Chapter 6: To the Next Level

Tensions continue to rise between Mark and Katrina as their night on the town continues.

We proceed to walk over to the Four Seasons just a few blocks over, experiencing some mild fatigue in our legs as we partially climb one of San Francisco's notoriously steep hills. After hearing Katrina groan a few times, I selflessly decide to throw away my pride and carry her the rest of the way up like a baby. Upon entering the lobby, a sign signifying an all-access dance in the ballroom featuring a band called "The Moonlit Woods" catches my eye.

"I don't suppose that would be suitable for passing the time, would it?" I ask, pointing to the ballroom's entrance.

"Eh, I dunno. I ain't never danced before," Katrina replies.

"Don't worry. I'll lead," I calmly offer.

---

Katrina nods and we enter. Inside, we manage to find a spot on the dance-floor, just close enough to get a good view of the band, yet far enough away that we won't get our eardrums ruptured by the gigantic speakers. By the time we manage to find that spot, however, the band is in the middle of covering "Sway" by Michael Buble. Additionally, the room is completely lit up with rapidly flashing strobe-lights that make our every move look like a single frame of an animation.

Not long after we get settled in, the music stops, and the admittedly irritating lights shut off, before the room darkens everywhere except for the stage, and a disco-ball the size of both of our heads combined, hair included, appears in the ceiling, casting countless small flecks of light everywhere as it rotates.

The two of us look towards the stage as the entire band stands around on stage, all clad in silver tuxedos with the females in black pencil-skirts instead of slacks. Some of them fiddle with their instruments, while others engage in small, inaudible side-conversations. The band looks as though it stepped right out of the soul-revue era, including horns, strings, backup singers, and even a keytar player in addition to the usual guitar, bass, piano, and drums. The lead singer's guitar looks like a perfect replica of the one that Jimi Hendrix burnt to cinders in Monterrey some years ago.

"Good evening, folks!" the lead singer says smoothly. "Sorry for ending the party so early, but right now, we agreed that we'd slow things down a notch… for the ladies!"

This garners some applause, including some fangirl-like squeals and manly shouts, from most of the audience, though Katrina and I do nothing more than smile in response. At twenty-seven, both of us are clearly older than most of the crowd, and are thus less inclined to react so viscerally.

After the drummer taps his drumsticks together a few times, he dishes out a brief drum-solo, before the keyboardist and pianist quickly run their hands down along the keys of their respective instruments at once, before the entire band finally breaks into song, as everyone on the dance floor quickly partners up. While partnering up with Katrina, I accidentally place my hand on her rear instead of her waist, though I quickly adjust to the right position and she quietly laughs it off.

The playlist is among the best I've ever heard, including covers of "Let's Stay Together" by Al Green, "Baby I Love Your Way" by Big Mountain, "Weak" by SWV, and "All My Life" by K-Ci & JoJo. Apparently this band is not exactly professional and only does local gigs, but by golly, they could easily get somewhere with the amount of talent they espouse.

Despite her earlier confession about not knowing how to dance, Katrina exhibits little to no problems following my lead, stepping in time just as I do with the correct feet and everything, reciprocating properly when I push us apart or pull us in close, and even spinning around as I raise both of our hands into the air on occasion. Being able to maintain prolonged eye-contact has always been a problem for me, causing me to often scan my surroundings during conversations after staring at my subject for a maximum of twenty seconds, before rinsing and repeating. However, it does not bother me at all as we dance, I guess because of the wonderful music performed by the surprisingly talented band that's intensifying the mood, and the fact that Katrina's wholesome face is one of the few things I would totally be willing to stare at for eternity.

As we dance, the band is also swaying and tilting to the beat of each song played, and even adding in the occasional footwork, all the while not messing up a single aspect of their instrument-playing. By the time "All My Life" kicks in, the two of us are completely one with the dance-floor, dancing entirely on auto-pilot and letting the entirety of our surroundings get blurred out. In spite of the dim lighting, I can tell that Katrina is blessing me with her trademark smile once more, and staring at me almost seductively through her avocado eyes. It's almost as if she knows I'm holding back - that we're both holding back.

It almost feels as if the music has been coordinated so that it's timed to our actions, for right as the bridge and final chorus are being played, I pull her in until our torsos are pressed together. As we lock lips, our eyelids droop until they completely shut, and our feet completely halt themselves on the ground so the kiss does not get interrupted. For what feels like a full hour, Katrina and I are kissing deeply, creating subtle friction between our lips and gently stroking each-others' backs and faces. At the same time, the band wraps up the song, ending it with a spectacular saxophone solo, an astonishing guitar riff from the lead-singer, and one final crash of the cymbals on the drum-set.

