Fiction (Adult): The Dance

She’s in a smoky bar. She’s sitting by herself, with a glass of wine, lost in the music playing and her favorite fantasy of the feeling of a man’s hips pushing, pushing repeatedly between her thighs as she twists back and forth in her seat. Breaking her reverie she notices him at the other end of the bar.

Responding to silent signals his baby blues find her eyes. The message is confirmed within milliseconds. Her body tenses. Now the dance can begin. She quickly looks away. He sends her another drink. Again, their eyes meet; she lifts the glass in thanks. Next time she looks over to see him he’s not there.

He’s walked to a crowded corner of the bar near the dj. A whisper to the dj then his eyes quickly find her for a moment of silent amazement. His gaze caresses every inch of her while the throbbing bass of the djs latest choice beats the seconds. A wad of paper hits his shoulder. When he turns the dj is spinning a cd on his index finger, nodding, with a wink.

Where is he? She wonders…oh, oh…yes! She says to herself, there he is, and here he comes. They say hello to each other. He asks if she’d like to dance. “Me?” She asks him, looking around as if she thinks he’s asking someone else sitting behind her. “oh, you ARE asking me!” She says. “Hmmm, I don’t know, I don’t really know how, I’m not a very good dancer.” Enjoying his reaction, seeing him nervous but trying so hard not to show it. After pausing for some moments, she flashes him her prettiest smile and starts laughing, after another moment, he does too. She says “of course, I’m joking, I’d love to”. Another knowing smile, while visions of the two of them holding each other close, quickens her heartbeat, imagining the thrill and the sweet sensation of his body touching hers. This makes her shiver.

Her coy nature only intensifies his already smoldering desire for her. Her dazzling eyes mesmerize him, holding his gaze. They dance in hungry passion. With each step, they draw closer. Wrapping his arm behind the small of her back, he pulls her closer, until only the thin line of desire separates them. Their hips sway in an unspoken ritual.

The song ends. She spins from his arms to leave the dance floor. Steeling his nerves, he gently tightens his grip on her hand to draw her back. The lights lower like a moonlit beach. The song is slow. She traces a hint of a smile, saying yes. The song he requested has started, he pulls her near, his arms are wrapped around her, and she can begin to experience him for the first time. Quite an embarrassment of riches for the senses, but as the song goes along, not even quite enough for her. She feels the excitement surging through her like a shot of bourbon, warming and tickling. Simultaneously, she has the desire to lay down with him, and also to climb on top of him, kissing all the while.

Lost in this thought, her panties grow damp while he holds her and they dance. Her visions continue, seeing in her mind’s eye them so completely beautifully naked together, hearing and feeling their excited breathing, the rhythm of fevered and delicious lovemaking. While her cheek touches his, she can smell him, his hormones are working on her like a narcotic.

His eyes mist at the edge of their focus. Her breath kissing his neck kindles a flame of desire as every nerve heats to a glow. Pulling her tighter against him, her breasts press into his chest while he forms stray impressions of her nude body in his mind. Her skin delicately soft. Her body delicious. Their hips continue to sway, now in an erotic foreplay smoldering their fevered sensuality begging them on. His momentary mirage of them naked, dripping, lost in passions embrace, feeling his own sex grow. A muffled grown escapes from his hushed plea. His actions instinctive and urgent. Brushing her hair back, he gently tilts her face to his. Their eyes lock; their lips draw closer at a blissfully aching slowness. His breathing hastens from the excruciating desire to touch his lips to hers.

The rapid swell of lust-filled blood coursing through his body reaches his chest with increasingly thunderous beats. Lower, she feels his anticipation raging, meeting her own with every thrust and wave of their hips. She recognizes her will vaporizing, lips instinctively moistened from a split-second trace off her tongue, she feels her mouth prepare to experience him as her lips slowly begin to part. He draws in closer still, so close that for a moment they share the same heated breath of air. A whisper of light from above, along with their own faint quiver, allows him to glimpse her wet, ready lips. It ignites his carnal urge to consume her completely right there. The hedonistic virility of his mind sees himself taking her, having her in his own way, his tongue tasting her, his hands and body feeling her — entering her.

In the salacious haze cloying between them she finds that she’s momentarily captivated by the warmth of his palm as it cradles her chin. She quickly senses that it’s more than the sex of the situation that she feels. Something is familiar and comfortable about him. It’s his energy and it’s gripping. Who is he, she wonders. Certainly she was no stranger to the few complimentary glasses of wine for a blow-job in the bathroom kind of guys, but he seems different. Right, she thought, so then that must make him tomorrow morning’s painful reminder of tonight’s wanton rollick because she couldn’t recall having any other types of contact with men since losing Bobby. She didn’t want anything meaningful with these men. The only meaningful thing in her life silently drifted to the morgue 14 months ago, forever taking with him every wish she’d ever had.

It was only relatively recently that she’d begun to act on her admission that this physical shell of a person was cruelly left with full sexual desire intact. That’s what these men were for – physical gratification, nothing more; they helped her feel alive again. Up to this point she hadn’t found anything other than a good fuck that could resurrect her sense of connection and belonging to this life. Maybe that’s why this one felt so familiar and comfortable, she knew he’d make her feel alive with his sex for as long as she could masterfully make it last.

That thought brings her back to the moment and she can feel the penetrating heat of his stiff cock against her hip. She slides her right leg around his left bringing him in where she needs it most as she slowly moves her rhythm into him and envisions herself being filled with him and the life he brings to her with every thrust. She brings her hand up to touch the tender skin of his neck now as she completely surrenders to his lips. His heart thunders in his chest and his own frenzied thoughts continue to stir his lust as their mouths meet in a slow and perfect union. A snapping charge surges through him as his tongue discovers hers. A flood of sensation bonds them and she pulls back slightly from the shock, then swipes the tip of her tongue along his upper lip, gently letting it lead her back into his mouth. His hand glides down her back pulling her tighter against him. The fleshy scent of her body tells him this is just the beginning. The strength and surety in the way he’s embracing her allows her to fully yield to him when suddenly it hits her! It’s more than something familiar and comfortable with him, what she’s feeling far exceeds that. What she feels is a sense of recollection.

His thumb caresses her cheek in tiny circles accompanying her rhythm. Tiny bolts of electricity course through him with every beat. His hand presses slightly deeper into her face feeling his moment of crisis beginning to form. This place, this moment, this woman confronts him with a new level of excitement. Beyond the pulsing of his personal crisis burst primordial sensations of … familiarity.

The karma of her eyes frays into tiny drops of emotions falling unreserved from her opaque face. The sensual glow of her being sated. Her eyes gaze at him locked in a silent prelude. The momentary meeting of two souls once separated by some jagged wedge now tether together here and now in this place. He indeed was meeting her again for the first time. His eyes follow her hoping some gentle glance might hint her heart. Footsteps from the exit, she turns to him. Her eyes smile. Then she is gone, for now, though they both know someday, somewhere, they will meet again. Then their dance will truly begin.

9 thoughts on “Fiction (Adult): The Dance

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s