Just because I love Toronto, doesn't mean I can dance there.
Rose dragged me halfway across the continent to the T-Dot, and I dragged her to a Blue Jays game. In revenge, she insisted that we go to a dance club on Bathurst for Asian night. I don't dance, or rather, I dance, but terribly. It would not be my want to go to a dance club, but Rose insisted I chaperone her; the last time she had gone dancing, she had made out with a man who was not her fiancee, and she did not want to repeat that drama. All of which left me trying to dance with her, trying to keep up with her frenetic hips. The music was some Indian song. They played the accompanying music video on giant screens: a wizard turned a woman into a basketball; a man with fangs exploded into a puff of purple smoke. The music had a time signature so strange, so unfindable, that I don't think anyone with an even number of limbs could feel graceful dancing to it. Rose looked graceful, however, as did a few other couples on the floor. Most of them though, had the cultural advantage of being of Indian extraction. The only exceptions to the smooth dancers were all Indian rule, were Rose, and a couple in the corner, a small, Asian girl, and a taller, slender blonde woman. They were sinuous, wrapped around each other, finding a sensuous rhythm somewhere hidden deep inside the strange beat. They looked incredible together.
"Who are you looking at?" Rose leaned in to ask me, as she swayed closer to me, wrapping her arms around me for the first time that evening.
"That couple in the corner," I told her, as I put my hands on her hips, leaning into her ear so I could be heard over the thrum of sitar and bass.
"The tall Indian guy with the girl with the gold dress?" Rose asked.
"No, the asian girl and the blonde. Over by speakers," I told her. Rose twisted us around, in perfect step to the beat.
"Hmm. Hot. You would go for that."
I grinned. "You know me well."
"What's a best friend for?" She asked, smiling back.
"Apparently, best friends are there to chaperone your drunken ass back to the hotel." I said, sticking out my tongue out at her.
"Best friends are there to act as a wingman," Rose said, winking at me. "I think I need something to drink." She sashayed off, taking a circuitous route to the bar. Wait... she's headed into that corner? Where the girls are taking a breather? She's talking to them? She's... Rose is pointing at me, and smiling, and the girls are giggling? And now... now, Rose and the Asian girl are waving me over towards them? And my legs, without my volition at all, are moving towards them, zombiewalking their way to the corner where Rose has the two lovely girls.
"Kinch, this is Amy and Rachel," Rose introduced. We nodded at each other, smiled, and looked at Rose for guidance as to what we should all do next.
The music picked up again at that moment, switching from Bollywood to J-Pop, the beat now completely understandable, my movements graceful for the first time this evening.. Rose and I fell back into rhythm, dancing together. Rachel and Amy danced next to us; I kept furtively glancing over at them, and caught Amy grinning back at me.
In another story, written in another forum, I would find a way to describe the next hour. I would have details of how Amy was the one who wanted us to switch, to dance with me, while Rose danced with her pretty blonde friend. How eventually I got to dance with the comely blonde as well. How when we switched back, Amy and Rachel danced closer, whispering to each other and then looking at me and giggling, losing their beat for a moment. I won't describe how eventually, after dancing with Rose, Amy pulled me outside with Rachel, leaving Rose behind and dancing with a tall clean cut man as Amy ushered me and Rachel into a cab. I'll describe none of that, and pick up with us three abreast in the back of the cab, Amy in the middle, flanked by me and her lovely blonde friend.
Amy gave the driver an address and then turned to look at me. I stared into the well of her eyes for a full minute before she turned away and immediately gave Rachel a passionate kiss. I watched Rachel start shy, passive, receiving the kiss and not returning it at first, but eventually giving in to Amy's kiss, her shoulders going slack, her shy tongue darting out around the edge of their liplock.
They parted, and Rachel looked wrecked by the kiss; she was slumped down against the door of the cab, eyelids fluttering. Amy looked invigorated, and swooped into me for a kiss as well, her eyes glowing. Her kiss was light and exploratory. She pulled back and looked at me thoughtfully.
"Rachel," Amy explained, "hasn't been with a man since high school. Well, a boy, then, and it wasn't any good. So you are coming home with us, for her." Rachel looked at me shyly, and then turned away, so all I could see was blushing, freckled cheeks. "Think you can handle that?"
I reached out for Rachel's hand, and softly tugged her towards me. She allowed herself to be pulled in, and we kissed, inches from Amy's face, leaning into her lap. I could feel one of Amy's nipples chug up and make its presence known against my arm.
"That's enough, for now," said Amy, pushing us apart. "No sense in giving the cabbie a free show." I saw him grin at me, at us, through the mirror. Rachel, still blushing but glowing, rested a hand on Amy's thigh. I placed my other hand on Amy's other leg, mirroring Rachel. Rachel's hand began to creep in a northerly direction, slowly, teasing fingertips up Amy's leg. I did the same, tracing light circles with the tips of my fingers. Rachel went higher, and so did I. Rachel's fingers stopped somewhere hidden beneath Amy's skirt; I stopped my fingers there. Rachel's knuckles and mine were touching, caught deep in between Amy's thighs, our fingertips resting comfortably, casually, just inside her skirt at the edge of where Amy's panties left off. I could feel Amy's leg tense, shaking, wanting to draw is in, but also wanting to hold off, patience and impatience warring inside her.
We got out of the cab and went into a beautiful old building. We didn't say anything as Amy led us each by the hand up a few flights of stairs and into an untidy apartment.
We both attacked Rachel. Amy got to her first, and pulled her taller friend to her, and kissed her ferociously, so they were almost spinning around. I snuck up to her from behind, my hands softly on her sides under the hem of her shirt, my lips tracing innocent circles around her shoulders, and on the nape of her neck. My hands were tight around her waist, while Amy's hands were working their way under Rachel's shirt, pulling it off and over her head, exposing a purple bra. I quickly unsnapped it from the back and kissed the imprint of skin the strap had made in the center of her back, reaching to cup a breast, perfectly formed and rosy tipped, her blonde hair falling into my eyes. Rachel basked in the attention.
Amy kissed her way down, past her navel and started to shimmy Rachel's skirt down her thighs, bringing the purple lacy panties down with them, and finally pulling Rachel onto the floor, on top of Amy, so that they were in a 69 position, with Amy on the bottom, albeit full clothed. The room began to fill with the smell of aroused woman. Amy kissed Rachel's smooth pubis, and began to slide her way, her slow tongue, down to Rachel's proud little clit, already opened up and ready to be worked on. Amy wasted little time in circling her blonde friend's precious button with her tongue. I, watching all of this, came from behind and began to kiss Rachel's lower back, working her way down her legs, kissing the firm, downy cheeks of her ass, and I finally swung my tongue into her pussy, tasting Rachel's sweetness for the first time. She dampened even deeper creating more wetness for my tongue, for Amy's mouth. Rachel moaned into Amy's jeans, her breath getting shorter and shorter. When her hips quaked, a low moan came out of Rachel's mouth, and she delighted us by bathing our tongues in her delicious nectar. Rachel collapsed atop Amy, exhausted. I rolled off of them both, and Amy pushed Rachel to her side.
