Song number four and still dancing. Charlotte Gift was feeling a whole lot better emotionally after a long day of unexpected revelations. The Eagles were simply perfect to ease her pain, her next-door neighbor Brock helping her to get past the bad times. She relished every moment of his evening swagger. For a man who just ten minutes ago told her he wasn't trying to get her into bed he sure had a ferocious hard on jabbing her in the ass as they swayed to Victim of Love. The words of Don Henley were cutting through her soul like a knife. Brock's dull blade in her backside was only making her feel more wanted than ever. Wine and Benzodi's in her system her hormones were going insane. She might just need to make the first move herself. Worth a shot!
Turning in Brock's embrace she faced him chest to chest and threw her arms around his neck. Sad Cafe beginning she stared into his eyes and simply danced. Eyes that cherished his attention. He simply stared back without expression. His hands on her spine gradually creep lower to her ass. She was not saying stop. Not even when his fingers toyed with her skirts zipper. She knew he wanted to pull it down and seek what lie beneath. Her intoxicated state was anxious to see if he would without her doing it for him. Subtle nibbles at her lower lip were shared as if a nudge in the right direction, which meant down. "Just do it Brock. I'm ready to test my limits." Thoughts not spoken it was her hope he might read her mind.
"CDs about done. What other music do you like?"
"Silence!" She whispered, "The kind where you can hear a zipper drop." She hoped he heard her, but it was barely a mumble. Wincing at her he must have because his fingertips pinched the head of the zipper and began drawing it downward ever so slowly. Each click she bit her lip harder as if in anticipation that her skirt might begin sliding down. Fully unzipped there was a lot of play in the material.
"Should I stop?" He knew she was aware of what his intentions were. A negative nod he went for it. All the way down the white skirt slipped a tad as predicted. Only his hands moving beneath it pulled it taunt enough to keep it on her hips, squeezing her bare ass, she melted as embedded fingertips captured her imagination enough to lay her head on his chest. Even with no music they danced. It felt wonderful to be touched. "Doing okay Char?"
"Take it off of me." She whispered. "Take everything off of me." Eyebrows rising at her offer he removed his hands from beneath her skirt and lightly tugged at the sides and let it slip down her legs into a wrinkled mass as if an upside-down halo on the ground. She kicked it away and they resumed dancing a bit longer. Looking up at him over his shoulder she noticed Kramer, Elvis, and Owen standing outside drinking and watching as they had earlier. Brock's lead circled them in step until she couldn't see the trio any longer.
"Looks like the boys are back. Are you handling the eyes, okay?"
"I did fine earlier, I can manage. I... know I turned them on, they all had this." She reached one hand between them and rubbed his tented erection. Giggling she apologized only to have him growl at her like a bear. "Now I ask you, are you telling me to stop?"
"Not the touching part. Just the apologetic part. When are you going to get it into your head you have nothing to be sorry over? Enjoy the moment. Ready for the shirt to go?"
"Whenever you're ready to reveal me to the world." She smiled, "I can do this." Hands rising from her cheeks up under her blouse he guided it higher, forcing her to raise her arms just enough to guide it along her biceps then over her head. Tossed into her chair he never missed a beat in dancing. Charlotte Gift was naked once again. A glance toward Charlie's, she saw him standing in his doorway drinking a beer of his own. "Charlie is outside too. Did you tell them I might join you tonight?"
"I did!" He chuckled.
"I knew it." She winced at him with a smirk. "What did they say about me earlier?"
"That you beat Monica any day."
"Oh, come on! My daughter is a model and barely legal. She is every man's fantasy. You should know."
"I won't lie, I fantasize about Monica sure, but I do you too. In a lot of ways, I prefer you and I'm not just saying that because you're naked in my arms. Age speaks volume, you're gorgeous at 38."
"Nice try! I'm 40."
"Even better. You look like 30."
"I thought you weren't trying to have sex with me."
"Failing miserably." He chuckled. "Only if you want that. I will not push you into anything. I will say this though. All four of our voyeurs did say they'd give their left nut to make love to you."
"No, they did not." Awestruck expression she winced with curiosity, "You're making that up."
"Am I?" He twirled her to face the trio. "HEY FELLAS? She doesn't believe you guys want to make love to her." That was all it took, all three of them began to cross the alley to join them. She was trembling like a leaf in Brock's arms. "Be gentle, I don't want her to pee on my toes. Bad enough she steps on them."
"I have not stepped on your toes once Brock Quinones. Don't you dare believe him." She found Elvis in the lead, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. Before Brock even let her hand go Owen claimed her other hand and kissed that set of knuckles. Cooing at their gentle expression of admiration her nipples increased to full formation, all for Kramer in the middle to enjoy. Kramer the make and model guy always did appreciate a new set of headlights. High beam the best.
"Delighted Madame! You look lovely this evening." Elvis smiled.
"Thank you."
"I concur!" Owen added, "A vision in the moonlight." Kramer rubbed his chin but lost his nerve. This was his neighbor's wife. It felt wrong even if he had taken a little blue pill just in case. Seeing his reluctance Charlotte peeled from Brock behind her holding her hips and moved between Elvis and Owen, their fingers still holding hers as if an elegant escort toward Kramer. She felt like Marilyn Monroe.
"Hello Kramer. I seem to be out of knuckles."
