a couple fellows for myself. I see a bunch of guys walking in, usually walking in alone and leaving in groups of two or three. It is a very attracting sign, though I have seen much less. The lights are bright and neon, flashing different vibrant colours reading, "Cocktail party".
I see a club across the street from the park down a few buildings. I sigh and look around for a place where I can start my day at. As I head closer to the city, the stars whisper goodbye and are then clouded by the city lights and smog. I look up at the morning stars as they greet me with bright, invisible eyes. Along the way I see a couple or two and a few drunkards wobbling unsteadily along the road. I stand up and stretch again and sling my bag over my shoulder and head down the park. I reach into my bag and pull out my boots and slip my feet in them, wiggling my toes a little to make sure my feet are completely in before tying the laces. I don't look like a 146 year old man, nor did I look like a 163 year old\which I am. This is how I've been living for that past 146 years. To many people this would seem strange, but this is completely normal for me. I stretch as if I am waking at an average time in an average home. I move my shoe less feet off the bench one at a time onto the damp grass allowing dew to slowly seep through the stitches of my socks. It does not surprised me, have I grown used to the sound. I wake up on a bench in a park at 3:40 in the morning to the sounds of rape coming from behind a tree a few feet away from me.