He was incredible on the dance floor, and I zeroed in on him immediately despite the throngs of people thrashing in time to the music. Some girls like muscle-covered men who look like they just came from a bodybuilding contest, others like their men neat and sophisticated, or even the laid-back bachelor look. Not me. I've always had my wettest dreams about smooth-faced, lithe men, the "poets" or the "musician" stereotype, with their pretty eyes and soft hands and long, soft hair.
Think Keanu Reeves, Tom Cruise, Ryan Phillipe.....those were the men that got my blood pumping. My dancing boy was all that and then some: long black hair pulled back in a neat ponytail that trailed down his back, full lips, black t-shirt and black leather pants that could have been painted on his tight, lean body. The sight of him sent a tingle of heat through my body, and I set my glass down on the bar and hopped down off my seat. The song was about to end; I had to go claim him for the next dance. I pushed my way through the crowd, making my way to the section of the floor where he was at. I tapped him on the shoulder and he turned my way, bringing his dance to a finish as the DJ took a quick break.
"I want the next dance," I announced, giving him no chance of refusal. The girl in his arms glared at me, then broke away and headed off the floor. Poor thing, probably thought she had a chance at coming home with this gorgeous one tonight. I had news for her; I was going to fight tooth and nail to be the one leaving on his arm. My pleasure at her pain must have shown on my face, for I caught him watching me with a slight grin on his face. The DJ took to the booth again, and the music started up once more. I felt his arms go around me, and we fell into a natural rhythm.
Sometimes good club music is almost like good sex, it sets you writhing, grinding, twisting, sweating into another's arms. His eyes held me as we moved, the most beautiful eyes on a man I'd ever seen, crystal blue and pure as spring water. The beat was primal and so was our moves, his hands on my lower back, one knee between my slightly parted legs, hips grinding in time to the pounding speakers. My hands fisted into his sweat-drenched t-shirt, my stomach brushing against the fly of his leather pants. I could feel the erection growing under his clothing, and it set a chain heat through my body. His head dropped forward, and I could feel his breath hot against my neck. It set my nipples erect, brushing against his chest as we moved. I moved my hands around his neck, pushing my body harder into him, his lips brushing my earlobe. His tongue came out once, tasting the sweat-and-perfume mixture on my neck in one bold lick. I moaned and dipped my hips, grinding playfully against his thigh. "Are you wet?" He asked me, the whisper sending goosebumps up my skin.
"Why don't you find out?" I whispered back. I was only teasing him, baiting him along.....but he took it literally and I felt one hand slide from my lower back to my hip, then up my dress. We were hidden among a sea of dancing couples, so no one knew just how hot of a turn things were taking. I felt his fingers trace the damp satin of my thong, then slip past, touching lightly the pouting lips of my sex. I shuddered when I felt two fingers slide in me, testing my damp pussy with obvious skill. I stared up into his eyes, those eyes that burned into mine as he withdrew his fingers, then plunged them back in.