---

Time appears to be completely frozen as Katrina and I continue to kiss, failing to notice that the band has stopped playing, and the countless other party-goers have gone silent. Only after everyone starts whispering does it dawn on us that something isn't right. Despite the overwhelming urge to forget everything and kiss for just a bit longer, we end it with much reluctance, only to make the embarrassing discovery that we're both under a bright spotlight, and everyone else is staring directly at us.

"Oh s**t!" I hear Katrina whisper in shock.

"Well now, folks! Looks like we have a pair of winners! Let's give 'em a hand, why don't we?" the lead-singer yells into his microphone.

Obediently, the crowd bursts forth into rapturous applause peppered with the occasional exclamations and whistles. Neither of us say anything, for our humility has effectively severed the connection between our brains and our mouths. The only response we can muster are some awkward smiles.

"Um, what exactly's going on?" I manage to ask after a minute or so.

"Oh, I could've sworn I went over this earlier! Didn't I, everybody?" the lead-singer asks, immediately met with a chorus of "no"s. "Damn! Well, not only were music, refreshments, and dancing planned for this party, but we also decided to hold a little contest to see which couples are the most madly in love. While we were performing, we asked one of the guys in charge of lighting to pan a spotlight all over the crowd to look for anyone who fell in love to our setlist. The first couple that was spotted kissing would be crowned the winner, and they would earn a free room-service breakfast with their room - assuming they're actually staying here, that is."

"I see," Katrina replies, her voice still carrying a hint of embarrassment. "Well, thanks for that, I guess."

"No problem," the lead-singer replies, adjusting his hair. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen! That was only Round 1! We've still got four more left, so are y'all ready to get enamored?!"

The crowd cheers once more, signifying that they're up to the task. Following a music breakdown much like the one that started off the last playlist, the band begins playing a cover of "Careless Whisper" by Wham!. Katrina and I both let out sighs of relief as the spotlight above us finally goes out.

"Heh, whaddaya know? They're playin' your song," Katrina says cheerily.

"Kind of a shame they're not playing any of yours," I reply jokingly.

Then, Katrina's smile disappears. I immediately feel guilt welling up inside me. Have I said something wrong? Have I offended her? If so, how? Will she not forgive me for my remark?

"I get the joke, but can you please not compare me to that b***h? I'd really appreciate it," she replies after what feels like ten minutes.

"I swear I didn't know! I'm so sorry!" I stammer apologetically.

"No harm done," Katrina replies as she reclaims my hand, her smile having already returned for the most part.

After we dance for another minute or so, the depressing lyrics of the song begin to creep into our minds, and it makes the dance feel slightly more uncomfortable than it had just been.

"Y'know what? This song's a little sad," I say. "I dunno about you, but I'd rather not dance to this one."

"Agreed. Let's bail," Katrina replies.

---

We weave through the crowd and eventually exit the ballroom, managing to avoid getting caught in the spotlight a second time. Both of us have to blink a few times as we adjust to the very different scenery within the lobby. The woman at the desk looks as though her shift has lasted all day, for she is completely out of it, judging by her eye-bags, somewhat disheveled hair, and slightly slurred speech.

"Er, hi. One room, please? Preferably with two beds," I request.

The receptionist proceeds to check for vacancies that match my request, but not before she allows her eyes to linger on Katrina and I for a few more seconds, almost as if she can't believe what she's hearing. Why would two people who seem like such a perfect couple not want to share a bed, she must be thinking? To be honest, at this point I'd totally agree with that question, but I've known for years that it's best not to rush into things, especially when it comes to relationships.

"If they don't have rooms with two beds, I'll just sleep on the couch," I quickly whisper into Katrina's ear, prompting her to nod in response.

"Alright, here you go. That'll be $475 a night," the woman says after a bit, "And since you two won that contest in the ballroom, your breakfast is free of charge. But tomorrow, be sure to let the delivery-man know about that, or else he's still gonna charge you. Breakfast is only available until noon."

"W-Wait! How did you-?!" I ask, only to be cut off.

"Those TVs right behind you are connected to the security-cameras in the ballroom, so people can watch those contests," the woman replies, pointing to a pair of flat-screens on either corner of the lobby. "I saw the whole thing."

Great. Now even MORE people got to see us kissing in public! I think to myself.

The receptionist hands us the aforementioned ticket and the room-key, while I hand her my credit-card for her to swipe. Once that's done, I get my card back, and just as we're about to set off towards the elevators, she cuts us off.

"Oh, and unfortunately, the room you'll be staying in has a broken heater, so we've already turned on the electric fireplace," she says. "I know it's summer, but San Fran can still get pretty cold at night."

