I'm not overly fond of company parties. The pretenses are too strong, and there are few people worth talking to at all. However, they are a necessary evil I have come to accept in this life.
You know my distaste for being here, and you know just how to fill that void of interest; keep my mind and body on yours. You are dressed in a suit and me in a deep burgundy dress falling loosely to the top of my breasts with a scooped back. The pleasurable tension of unfulfilled desires, peaking, receding, ebbing and flowing, is there all night. We idly sip wine, while your hands wander under the tablecloth and my napkin, over my knees, raising my skirt. You squeeze my inner thigh, teasing and tickling your fingers close to my pussy. I can feel the wetness growing between my legs. You don't move beyond light teasing and such...nothing too serious. It keeps a smile on my face as I listen to each of these dullards spin off tales of their lives and kids and homes. Am I really supposed to care?
After dessert, we move to the dance floor together. We dance for awhile, brushing our bodies close a kiss here and there; just enough tantalizing touches, that we never can resist. Our bodies are heated from the faster numbers, but a slow one comes on; a Bryan Adams tune. I smile and melt into your arms. My body molds perfectly to yours, my breasts pressed against you, giving you a perfect view down to my bare chest.
