It was just a simple dinner invitation but still, Rita was a little anxious on the drive to Lance's house. She knew that Lance's young friend, 28 year-old Nic, would be there but did not know exactly what to expect. Though she had never met him, she knew that Lance and Nic had a close relationship despite their age difference. They shared common interests in music and art. Each had a wicked sense of humor and had shared an endless stream of laughs when they worked as the sole males in a department of a female-dominated manufacturing company.
As she drove the familiar stretch of interstate, her mind drifted to what might lay ahead during this evening's activities, other than the promise of pizza and wine. Since the two guys were such good buddies, she wondered if Lance had shared any of the photos or movies he had made featuring Rita. The thought made her suddenly tense up. These were sexy, intimate photos and one of the films featured Rita dancing nude. She pictured Nic watching her naked undulations on the computer screen as the film's sultry background music permeated Lance's darkened studio. Though she was 20 years older than Nic, she was fairly confident in the powers her taut, slim body and her fluid, erotic movements could have over men of almost any age.
The tenseness Rita felt slowly evolved into a tingle that traveled down her spine and settled in her nether region. The thought of the two men becoming aroused while watching her stark naked belly-dance excited her. Rita had to admit that a man as young as Nic being interested in her was big turn-on. She imagined the men's slowly swelling members straining against the confines of their jeans as they gawked at her in the dimly lit room. She conceived the sound of unzipping of pants barely audible in the pulsating music. The vision of two figures in semi-darkness stroking thick, meaty shafts overwhelmed her conscious mind. Rita felt the car rock a bit as her two right tires breached the highway's shoulder. Suddenly she realized that her private sexual reverie had become a hazard to her safety. "Enough of this," she told herself steering the car back onto the road. Rita quickly replaced her dangerous thoughts with those of an innocent but pleasant dinner get-together.
As she pulled up in front of the house she saw Nic's car in the driveway and felt a little nervous anticipation of the unknown. Lance opened the door, hugged Rita and kissed her on the cheek. He introduced the two strangers. Rita was immediately attracted to Nic's boyish good looks and longish, curly hair. She tried reading his cherub face to determine whether he had seen her naked or not. Was it Nic's shyness or was it embarrassment that she read in his smile? She could not tell.
Rita appreciated Lance and Nic's easy-going interaction and humorous exchanges. She recognized the fact that here, she could be completely free to be the person she was. She felt good in the company of two men who knew themselves well and made no apologies for the differences between them and society's average Joe. Rita felt safe and warm. She laughed a lot and even consented to a glass of wine though she very rarely drank alcohol.
After dinner, the conversation drifted to music and the arts. The sun was now low in the sky creating a subdued light throughout the house. The stereo was playing an eclectic mix of songs with the only common thread being their sensuous mood. The music was intoxicating. Rita felt so good that she helped herself to a second glass of wine. Lance quoted Robert Motherwell: "Art is much less important than life, but what a poor life without it."
Nic spoke of the love he had for the music of his favorite composer, Chopin. There was general agreement among the three that through art and beauty the world could possibly be changed for the better.
"I wish I could sing or play an instrument like you two," Rita lamented.
"But you ARE an artist", Lance replied.
"How am I an artist?" Rita asked.
"You're a writer aren't you? Writing is an art the same as music or painting. When you write you are painting with words," Lance pronounced.
"I suppose", Rita conceded.
"And don't forget your dancing," he added quickly. Rita felt her face flush but smiled shyly.
Nic asked, "What kind of dancing do you do?"
"Oh, I don't really."
"Oh man," Lance said turning to Nic, "Her dancing is great and one of the most erotic things I've ever seen." Rita felt her face turn a deeper red.