"Believe me, I'm aware," I reply in a half-joking manner.

---

The room we booked is all the way up on the twelfth floor, and the elevator ride is given some extra longevity due to some other guests getting on and off of it. Seeing how wide-awake they appear to be makes me wonder just what they could be up to at 11:00pm, not counting the party downstairs. As we near our destination, the elevator has finally cleared out.

"I'm honestly surprised that you were able to book a room so easily," Katrina comments.

"Same here. I guess it's because hotels generally get less business on weekdays," I reply. "Especially this late into the summer."

Eventually, the elevator stops, and we make our way into the room. Just like the receptionist said, the fireplace is stoked, and the other sources of light are on their dimmest setting, giving the room a very romantic feel. As per my request, it has two queen-sized beds, and given the chain that the hotel is a part of, both they and the other amenities are all of outstanding quality. Once I've secured all the locks on our door and placed the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the outside handle, I don't hesitate to hang my sport-coat on one of the complimentary hangers in the closet, before slipping my tie off and doing the same with it.

By the time I'm finished with all this, I can see Katrina standing over the bed that's closer to the massive window, yawning and digging through her purse until she pulls out several scrunched-up pieces of clothing. I can't help but give off a minor smile, knowing I've gone out of my way to do so many nice things for her. She steps out of the bathroom once she's ready for bed. I fail to notice her, though, for regardless of how I have spent my time today, I am incredibly anxious to freshen up after walking around in a constricting suit all day.

When I enter the bathroom, I am relieved that Katrina has not turned it into a pigsty like she did with her cab. However, I do find that very little of the shampoo and conditioner are left, and all three of the differently-colored soap bars have been worn down to various degrees. Too tired to care, I take a rejuvenating military shower and step out in nothing but my white undershirt and orange-striped boxers. I don't hesitate to hang my slacks up as well, and once I'm finally done getting settled in, I look towards the window to see Katrina standing there with her back to me, her arms spread out wide as she holds the curtains open, revealing an expansive, extravagant view of the city.

But Katrina once again steals the show, having changed into a pair of bright blue pajama mini-shorts covered in hot dogs and a blood-red, skintight, spaghetti-strap top, both garments unable to completely cover her. Her hair is now completely down, dangling past her buttocks. It seems to have become wavy due to the shower she's taken, and somehow I can tell that it's softer and silkier than before just by looking at it. I've maintained a strong sense of restraint all day, but now that she has less on, I can already feel some of that resolve slipping through my fingers.

"Wow, Mark!" Katrina says. "You didn't have to do all this."

"I know, but this hotel was the first one I could see from the cab-lot, and we obviously couldn't drive anywhere else," I reply. "And believe it or not, this is actually one of the cheapest rooms here."

"Hard to believe," Katrina replies, not looking behind her.

I take the opportunity to come up behind Katrina and place my left arm around her shoulders, inhaling the scent of her freshly-washed hair and taking in the view of the city. From here, I can also tell that her top reveals half of her chest, and has a "Warning: HOT" logo on its front.

"Y'know, I was thinkin'," Katrina says after a bit. "When you buy me that ticket to Sausalito?"

"Yeah?" I reply.

"I… I want you to come with me," Katrina replies.

"Come with you? I-I mean, that would be great, but, uh, it would kinda' feel like I'm dead weight. I'm not the one who's going through all this, and I'd hate to be a potential disruption while you're trying to have your moment with your mom," I reply with complete honesty.

"This ain't just about her, though," Katrina continues. "Not only do I want to make sure my mom's okay, but I also wanna let her know that I'm okay too, and I'd need physical proof for that."

Her words tug on my heart strings. Have I just been referred to as her savior? The one who's pulling her out of this hole? Honored, and emboldened by what I've been told, I pull Katrina in closer and turn her around so that she's facing me, placing an arm around her waist in the process.

"Who am I kidding? I'd be happy to go," I whisper into her face.

"Thank you so much," Katrina replies. "I know I've said it before, but it really means a lot."

Neither of us say anything more as we lock our lips again, letting our hands aimlessly wander around each other. We don't bother to take anything off, but I can already tell that Katrina's body is the softest thing I've ever felt. Her skin is still a bit warm from the shower, but nonetheless pleasant to the touch, like petting a black dog on a summer day.

It's only after I feel the urge to let out a yawn that I pull away, prompting Katrina to give a big evening stretch and adjust her clothing shortly afterwards.

"Welp, I guess we'd better get some shut-eye, huh?" she asks.

"Indeed. Better to go to work well rested, am I right?" I ask in response.

"You said it. Goodnight, Mark," Katrina continues, climbing into one bed.

"Goodnight, Kitty," I reply, climbing into the other.