We danced to Mil Pasos and then to Devil Like You, kind of clumsily which was, for us, uncharacteristic. She wasn't concentrating, she admitted, so we called it quits and went upstairs.
She had on a smart short sleeve blouse and nice slacks for dancing. I was in jeans and a T-shirt. Our mismatch was an unintended part of a cover.
Our relationship required discretion. Secrecy. We were both married, that is, and although we could be seen in public together, like when dancing, with us living in a small town, our behavior was subject to scrutiny, gossip, and reputational ruin. So I was to meet her as usual at our local dance practice venue on this Wednesday afternoon ostensibly to swing dance. But we wanted to practice another kind of dance instead.
Living just down the street, she walked over dressed up to dance, and I sat in the car in casual clothing, not intending to get out. Our plan was that once she arrived, we would discover the workers making a lot of noise nailing clapboards to the front of the building. Being unable to contemplate dancing with the pounding, we would make the decision instead to dance in my vacant house.
All went well. Other than two builders busying themselves with siding, we saw no one else. So I drove us home.
Upstairs in the quiet of the gallery, as we called the spare bedroom, we hugged for a long while, synchronizing our breathing, until we could restrain ourselves no longer. We moved our lips together and although I was poised for a slow approach to a union of soft lips, she kissed me back with ferocity.
It didn't take me long to surrender to her need. I unbuttoned the top buttons of her blouse, as she was furiously kissing me. Stepping back, I lifted it off and over her head, inside out, and flung it into the corner. I undid the clasps of her bra leaving it in place, but she immediately tossed it aside.
Then she took off my T-shirt over my head, also inside out, and mirrored my act, throwing it against the wall. She undid my jean's snap, unzipped them to reveal my sexy red underwear which she made but a passing glance at, more interested in getting to what was concealed inside.
Dropping to her knees, she yanked down my jeans and helped me step out of them. I stayed in my underwear as she hurriedly bent over to push down her own slacks.
This woman is in heat, I thought. Trying to slow us down, I rubbed my palms in circles over her buttocks adorned with sexy lacy pink underwear as she was bent over, and lavished probably unheard compliments on her new lingerie.
We shed our final garments and stood naked in front of each other. This was going to be only our second love dance, the first being that evening outside my car under the stars. We had just returned from swing dancing, had pledged to be love dancers, and almost got caught in the act. So not really knowing each other very well, I suggested that we get into bed and find out what each of us liked, didn't like, and were maybe neutral about. She liked that idea.
We kissed a bit standing, caressed each other's nakedness, but I felt more comfortable not fighting gravity. We took down the quilt, the blanket, and finally the top sheet, and laid down on the red linen.