Hestumbled a little on the balls of his feet, tripping slightly and onceagain falling into the arms of Craig. He snaked his head from side toside, not noticing or caring as the taller, muscular man span himaround and pulled him backwards, planting his behind onto the hardcrotch that was waiting for him. James felt the pressure between hischeeks. He knew what was expected of him in this situation. Any controlhe might have had had been eroded by the chemicals in his brain. Hebent forwards slightly, the feeling on his ass stronger as his anglechanged. He pushed back slightly and began to sway just a little.Inside his head, a small part of James knew this was wrong. This wasn'twho he was. He wasn't someone who ground other men in clubs. He wasn'tsomeone who danced like no one was watching. This wasn't him, but hedidn't care. He liked this version of himself. He was having fun. Forthe first time in his life he had completely let himself go. The drugshad helped but he couldn't attribute. Tarras gripped the knife and turned towards the junction. He walked such that his boots echoed off the stone floor. He came to a sudden stop. "Hold! Who are you?!" he shouted. "What are you doing?! No!"He scuffled his feet. He brought the dagger to his shoulder and winced as he slashed the blade against it, cutting his shirt and drawing a bright red line of blood."No, stop!! ARRGH!" he screamed.He flung the dagger against the wall behind him as hard as he could and fell to the ground. As he dropped, he heard the dagger make a metallic noise off the wall and fall somewhere in the main corridor.As he heard booted feet pound towards him in the distance, he wished now he had an accomplice to simulate the sound of an assailant running away.When the first of Tarras' yells came to Janna's ears, she nearly gasped.The second guard's patrol had taken him into the area again. He had just started away when the sound came. She heard the scrape of his boots as he turned around."What was that?" he.
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