AN: Hello, I'm back, did you miss me? So, here is my Marti/Morgan story. Don't know who Marti and Morgan are? Read my iPod Shuffle story, Song For The Lonely. I did two drabbles about them, Supemassive Black Hole and All Fall Down/Say (All I Need). This story takes place before All Fall Down/ Say (All I Need) and in the middle of Supermassive Black Hole, before Marti and Morgan had their night together. Just for your information, I imagine future 22-year old Marti as looking like Jessica Lowdes and I'm going to be putting up a poll on who you think should play Morgan.
Title: Fire On The Dance Floor
Summary: .....He was the only one who could do to her what she did to every other man she met......
Disclaimer: Do I own Life With Derek? Pfft! I wish!
Notes: The title comes from the song Darling Democrat by 16 MM, which one of the songs that inspired this story and the Marti/Morgan relationship.
Fire On The Dance Floor
Written by Becks Rylynn
Chapter One: Imperfect Day
Marti Venturi knew how to use her body to her advantage. She knew what she wanted and she knew how to get it. She was the girl every woman was terrified of. They were terrified she was going to come waltzing into their lives in her barely there little black dress, and her come-fuck-me heels and steal their man when their backs were turned.
Good. They should be afraid.
Commitment meant nothing to Marti Venturi. Wedding rings were nothing more then pieces of a life she didn't want. If she wanted a man, she would take him, no matter what stood in her way. Whether it was a wife, a fiance, a girlfriend, a mother, hell, even a child, she would always get her man. Edwin was bad, when he slept with a girl, he didn't call back, Derek was worse, it was all about the chase for him, once the chase is over, you were nothing to him. Marti, however, was the worst.
You see, Derek and Edwin believed in love, they wanted it all. They wanted wives and children, even if they didn't know it.
Marti despised all things normal. She didn't want the house, she didn't want the husband, the dog, the 2.5 children, the white picket fence, the love. She didn't want any of it. She didn't believe in love anyways.
Yes, Marti Venturi certainly had grown up to be a vixen, a dangerous girl, who men wanted to fuck and girls wanted to break.
Unfortunately for her, there is one man out there who never fell for her charm, no matter what she did. He was the only one who could do to her what she did to every other man she met. He was the only one who could make her knees weak and her breathing speed up.
His name? Morgan Jones.
His occupation? Owner of a bar.
His marital status? He was pretty much the male equivalent of Marti herself.
And he didn't want her.
He was a peculiar soul. He flirted with her, he laughed, he winked, he gave her smoldering looks that you normally only read about in trashy novels. But he never did anything about it. He was killing her. God, he was making her lose her fucking mind.
She did everything she could to get that damn Jones out of her head. She slept with a different man every night, she table danced at clubs, she skipped classes to have steamy back-of-the-library sex, hoping the danger (something she's addicted to) would make her forget. It never did.
One day, she fucked someone she probably shouldn't have, and ended up with a black eye from his crazy wife.
Just what she needed.
Marti leaned closer to the mirror and gently pressed a finger to her blackened eye, instantly wincing and pulling her hand away. ''Fuck,'' She muttered, frustration clouding over her eyes. Well, a little voice in the back of her head chided, this is what you get for sleeping with your professor. You knew he had a wife.
''Alot of the men I sleep with have wives. Usually none of them walk in.''
A loud ring echoed through her apartment, and Marti sighed heavily, hoping it was not the crazy wife, or the hot professor. Her exspensive heels clickity clacked on the hardwood floor as she moved towards the phone, answering with a weary ''Hello?''
''Oh, Marti, darling, I'm glad I caught you.''
She nearly dropped the phone in shock. ''Mom?'' She hadn't spoken to her mother in two years. The former Mrs. Venturi had been off on some romp in the Carribean with her new husband, 12 years younger then her, for months. What the hell was she doing calling Marti at home?
''Oh, yes, yes, it's me, baby. How are you?''
Marti cringed at her mother's coo, anger thudding through her veins. ''How did you get this number?''
''Why your father gave it to me, darling. So tell me, how's university? Lots of gorgeous male specimen's? How's your love life? Got a boyfriend, babe? Oh, I here the boys out there are just delectible. Of course no one compares to my Paulo - ''
So that's what his name was. Huh. Marti thought it was Paul.
