Thread: The Arrangement (Translucentfeathers & Father Figure)

There were so many different people in this world, so many variables that could create a human being and the psyche behind them. Some people turned out to be amazingly whole, good and kind, or just genial and easy going. Some turned out to be conflicted, lost, uncertain of their places in life, and trying desperately to find what they never could inside of themselves. The others...were cruel, aggressive beasts, shallow and selfish, the epitome of everything that was frightening in today's world. The club had all of them in it, grinding away on the dance floor or in the varied side rooms that it provided, and every single one of them was radiating that one emotion that seemed so very common to humanity. The need to be wanted. Wanted by someone, wanted by something, to find and have that special moment...the one that made the thrill, the one that made them feel alive. It seemed to turn the place into one pulsing beating heart, pounding it's way into the very bones of those that were searching that evening. And then there was him. When had he realized his difference, the sheer terrible power of his personality and what he was capable of doing to other human beings. When had he recognized the horror of what he was and then merely smiled and set it aside? How did you explain staring in a mirror for hours to try to make the proper face when greeting another human being, or speaking quietly to yourself at night so you could grasp the simplest of conversation topics. He just did not react the way others did, he never could. He was practically part and parcel an alien being. He had heard of many people claim such antisocial behavior fell on the autistic spectrum, but no...he grasped other people quite well, he just didn't care about them overly much. Perhaps that made him a sociopath, it was not something he cared overly to indulge in thinking about. After all, what use was there in knowing you were a sociopath? It truly served very little purpose in life and just muddied the waters of whatever you might be busy doing. Yet he had his desires didn't he. They might not be quite as intense as the other human beings there, but they existed. Matthew was the kind of man who brought attention from all the women who had unwed daughters. Mid-thirties, in good health, and with passingly good looks...he was not an athlete, not some sculpted god, not some genius conversationalist to woo a woman into falling to her knees. Yet his intensity seemed to radiate out of him, and that intensity had gained him a foothold in this world that very few ever could gain. It allowed him to attain the promotions that he wanted, to live the single life that he craved, to make the deals that nobody else could. Did he want to get that car with zero down and low financing? Did he arrange to have that corner apartment in the inner city because he had pushed the manager around until he'd given way to his requests? Did he expect that submissive to walk out with him that evening? The answers were yes to all of them. So there he stood in casual business attire, a dressed down kind of man who was not particularly seeking to impress by the nature of his clothing. It was his eyes that would have attention, those eyes and the smirk that accompanied them, as if the world was his oyster. A little over six feet in height, broad shouldered, and dark haired...he was the quintessential predator walking in a world full of sheep, trying to determine which prey animal he was going to take down this evening. His eyes scanned slowly, looking over the crowd, and then he saw her...he saw her and he smiled inside at how people seemed to pull away from the cold shoulder she was portraying. Perfect...she is perfect, he thought, and his body eased itself through the crowd towards her and as he approached she could see the glint of the red band on his wrist. There was a directness to him, completely disregarding her wish to brush him off as he spoke and offered his hand. Matthew, he said, those eyes glinting just slightly. And you are?