Sons of Angels Read Online Free PDF Page A

the men pretending to be icy-cool while betraying their interest in the available girls–or boys–by the tightness of their leather trousers.
    Her gaze flicked across to a group of velvet-clad girls in their early twenties. A little young for her taste, they nevertheless elicited a primal response as she looked them over. In the semi-darkness Felicia could see only the perfect makeup and casual disdain they appeared to display toward the predatory males, but one of them, her typically dark hair falling past her shoulders, caught her eye and smiled before dropping her gaze to concentrate on the vodka soda she held.
    Felicia smiled to herself, feeling the familiar prickle of desire. The girl was an apple waiting to be plucked–bi-curious if not already a lesbian, though inexperienced. She mentally marked her as a possible if she found nothing better.
    She drained her water and left the bottle on the table, rising to check out the next floor. She skirted the area quickly, having little in common with the post-teens dancing to drum and bass and their assertions that BB King was a sample master. There was little available talent anyway–mostly boys and straight girls here. Any who would fit her tight list of requirements would drift naturally to another floor as the night progressed in any case.
    The stairs were softer on the topmost floor, muted carpet instead of the industrial metal rungs and walkways of the lower floors. The heavy bass faded as she pushed through twin sets of double doors into the chill out room.
    Felicia entered to Ella Fitzgerald at a low volume, the buzz of voices as muted as the wall sconces. This room was set out in a series of booths, perfect for private liaisons and quiet conversation. For intimate encounters there were private pay-by-the-hour rooms that could be hired on the restricted access floor above.
    Felicia ordered a soft drink from the central bar and browsed the area, taking note of two or three possible targets for her elusive affections. She picked a sofa that had line of sight to a group that interested her, sipped her drink and watched. She had to be certain the women were both lesbian and single, or at least up for a little anonymous loving. She wasted the whole of her first drink watching a redhead in a group of three women, assuming that she was a gooseberry to the two who laughed and fondled each other next to her, but when the redhead left to go to the toilet, the other two broke off and awaited her return, seemingly uncomfortable with horseplay if the third of the trio were not present to witness and offer silent consent.
    Her second target was more promising, a soft butch woman in a leather jacket with, but not with, a feminine beauty who was close to hysterical. Felicia couldn’t hear the conversation, but she could tell by the girl’s body language her trauma centered on an absent lover. The stabs at the table, the abrupt changes in mood from anger to hurt and the comfort of the friend all served to indicate the butch was single.
    A sudden stare in her direction from the distressed party told Felicia her attention had been noticed. She nodded and smiled, raising her bottle of fruit juice to acknowledge the attention. Their conversation wound down and the girl left.
    Felicia waited, locking eyes with the other woman as they fought a silent battle over who was the more aggressive. The butch looked away with a smile before picking up her drink and wandering over, sitting opposite Felicia without even an introductory May I?
    Perhaps Felicia hadn’t won supremacy after all.
    She pushed her empty bottle across the table and cocked her head. A raised eyebrow was her reward, but her new companion took the cue and went to the bar, returning with another of the same for Felicia and a whiskey for herself. “Have I seen you before?”
    “Maybe.” Felicia was non-committal. “Who was the girl?”
    “My sister.” She laughed. “Would it matter?”
    “Not to me.” Felicia raised