The Blade Artist by Irvine Welsh Read Free Book Online

attitudes, strutted out onto the patio. One was entrancing and sleek, with a slender figure and almost implausibly angular curves. She has to be a model, Melanie thought out loud. The other, with her smouldering lips and long black hair, had a lioness prowl that drew a reaction from everybody present. Jim and Melanie were notthe only people to exchange glances; something was going on, with the innuendo of much more to follow.
    Seconds later, behind both of the strutting interlopers, a young man in a light blue suit walked in. He was handsome and lithe, slick but easy in his movements. Smoking a cigarette, he surveyed all with an air of haughty, but jovial, disdain. When his eyes fell on first the two black men, then Jim and Melanie, he cracked big smiles, as if acknowledging new guests. Then he waved over to the DJ, and joined the two women at a table, where they ordered a bottle of white wine.
    Melanie had tried not to stare, but something about this trio absolutely sparkled. The aura from them resonated across the space, and they emanated a total connection to the music and the atmosphere. They seemed important, but for a deeper reason than how they looked. It was as if they belonged there; had an almost divine purpose in the proceedings.
    As half an hour elapsed, Melanie and Jim were disappointed that the impressive trio had not joined in the dance, as almost everybody else seemed to be up. At Melanie’s urging, she and Jim rose and struggled through the steps, being met with kindly, if slightly pitying looks. Then the DJ put on a song with a faster beat, and the blue-suited man rose, nodding to the thin, model-type woman, who was sipping her drink. Taking one deep puff of his cigarette, before crushing it into the ashtray, he took her hand, and they walked towards the dance floor. At first she appeared only half interested, but his look seemed to ignite her, and they started to dance to the music.
    Melanie could feel her heart begin to race. She looked at Jim, who was totally transfixed by the duo. They instinctivelymade for their seats, to better appreciate the performance. It was a remarkable one, as the dancing couple seemed to embody sound into human movement: rhythm, flair, style, grace, and an incendiary passion. Neither Jim nor Melanie could take their eyes from them. The man ran his hands softly through the woman’s hair, caressed her face, and then suddenly, as the beat violently exploded, grabbed her waist, thrusting her body down, her head lashing back.
    Melanie felt her mouth open wide, her spine tingle and her palms sweat. Then, under that hanging tablecloth, Jim’s hand was on her knee, then crawling like a tarantula up her thigh. Despite this, she couldn’t avert her gaze from the couple on the floor. Every beat of music was scored by the flash of a hand, the twist of an arm, the swivel of a hip, while each crescendo was powered by a spin . . . then two . . . then three . . . then four . . . followed by a pause, and Melanie could feel Jim’s fingers, up her skirt, inside her panties, probing at her wet pussy for her clit. And almost at the same time her hand was inside his zipper, undoing the top button on the waistband of his trousers, fastening around his brick-hard cock. She could hear his breathing, slow and ragged, as they remained fixated on the dancing couple. Jim’s inhalations grew shallower still, mirroring her own, as they got off on the dance and the style, jazz and sex appeal of the incandescent duo.
    The entire crowd, couple by couple, cleared the dance floor as the stars’ performance built in intensity. It was seemingly reckless, yet at the same time partnered with a technical perfection on every beat. A circle formed around them, as people just watched and clapped. This blocked Melanie and Jim’s view ofthe couple, and they too would have risen from the table had they not both been gripped by their own eye-popping climax. When the song finished, the entire room cheered, whistled and