'' - Have I told you about my trip yet? Oh, it was just beautiful. The scenery was breathtaking. Nothing was more breathtaking then my Paulo with his shirt off, but still - ''
''Mother!'' Marti pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. Amazing. She had been talking to her mother for five minutes and her head was already pounding. She needed a drink. ''Can I ask why you're calling me?''
''Oh, right. Well, darling, I just wanted to tell you that I'm coming to dinner tonight.''
''At your father's. Honestly Marti, you would forget your head if it wasn't screwed onto your head. It's Friday, cupcake. Remember?''
Friday night dinner with her father and Nora.
This would be the time when Marti cursed deciding to stay in London for the duration of her college life. It was just that London had such great nightlife. It also has Morgan, that damned little voice spoke up.
''What was that, sweetheart?''
''Oh, um, nothing Mom. I-I gotta go, okay? I'll....I'll see you at dinner.''
''Oh, alright, goodbye sweetheart. I love y - ''
Marti clicked the off button on her phone and bit down hard on her lip, cursing herself for getting herself into these kinds of situations. She had a black eye, a pounding headache, and now she was going to be forced to sit through a dinner with her mother and her mothers...ugh...lovemuffin. Groaning, Marti trained her gaze on the ceiling, and frowned. ''Could this day get any worse?''
And then, her heel broke, sending her crashing to the hard floor.
The door to Jones Bar burst open and Morgan Jones looked up as snow blew through the open door. When he spotted the girl in the doorway, looking like the devil herself in a firey red dress, black knee high boots, and a black stylish coat, with oversized sunglasses on her face, he arched a single eyebrow and smirked, leaning against the bar. ''Well, look who's here. It's Coco Chanel herself.''
Marti sneered and plunked down on a barstool and yanked off her sunglasses, revealing her black eye. ''Shove it where the sun don't shine, Morgan.'' She sent a glare at a dirty looking man next to her, and he backed off. ''And get me a drink.''
Morgan didn't move as he looked at her closely. When she looked away, uncomfortable under his gaze, he reached forwards and lifted her chin up, inspecting the nasty looking bruise. ''Loan shark?''
''You hit her back?''
Marti smirked. ''Do you know me at all, Morgan? Of course I did.'' She moved out of his grasp and cleared her throat. ''Now, it's Friday night, and I have a cab waiting outside to take me to my stupid dinner where I will have to endure who knows how long of my mother and her new husband doing God knows what. Not to mention my father and step-mother who will undoubtly give me the ''Marti, what the hell are you going to do with your life'' speech and use my freakishly succeful brothers and sisters as an example as to who I should be, so I need some freaking courage. Preferably the liquid kind.''
As she was rambling, numerous patrons turned in their seats to gape at her. Morgan, however, barely raised an eyebrow, smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. ''You practice that little speech?''
''Yeah, a little.''
''Vodka or gin?''
''Oooh, vodka please.''
When Morgan put the shot down in front of her, Marti downed it in one gulp, the alcohol barely effecting her. ''I have two minutes before my cab leaves. Give me some advice.''
Morgan frowned. ''Do I look like fuckin' Dr. Phill, Princess?''
''You have parental issues too.''
''Fine. You want my advice?''
Morgan leaned in close to her, so close she could feel his breath on her skin, making a shiver run down her spine. ''You're going to need something a hell of a lot more harder than vodka.''
Scowling, Marti slouched back in her seat and took another shot of vodka. ''I hate family.''
''Preaching to the choir, darlin'.''
A horn honked outside and Marti sighed, grabbing her purse and sliding off the stool. ''I should go. Hell awaits. Gotta face the vultures sooner or later.'' She smiled, albeit somewhat weakly, and leaned over the bar, pecking Morgan on the cheek and starting towards the door. At the last minute, she turned and ran back, grabbing the bottle of vodka. ''I'm gonna take this.''
''You shouldn't drink on an empty stomach!''
Marti turned and threw Morgan a smirk. ''Oh, sweetie,'' She shook her head in mock sympathy. ''You have alot to learn about me.'' Then, she was gone, out the door and into the snowy night, leaving nearly every man in the bar staring after her.
Oh, yes, Morgan Jones sure did have alot to learn about Marti Venturi.
And she was going to make sure she taught him.
end chapter one
AN: I know, short, but this was just an intro. So, what did you think? You likey?
Up next: The dreaded dinner from hell.