I sat on the couch, suffering to play the inane party game. In theory it was designed to allow the group to get to know one another better, in fact it simply allowed them to alternately brag about their conquests or pry into the past of someone they were interested in. I needed the validation the group dynamic provided even if I wasn't inspired by their ingenuity. Honest with myself, I know the real reason I hate these games is because I have little to brag about and have never been the subject of prying. Fortunately the game was short lived as people broke off to their separate pleasures.
I followed someone into the kitchen. Within moments another couple of people arrived. While I don't mind cooking there were others who truly enjoyed it so I left rather then get in the way. Back in the livingroom someone else was channel-surfing. I was sure they would find something worthwhile but at that moment I lacked the patience for them to find it. I was restless. I went to the bathroom on the second floor.
Leaving the bathroom one of the women motioned from her room. Leaning in the doorway I smiled and nodded a greeting. "You wanna smoke and listen to music?" I nodded enthusiastically. She was one of the few in the group who smoked so her room was often a hangout. I'd brought my 'special blend' so I packed a pipe and shared. A few people caught the tell-tale scent and wandered quickly in. After a few rounds I rolled a cigaret and looked around to offer only to discover the two of us were alone once more. I was surprised until I remembered that we were the only ones still smoking regular cigs. Everyone else had quit.
The music was a pounding dance beat; the type that's light on meaning and heavy on the bass. Slowly I began to feel the rhythm pounding through my chest, a subculture pace maker. The electronic backdrop raced up and down my spine. I noticed one of the former smokers walk past the room and slam the barely open door shut. They're always the worst, they don't want to admit they still crave the nic. so they rail the louder at us to quit. I could feel the frustrated arrogance as an almost palpable entity. Man, that was certainly a good 'blend'. My skin tingled with the claustrophobic heat of the small room. The window did little to alleviate the smoke but the occasional breeze drifting through brushed my skin like a salve.
I turned back from the door to the music and company. She was up and dancing; gyrating sinuously to the beat. This was an unexpected thrill. She'd never broken free to dance before except at clubs. Then again I'd never seen her alone in her room before. In my mind she probably forgot I was there, I'd been pretty quiet after all. She was a great dancer. I'd say she could be a professional but truthfully she was, just ballet rather then her current style. Give her a pole and she'd have been making hundreds of dollars in singles and fives every minute. I was slightly embarrassed to realize that my body was offering its services as her pole. I shifted in my place lest she look over and see my discomfort.
The song ended and she collapsed in the comfiest chair I'd ever known. It was her room, her chair, her right. Me? I sat on the floor leaning back against the bed (legs subtly folded to mask my growing embarrassment). She looked over at me and smiled, flashing two fingers then a thumbs up. In public it would appear to be a peace sign and thumbs up. Among friends it meant '2 high!' I laughed and nodded.
"So has it really been that long?" I had no idea what she was talking about until she simply raised an eyebrow. I still wasn't positive but I hedged my bets and simply flashed a sardonic smile, nodding. She whistled. "Not anything?" Again with the disparaging smile. She was referring to my answers in the game. She shook her head. "Why no one night stands?"
"Not my style." It isn't.
"What can I say?" She shrugged sympathetically and stood to dance now that the music had once again picked up tempo. It was a small room. Sitting on the floor I was acutely aware of the relative levels of my head and her hips. My anatomy was painfully aware as it strained against my jeans. I rolled and lit another cig in record time, relying on smoking to mask breathing that was rapidly growing irregular.
After the first couple of drags and a quick hit of the ashtray I looked back up, confident once more. I shouldn't have been. She faced away from me revealing her very cute ass, only about a foot from my face. As her hips worked back and forth she flexed and swayed in time to the music. I couldn't help but gasp. Her hair flipped over her shoulder as she looked at me, smiling. With a fascinating double gyration her hips led her body around one-eighty.
I lost control of my breathing. Panicking I brought my cig up to focus. In perfect synch with the music and her hips, a hand lashed out to smack my hand aside. I barely kept a hold of the cig, my hand managing to find the ashtray without my assistance. Back and forth her hips swung slowly. With each pass she inched closer. Confused, I looked up. Her hands were locked in her hair, elbows pointing to the sky. Her eyes were closed but her smile told novels of her enjoyment of the moment.
Breathing hard, very confused and more then a little nervous I noticed her outfit. She tended towards loose clothing, even at 'home'. I'd never really noticed her body through the t-shirts, three sizes too big, and carpenter pants. Now I noticed. She was wearing black spandex pants that fit like a second skin until flaring out at her shins. To accent it she was wearing a tight purple and black-trimmed bodice. Somehow the two covered her well while leaving very little to the imagination. Well, my imagination was working pretty actively, but mostly what I wanted to do with her and what her intentions were now that her brilliant hips were inches from my nose.
The music shifted into the bridge, a slower, more sinister tempo. Her hips rolled forward, her knees bent, and her body arched backwards in counterbalance. Her intoxicating groin made contact with my chest and, still shifting left and right slightly in time to the music, began to slide down. Later I would be amazed by her body control, at that moment however I was more concerned with my own. My heart raced and I could barely breath. Socially inept instinct ordered me to run, fortunately her body trapped me against the side of the bed.
