The Lotus Bar in Manhattan opened just a few years ago. With its velvet ropes and attractive waiters, it quickly became one of the most famous spots in the city. Just two blocks from Broadway, it's always buzzing with energy.
Evan Bell and his friends had already left behind the excitement of Broadway. They were all about living in the moment, fully focused on their work but equally dedicated to having a good time. By now, it was past eleven, and the nightlife was just getting started. They navigated the crowded dance floor at the Lotus Bar, making their way to the inner passage. Above them, a spiral staircase led to the VIP area on the second floor, and straight ahead was the passage to the bathroom, already packed with people.
The bathroom cubicles, with their wine-red and gold door panels, exuded a luxurious and aristocratic vibe. Inside, soft moans and the occasional thud against the doors suggested that many needs were being met.
"Baby, I need to get back to the DJ booth. This set is almost over," a man's sexy voice emerged from one of the cubicles. Rich and mellow like a cello, with an elegant British accent, it made hearts race.
"No, you can finish quickly," the woman's voice was filled with urgency and desire. Her hands roamed over the man's well-toned body. Though he didn't appear particularly strong, standing about 5'8" and weighing around 140 pounds, his muscles were defined. She could feel the six-pack on his abdomen and the strong, proportionate muscles on his broad back, which excited her even more.
"Never tell a man you want a quick victory; it's a question of our ability," the man laughed, his voice slightly hoarse and filled with infinite temptation.
Outside, someone waiting grew impatient, kicking the door twice in frustration. "F**k, were you thrown into the toilet, or is your fat ass stuck in it?" he shouted, kicking the door again. No wonder bathroom doors in bars and nightclubs frequently needed repairs.
The noise outside didn't affect the passionate atmosphere inside. The man raised his head from the woman's thick, golden curls, revealing his handsome face. She gazed at him, captivated by his short brown hair and thick eyebrows, which gave him a heroic look. His long eyelashes and misty blue eyes were like a mountain lake in the morning fog—clear yet confusing. She seemed lost in his eyes.
Under his handsome nose were thin, sexy lips curved into a charming smirk. He whispered, "Baby, let's continue next time."
The woman snapped back to reality, kissed his lips, then held his lower lip, her eyes filled with desire and her breath sweet like orchids. "Are you sure you don't want to have a drink with me?"
The man kissed her ear, his soft breath turning it red and arousing her again. "It would be my honor. If you're interested, send the drink to the DJ booth. But I have to go now."
Hearing the determination in his tone, she knew it was pointless to insist. She quickly grabbed his sleeve, saying, "Evan, this is my number. I'll wait for your call." She hurriedly took out an eyebrow pencil and wrote her number on his palm, not wanting to miss her chance with him. She knew he was a guest DJ at the Lotus Bar and had been attracted to him for a month, but this was her first opportunity to see him again.
He gently kissed the phone number on his palm, "Sweetheart, I had a great time tonight." His fingers lightly danced on her arm, sending tingles through her body. He smiled wickedly, turned, and opened the bathroom door.
The person outside was about to kick the door again but stopped when he saw the man emerge. "F**k," he muttered.
Evan didn't care, just raised his middle finger and walked away calmly. The man outside didn't mind; this was normal in bars. But seeing the woman come out, he muttered about people being horny, clearly envious of their encounter.
"Evan, I finally found you! Didn't you say you'd be the guest DJ tonight? Come on!" A Lotus Bar staff member shouted into Evan's ear.
Having lived two lives, Evan Bell was more mature than his peers, though his clear eyes still revealed his true age of just eighteen.
Evan Bell nudged the staff member with his shoulder, raised his thumb, and patted his chest, signaling he was ready. The bar's loud music made them rely on simple gestures to communicate. Evan Bell skillfully made his way to the DJ booth. On the way, he asked the bartender for a tissue to wipe off the lipstick at the corner of his mouth. The bartender, used to this, just smiled knowingly, high-fived Evan, and continued his work.
"Hey, man, it's your turn. Come over here!" A young DJ waved to Evan from the stage.
Evan climbed the DJ booth like it was his own territory. He used the tissue to quietly wipe off the phone number on his right palm and threw it into the trash can next to the booth.
In the US, the drinking age is 21. Unfortunately for Evan Bell, he was only 18 this year, so he technically couldn't enter the bar. But the Lotus Bar was an exception.
As president of the New York Nightlife Association, the Lotus Bar's owner, David Rabin, had connections in both legal and illegal circles. He and Evan Bell had met several times. Evan once saved the Lotus Bar during a DJ strike, showcasing his DJ skills. Since then, David Rabin didn't mind that Evan snuck in and even invited him to be a guest DJ for a year. Evan quit this part-time job last month.
Today, Evan came to celebrate with his troupe. The bar staff welcomed the lively, cheerful boy and invited him to make a guest DJ appearance.
While Evan's DJ skills, after less than two years, weren't as refined as veteran DJs, his excellent musical sense and popular song choices made him a hit on the DJ stage. Generally, DJs use either CDs or vinyl records. Some see vinyl as outdated, expensive, and challenging to use, while CDs are easier. However, true DJ masters know that those who can handle vinyl records are top-notch. It requires exceptional skill and taste.
Evan was still at the CD level, learning to master vinyl records. He wasn't aiming to be a top DJ but was deepening his understanding of music and composition. For him, every learning process was enjoyable. Standing on the DJ stage tonight, watching the crowd dance to his music, was pure happiness.
"Evan, this drink is from a guest. She's at the bar," a waiter said, placing a glass on a nearby table.
Evan, engrossed in his music, glanced at the bar. The woman from the bathroom held a Bloody Mary and smiled at him. He couldn't recall if her name was Ava or Eva—it was a fleeting moment, not worth remembering.
As the night deepened, New York's nightlife was in full swing. Amid the revelers, Evan's absence went unnoticed. At three in the morning, he took the subway home. For Evan, who needed to save every penny, the 24-hour New York subway was a blessing.