It is Elena's birthday party, Elena is turning 35 and had decided to throw a big nineties party. The kind of party for people in their early to mid-thirties who do not party as much as they used to and like it when they get to. Elena is a colleague of Sam, my wife.
Sam and I are very much the target group: on most Friday evenings, we fall asleep on the couch at 10 PM after a long workweek, and although we like to dance and paint the town, somehow it is very low on our priority list.
Tonight though is very much on, the party spot is a place we used to frequent when we were students, the people are our kind of people and the music is very much our kind of music. I wear blue jeans and a black T-shirt. Sam is wearing a little black dress and black sneakers. It is summer and the place was only 500 meters away from where we live, so there's no need for jackets.
We know quite a few people at the party. We drink a bit, dance a bit, talk to interesting people, and drink some more. Overall, we have a good time.
Somewhere mid-monologue, a story from a past holiday in Oman, Sam stops speaking, smiles a big smile, and screams "Tim!"
A dark-haired guy, in his late twenties or early thirties, square-jawed, slim built and carefully dressed turns, beams in Sam's direction and comes our way. They hug and kiss each other's cheek (we are European, it is what we do). Tim had done a six-month stint at Sam's workplace a year ago. Sam had loved Tim from the get-go. He was funny, smart, caring, took initiative... all the things Sam likes in her colleagues.
She would rave at home about him: how happy she was that he was in her team, how she hoped he could stay, the books they had both read, the theories of psychology they both liked and disliked (she's a psychologist)... For a few months, he was her best friend and his name would be mentioned at the dinner table. A few weeks before he changed jobs he came to eat at our place and I got to know him as a very affable and attractive guy. I understood how Sam liked him.
Tim introduces himself to some people, shakes my hand warmly, holding on a bit longer than necessary. After a few minutes of how-have-you-been-and-where-do-you-work-now chit chat, the DJ plays a great song by the Strokes, and much of the party moves to the barely-lit dance floor. We dance together. We dance apart. Sam has this sexy dance where she dances seductively with me.
She becomes all swaying hips. Nothing dirty, just flirty and sexy, and then she leaves me and dances alone for a bit. Then she moves to dance with another girl or with another guy and does the same. It's all harmless fun. If I had a body like hers I'd do the same.
The Strokes get replaced by other 90s classics. Sam dances with me, with Tim, with other guys and girls. When a new DJ arrives the music changes, more soul, more funk, and more groove: Sam Cooke, Curtis Mayfield, James Brown. So we dance closer. More tender. While dancing close with Sam, she pushes and grinds her behind into my crotch.
Earlier she danced like a flirt, now there is a sexual charge. Tim appears in front of her. We sandwich her together. Two men friskily caress her svelte body. Just 10 seconds. My hands massage her butt and hips. His hands are on her side and shoulders. We move in unison together. I disengage, dance apart, They stay close. They touch each other, pet each other, and grind against each other.
A bit later Sam dances in my direction and pushes her body straight into mine. We move together. My upper leg is applying pressure on her nether region. Her breasts are on my chest. She brings her lips to my ear and in a husky voice, she says: "Can we take him home?" I lift an eyebrow, though, with her cheek on my cheek, there is no way she can see that. "Does he want to be taken home?" "I am sure he will want to if I ask it nicely." She says and gives me her faux-innocent look.
We do not often discuss threesomes, but I know this is something she would love to try, and tonight is as good a night as any.
