# White Moon

The night had long since fallen when Anton shut the door behind him and set out to find company for the remaining time until the sun came up again in the morning.

He had spent the day locked in the office, that infernal day that had marked him forever. The abrupt fall of the Scholarships had obliged him to overtime with great fatigue, and the arrival at home, in search of some rest, was not what he had conjectured; Took a bath, which he thought rejuvenating, ate a tuna sandwich and stretched out on the couch.

He switched on the television.

With the sandwich in one hand and the control of the television in the other, he developed a zapping for something, nothing in particular, that attracted his attention and led him to relax, so that he could fall asleep and finally be able to rest. It was, however, in vain such a design, since in a large part of the general channels there were only debates about the stock market crash, with supposed technicians to argue arguments that technician Anton in the area repudiated in general, According to him, more than conspiracy theories, commissioned or developed by someone who wanted to keep that place of commentator of everything and perceiver of nothing.

The movie channels, those he paid monthly at absurd prices, were bored and his couch, his couch friend who in the most difficult days usually wrapped him up, until that night had abandoned him, avoiding his role as creator's technical artifact of sleep; Round and round. Anything!

Stood up.

He walked over to the wine cellar and poured himself a dose of Jack Daniels. He drank it in one gulp and felt the heat of the drink burn his esophagus as he passed. He poured himself a new dose, tasting the malt, the sip.

He zapped again on the television. Nothing interesting.

He poured himself another whiskey.

- If it's to drink, I have to find company to accompany me.- he thought aloud.

Glanced at the watch he had placed on the wall in front of the sofa, even on the television.

- Two forty-three in the morning. Where am I going to get company at this hour?

He was determined to find sleep or someone to help him fight the insomnia that bothered him. Dressed, got on his feet and, taking the car keys, went down to the garage.

Sitting at the wheel, with his engine running, he looked in the mirror; He saw himself. He ran his hands over his head and then down his face. He rubbed his eyes a little, feeling them with a slight burning.

- If I drive now, I'm still going to screw up. - he said to his reflection in the rearview mirror.

Turned off the engine, got out of the car, and locked it with the doors. He picked up his cell phone and called a UBER driver.

- Where to, gentleman? - the driver asked.

- Take me, please, to White Moon.

- Yes sir! That's it. - said the man at the wheel, starting the march of the dark-colored Mercedes.

White Moon was a nightclub where dancers developed the dance pool, much frequented by London's high society. Anton, a Portuguese emigre in the United Kingdom, whom his work colleagues affectionately call "Ant, the Portuguese", because being very applied in the task that he plays, they compared him to an ant in the toil.

Anton had visited the White Moon a half-dozen times. However, despite all the times she had been offered female company, he never wanted it and always refused, under the pretext of an alleged bride in Portugal.

But that night was different; He needed company and knew he would find her there without any future commitment.

The arrival at White Moon occurred at 3:15 a.m. He knew that the next day, the one who would race in a few hours, would be very troubled and that, at 8:40 hours, he would have to board the high-speed train bound for Paris. They waited for him in the French capital for a meeting of economists, senior executives of the multinational M.O.M. To discuss future strategies for international intervention in the various financial markets.

He knew he should be sleeping and resting, but he also knew that he was so repelled by a strange energy that he needed to dissipate it in some way.

- Anyway, I can sleep on the trip. - he thought.

When he reached the interior of the White Moon, Anton was immediately directed to a table set in a discreet corner, with no direct light, isolated on an island camouflaged with a few disguising props of prying eyes.

- Lord, what will it be? - Asked one of White Moon's collaborators, who tonight wore a white short skirt, a white top that showed her generous breasts. He wore high-heeled black shoes.

- Jack Daniels, - he said, causing her to pull away, returning the next moment with his request.

- Do you want anything else? - she infused.

- Only if it's your company.-  said Anton, in a gallant, Latin manner, looking sideways at the empty place beside him.

- One moment please! The girl turned away and went to the bar. Anton stared at her in the distance, talking to the owner of the Bar, looking at both of them in their hardness. Then he saw the man nodding, nodding, and the young woman walking toward him.

- Here I am! - said the girl, sitting down beside her.

- And what does it take?

- A glass of Moet & Chandon Dom Perignon.

- Well, be it! - said Anton, making a subtle gesture towards the bar. Immediately another girl approached.

- Did you call, sir?

- Bring me a bottle of Moet & Chandon Dom Perignon and another bottle of Jack Daniels, Black Lable, please.

- It's for now. - said the girl, returning immediately - Here it is! - sending a wink to the young woman who was now accompanying Anton.

At White Moon there was a Pool Dance show with sensual music and ballerinas of various nationalities and a charming, attractive and addictive beauty to the many businessmen on the move. At the most exposed tables, some of these men were enjoying the human beauty that was witnessing them with some more intimate flashes, starring the dancers. Sometimes cups were raised in the direction of the stage where the spectacle was taking place, the young woman who was showing her beauty approached, receiving a note which the man placed in a white garter that she wore on one of her thighs.

Anton, sheltered from the light with his company, was consuming his malt and her champagne. The spaces were kissing and touching, subtly, with some discreet laughter in the middle. The Portuguese put his hand between his legs and took off his briefs, putting them in his pocket. The woman, stroking Anton's tanned genitals, reached her ear and, after passing her tongue moistened by her ear, murmured to him:

- Fuck me!

- Only if he comes here, - replied Anton, drunk with whiskey and with an ardent desire for sex.

Loosening his trousers with both hands, as he kissed her on the mouth, the girl took the erect phallus out of the way, and settled on it, made it slide itself inward, first softly and later at a fernic rhythm

At White Moon customers were leaving the Bar, Anton was keeping in the dark corner with his partner in a rampant sexual rhythm. The morning was coming. At 6:35 in the morning, Anton left the White Moon with the girl who had accompanied him during those hours and headed home. He knew that in a short time he had a train to catch. However, he would still have time, he thought, to go home to take an invigorating bath, to two, to eat anything and go towards Stª. Pancras Station.

The clock ticked at 6:51 a.m. when the UBER vehicle stopped at the building. He paid eight pounds and left with his companion. Went upstairs, put his keys in the door, and closed it behind him as he entered. The two lovers intertwined, undressed, even there in the flat, once again, they made sex, with her leaning against the door of the apartment and the sound of the door echoing down the stairs of the building, with every thrust of Anton.

They moved to the bathroom, with the girl by the lap of the Portuguese, nestled in each other. Then, after Anton had put the water in the shower running, what followed was a madness of a mixture of screeches and grunts, full of pleasure and sensations.

They were both engaged in a ritual of unbridled sex when they were suddenly awakened and called to the World with a violent crash.

- What was that? - Anton wondered.

- It sounded like an explosion!- said the young woman.

It was a few seconds of anticipation when they felt the building start shaking again with a new burst. They stormed out into the living room. They wanted to know what was going on. Scared, they turned on the television and Skynews was already advancing that - ... an alleged terrorist attack occurred ... - Anton looked at the clock - ... 8:42 hours! Fuck you! - he murmured.

- What is it? - she asked him.

- I missed the train.

 - Miguel Branco - London 8:39