Jake stared at her, especially her legs, from the next table over. He knew she was planning to be here, which is the entire reason he even came to this stupid poetry club, but he had no idea she'd be wearing that! He was incredibly thankful she'd never worn that to class or he would've flunked by now!
He rubbed the top of his thigh with one hand and gripped his beer in his other. Feeling very uncomfortable, he shifted in his seat. He loved staring at her. The way she combed her fingers through her dirty blonde curls or how seriously she listened to the performers, no matter how terrible the poem. Breathing quickly, he imagined running his hands up her amazing, curvy legs to where her skirt barely covered her ass.
Skye leaned forward, both forearms on the table, hands clutching her drink lightly. She drew swirly lines in the condensation collecting on the glass, willing Jake to stare like he always did. Every class he would choose to sit somewhere behind her, typically two seats back and one row over. Whenever she could find an excuse to glance his direction, she almost always caught his eye. They would both smile and she would look away, only he never spoke to her. She figured he must have a girlfriend or something or maybe he didn't like her as much as he seemed to. Whatever the reason, they remained classmates and nothing more. She told herself this was the test. If he could resist her in her "fuck me" skirt and push-up bra, he was either married or gay. He was here when she got to the club, so she strategically took an empty stool at the table in front of his, purposely shaking her ass as she walked. She knew Jake liked to watch her, and she liked giving him an eyeful!
The man speaking into the microphone stopped and the smokey den of the club filled with the sounds of snaps from the audience. Skye joined in, snapping half-heartedly with her right hand, sipping her cherry vodka sour with the other. She hadn't really been paying attention to his poem. She wasn't really into poetry, but it was an easy extra credit opportunity, so she was one of the first to sign up. She was trying too hard not to steal a look at Jake to see if he was watching her as she planned. Now that the performer was done, she gave him a sultry look over her shoulder only to find out her plan was working. She watched him finish off his beer, wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and place the bottle back on the table, all the while keeping his eyes locked on hers. Neither of them were smiling this time. She could see the lust in his eyes.
The lights dimmed and the stage turned red as the next reader stepped up. The room quieted down so the pair turned their attention to the poet. A beautiful, curvy black woman lifted her face to the audience as the spotlight centered on her. She had full lips, long, sexy hair and large breasts framed perfectly in a low-cut, v-neck, red dress. The drummer tapped a slow beat and her voice hummed through the speakers saying things like "lips", "tongue", and "intwined."
As she continued, Jake's eyes turned to the object of his desire. He watched her fingers making small circles on her bare knee and had a flash of what Skye might look like rubbing herself under her skirt, her head falling back while her free hand fondled her breast.
Snapping back to reality, Jake heard the word "plunging" and noticed Skye uncross and recross her legs. He wondered if her panties were lacy like he always pictured and if they would be soaking wet by the time he pulled them from her silky legs.
Skye was enthralled by the poet's sexy descriptions and found herself rubbing her leg in little circles. Her face was feeling flush. She had to resist the urge to grab an ice cube from her drink to rub along her neck and breasts. Instead, she lifted her drink, tilted her head, and touched the cold glass to her neck.
Skye seemed completely consumed by the vivid descriptions coming from the sexy poet, as did everyone else. Jake took the opportunity to silently slip out of his seat, step around the table and straddle the stool next to Skye instead, his left leg under the table, his right behind her. Her attention was on the stage, her back to him, so his movement had gone unnoticed. Jake leaned toward her, close enough to smell the sweet scent of her hair.
When he walked by her in class, she always smelled of sweet berries. He often imagined that's how she would taste. It's a wonder he got any work done with his attention always drawn to her. In addition to being smoking hot in this skirt, she was adorably fuckable on a daily basis. He would smile when she caught him staring, and she always smiled back. He suspected she liked the attention as she would often brush her hair over the shoulder where he was sitting and lean back, offering him her sweet neck to nibble on. At least that's what he imagined.
He imagined her breasts pressing into his chest as he lay on top of her. Her hands bound above her head and her legs spread. Her lips red and swollen and her eyes looking straight into his. He fantasized about her on a regular basis. In fact, he rarely thought of anything else. In his mind, he had ravaged her on their professor's desk in front of everyone. She had licked his cock like an innocent school girl in the bathroom with her shirt off and her hands tied behind her back.
He had wanted her since the moment he saw her, however, worried she wouldn't live up to his fantasies, he never asked her out. Jake was waiting for something - the right time, a sign - but he seemed to recognize both tonight when she arrived, saw him, and, swinging her hips as she went, walked to a seat easily within his view. She perched there and crossed her legs, her skirt naturally rising to the edge of her ass. Then they shared a look that meant to him, "come and get me." Maybe she was the kind of girl who liked to be chased, pursued. OK. She would get her wish, and hopefully he would get his.
Skye listened intently to the woman on the stage, being seduced by the steamy lines. She could easily picture it when the poet powerfully described how the characters climaxed. Skye was breathing quick, short breaths when the poem came to an end. The room filled with snaps, this time accompanied by several cheers. Skye took a deep breath, gulped down the rest of her drink and set the glass down. Glancing at the next table, she saw Jake was gone. Filled with sexual tension and curiosity, she started looking around to find him.
Jake watched her set down her glass and turn her head toward the empty chair where he'd been sitting. He gave her a second to wonder where he went before lightly stroking his hand down her back. Surprised, she turned to find him very close to her, smiling.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
He let his hand linger on her lower back as he spoke. The shock on her face turned into a smile as she replied shakily.
"... Uh, sure."
He flagged a waitress, ordered another beer and turned to Skye.
"And I'll have another cherry vodka sour," she added.
The waitress walked away to fill their order as another poet took the stage. This woman wasn't nearly as beautiful as the previous performer and it seemed her poem was about her cat, so Jake leaned in closer to Skye and spoke quietly.
"So, come here often?" he joked.
Enjoying the closeness, Skye leaned toward him as well, her eyes glancing down his chest.
"Actually, I'm not that into poetry. I'm only here for the extra credit."
The last part was a lie. She was here for him. She wanted him, especially after the last reading, and was wondering if he believed her lie. Jake smirked.
