It was so damn hot in the club with all the people pressed together, moving in time to the fast beat of the band. The volume was cranked up high so that the pounding bass pounded the sidewalks two blocks away. Breathing was a chore, but most of the people there were too drunk to notice. Everyone else was having too much fun dancing and flirting, drinking and partying.
Isabel was having an awesome time.
She was dressed in a skin hugging, barely legal, very mini, black leather skirt. Her top, a delicate lacy thing, barely managed to hold in her large perky breasts, all while showing off an impressive amount of cleavage. She had on her favorite pair of ass kicking boots that stopped just below her knees. Milky white skin continued onward from there, enticing the eye to travel the long, toned expanse of her thighs with an eager eye. Men ogled her as she and her wild mane of black curls, which cascaded midway down her back, bounced along with the band.
Isabel had come for only one thing: a man. She didn't need luck to find one; they always gravitated towards her perfect hourglass form, her perfect porcelain doll face. Add that she was fiercely horny to those usual temptations and no man could resist. Unfortunately for them, Isabel was picky. Not just any man would do.
So she danced the hours away, changing partners faster than they could blink. One minute they were the luckiest men in the world, the next they were dancing like idiots, completely alone. She'd let them feel her body if they wanted. They groped her breasts, her hips, and an industrious few managed to slip a finger or two into the tiny thicket of hair between her thighs. She didn't care; Isabel loved the feeling of a man's hands on her. Preferably more than one man's hands.
At this moment, she was dancing with a mediocre looking man who greatly amused her with his attempts in seducing her. His eyes rarely left her bouncing breasts (not that she could blame him), and he pressed his profusely sweating body far too close for her taste. A hand was inching its way up the back of her thigh when Isabel noticed something out the corner of her eye.
Not something, but someone.
What a man like that was doing in a place like this, she couldn't explain. It didn't matter, though. She had already left Mediocre Man behind, and was making her way slowly towards where she had last caught sight of him. At a loss, Isabel spun around in a circle, searching for the giant of a man who had disappeared before she could reach him.
Before she could think, a different man had pushed himself into her line of vision. He wasn't Giant Man, but he wasn't Mediocre Man either. He had bright shining blond hair that fell charmingly into his glacier blue eyes. His face was handsome; his body muscled like a sleek carnivorous cat. She smiled at him, encouraging his rather aggressive tactics of getting her attention.
He pulled her body close to his, and when she breathed in his musky perfumed scent, relaxed in his capable arms as they glided together to a sexy slow song. A hand, cupping the round globes of her ass, pressed her against a thigh that had slipped in between hers. Leisurely, they did a sensual bump and grind, and Isabel could feel the insistence of his desire pressing into her belly.
A low groan made her pulse spike. She could imagine him groaning just that way as she impaled herself onto his obviously large cock. Isabel could hardly wait.
Golden Man nibbled lightly on her ear, sending hot little shivers racing down her spine. His hands roamed more freely along her body that any other man had dared, and her blood tingled in anticipation of having those hands roaming across her naked body.
Suddenly, she was jerked away from her sexy Golden Man. For a moment, she could see the jealous anger contorting his face, but then her vision was filled with the incredible sight of her disappearing Giant Man. His large hands were closed tightly around her arms, and she vaguely wondered if there would be a bruise darkening her delicate skin tomorrow morning.
"Where did you go running off to?" Her voice was breathless; its usual sexy smoky sound deepened by surprised delight. His eyebrow rose as if asking a question, but he didn't utter a word.
His eyes were gray, she noticed, and his hair a blacker shade than hers. His body, packed with muscle, stood almost a foot above her own, and Isabel felt more feminine than she had ever before while standing in the shade of her Giant.
The music had changed from slow to fast, yet they swayed together as if in a world of their own. They never broke eye contact, and his hands never moved from the swell of her hips. He didn't speak at all to her, but their bodies were communicating perfectly. This was the man she was waiting for.
At some silent agreement, Giant Man tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, and they both turned to leave. Before they could go far, however, Golden Man had recovered and had grabbed a hold of her other arm to try, unsuccessfully, to pull her from the Giant's grasp.
"Excuse me," his voice was high, annoyed that she could so completely forget him in lieu of this barbarian of a man, "we were dancing."
Giant Man took one look at this pipsqueak of a man (when compared to himself), and rumbled like snow during an avalanche, "Not anymore."
He shoved the man away, and Golden Man went sprawling onto the dance floor like a rag doll. Isabel giggled, only slightly saddened that she was going to miss out on a man who almost looked like a golden god. But then she looked at Giant Man and decided that a cowboy much better suited her mood.
