The Dance Floor

The room was heavy filled with the smell of smoke, alcohol, sweat and a miasma of heavy perfume and cologne. It was dark; you could see the city lights through the open windows. Blue lights shown on the band, with a soft yellow spotlight in the center that enveloped them all. Crowded, loud. The band was playing hot. Fast jazz swing and sultry, slow torch songs. Their following had grown and grown over the past few years and she loved to watch them perform. She was always in the crowd. They could count on it.

She would stand close to the bandstand and sway to the music: always with a drink in her hand, something hard and straight. The dance floor tonight was in a renovated ballroom where the dance floor “floats.” The floor had a bounce, a give, a feeling like it was alive and a part of the dance.

The bodies pressed against her, the floor moved with an up and down motion that was caused by the crowd. She could feel the heat radiate from the close packed, moving bodies. She anticipated.

She intently watched the crowd, looking for the one. Every evening the band played, she would find the one that would help her in her search to be filled and consumed by the music. This band’s music was her life and she helped make the music. The man she was looking for could usually be found at the edges of the crowd, standing alone, and also watching. It was someone who was also consumed by the music. She scanned the crowd and the band watched her, waiting.

While she danced with the men who asked her, she would try to find him while she did the fast pace swing steps. Watching her dance was easy. She made everyone who danced with her look better, smoother, than they were. She helped them to become the dance, just as she was. Her hair flew behind her in a sheath of gold; her skirt swirling around her in soft waves of color.

By the middle of the second set, she had found him, just as she always found him. Tonight he was a man in his forties, dark brown hair mixed with some gray. Slender and just the right height for her needs, he was wearing soft, worn jeans and a black tee shirt with a fitted sport's coat. He was intently watching the band and her. His hips followed the rhythm of the beat. She danced one more swing number, keeping her eye on him, smiling and letting him know that she saw him seeing her. It was the last tune of the set. As the number ended, she pushed her hair back to fall over her shoulders and went to the bar for a drink. He watched her and then she disappeared into the crowd.

At the beginning of the last set of the night, the band started a slow twelve bar blues. She was back at the bar and she took a sip of her drink. Searching the crowd, she found that he was looking at her. She smiled, walked to him and took his hand and led him towards the stage. The sound was so loud it was difficult to talk. If she had her way, she would not need to say a word to him. They would communicate through the music, through the dance.

She put her drink down on the bandstand and started to dance in front of him. Her skirt swirled around her and softly touched him. She was close enough that he could smell the sweat scent of her perfume and the smell of her heat. She reached out and took his hands and led him to her beat. The crowd enclosed them and held them close together. She held their clasped hands to her hips and moved from side to side against his body. The dance floor moved with them creating a wave of its own. She could see the band and they could see her. Just as she suspected, he moved with her and against her with the music. She took up the rhythm of the sax and he chose the bass and they moved to the same beat at different speeds, their bodies touching and moving against each other, from them and from the dance floor. The floor was alive beneath them, making it apart of them.

She twirled under their clasped hands and ended up with her back against him, she could face the band and still dance with him. She caught the eye of the sax player. She knew he would be a player with them. He smiled and then watched her intently as he began to play for her. She leaned into her dance partners heat and drew his hands to her hips and slid them underneath her loose fitting top to her breasts. He nestled his nose into her hair just above her ear and she could feel the heat of his breath and the beat of his heart. His hands molded her breasts under her blouse. His thumbs found her nipples and lightly rubbed them with his thumbs to the beat of the music. They grew as he made them erect and hard. She opened the front clasp on her silk bra and put his hands against her moist skin. His hands were hot and hard, but smooth against her skin. She moaned as he lightly pinched and tugged on her nipples. The wetness was flowing in her center. He was very hard behind her and she arched herself against him.

He twirled her around and back into his arms. They were tight together and the stage was just inches from their legs. The crowd gyrated around them, keeping them close. He looked into her eyes as they danced, putting one hand back on her breast. Her hips rubbed his and the steel hardness of his shaft pressed against her. She looked at the sax player and his eyes were intently on her, just as they always were during the dance, and his music pushed her towards the man in her arms.

Her hand went down to his jeans and unbuttoned and unzipped them. They were standing ear to ear. Her hand found his hardness. She touched the soft skin with feather light fingers. It was wet with his heat. She looked in his eyes and brought her finger up to his lips for him to lick. His tongue ran around her fingertip. She took his hand and slid it under the waistband of her skirt under which she was naked. Hairless. She left his hand their while she returned to his hard cock. His finger slipped between her lips and touched her button and she moaned. She was wet and slick. His fingers kept time to the music and she spread her legs so he could reach further into her. The music was never ending, no breaks in the tunes, sliding into the next seamlessly as the couple on the dance floor played with each other.

She loved the feel of a hard cock. She found she was tapping the beat on the head, right at the slit, anticipating what would come from it when they were ready. Her fingers grasped him and, as her hand was covered with his juice, she could easily slide it up and down his length while still tapping the head with her thumb.

She road his hand and the floor helped propel his fingers into her. She was so hot and so close to cumming. She raised her skirt up in front and put his hard cock between her lips, replacing his hand. He slipped himself into the moist cleft. She threw her head back and used him as he had used his fingers. Raising herself up onto her toes she was able to get him to the center of her, and he entered her, hard. She looked up and the sax player was watching them intently.

His hands went to her bottom under her skirt. He grasped her and shoved himself, harder and harder, in and out while the dance floor moved up and down. The music became faster, following the dance. Their breathing was coming in gasps. She pushed one more time and came with a moan of fulfillment. Her tunnel clamped down on him in spasms and he came hard, his hips bucking into her, grunting to finish his cum. She road him as the music slowed, leaving him inside of her until he became soft and slipped out of her folds and their mixed cum ran down her legs. With the final drumbeat she slipped away from him and her skirt fell. The crowd exploded with applause for the band.

Her lover put his horn down and came off the stage. He looked into her eyes, putting her hand on his rock hard cock. “You were the music, tonight babe. It was one of the best.”

Together they smiled at her dance partner, and walked away.

*****

Thank you in joining me in the dance. Please give me feedback so I can get greater enjoyment in pleasing you.