Cha-Cha

Mentor

Chapter 8 - Cha-Cha

Monday deserved a special effort, I felt, since the previous Monday I was tired and unimaginative. I took the time to wind about two-thirds of my hair into a wide braid, leaving the rest to lie where it may, down my back or over my ears, and a few strands loose in the front. There was a maxi-length gypsy-style skirt in blue and green paneling with loops of gold chain at the hem which I'd only worn only once. I paired it with a pale yellow crop top, then added wire flower dangle earrings.

Fall had, well, fallen, and it had been a cool day. Not cold enough for my heavy jacket, but the evening might turn that way, so I slipped it on. I wore flats for driving, but took my medium heels to change into.

Emma and Tiff were present, but Margot and Heather were making preparations for the party at the coffee shop. There wasn't a band playing this week, but they'd still taken one of the tables near the dance floor. Suse and Val hadn't shown up, and Anita wasn't around, though it was still early. She hasn't been around the previous week, which I'd expected at the time, since she'd left my place in the early hours of Monday morning. Now I couldn't help wondering if her absence was connected with the date Margot had mentioned.

I'd half finished my Gold Dragon - yes, Michelle had adopted the name, apparently having spoken to Imani after I'd left the previous week - when I felt a light touch on my shoulder. I turned to meet the dark eyes of Imani herself. "I hoped you'd be here," she said.

"Hey, Imani!" I greeted her enthusiastically. "Join us!" I indicated the remaining chair.

"I'd only come to ask you to dance," she said, "but sure." She looked up at my friends. "Emma and Tiff, right? I'm Imani."

They each briefly held Imani's dark hand. "We met last year, I think," said Tiff. "But if you've come to ask Kayla to dance, I guess I can skip my task for this evening."

Imani's eyebrow rose, and I explained, "Tiff has appointed herself my pi... uh, my recruiter. Her goal in life seems to be to make sure I don't go home alone."

Imani's eyes skimmed my outfit. "That should be an easy goal to achieve," she said.

Tiff smirked. "Not that I'm making any assumptions about what her dancing might lead to," she said. "But if she's out socializing, well," she shrugged, "there's not much for me to do, is there?"

Within a couple of minutes, Tiff, Emma and Imani were animatedly comparing histories, courses and professors they each had, and I took a moment to let my gaze travel over my new friend.

She was wearing a black midi-length tank dress. Its neckline was gathered into a knot at the lowest point, forming a deep V with a very intimate view of her high, dark breasts. The back of the dress dipped in a curve, exposing smooth skin around her shoulder blades. Like me, she was wearing heels. Her braids were bound with a black band into a tail, and from each ear dangled three squares of colored glass in a line, connected by their corners, framed in what appeared to be pewter. Each of the glass squares was a different color.

"I've been practicing," Imani was telling Emma.

"Practicing what?" I asked, breaking out of my reverie.

Imani laughed. "You tuned out, didn't you? Cha-cha. I watched YouTube vids and tried the steps in front of the monitor. Which is why I need you to dance with me."

"Oh, right," I said. "Well, if you've all finished gossiping about professors, let's go."

"How quickly they forget after graduation," said Emma. And it was probably true. College felt far behind me. My friends were really my only connection to it.

"We won't wait up for you," said Tiff, hearkening back to my first visit. "Don't lose your shoe, and don't forget that your carriage will turn into a pumpkin on the stroke of twelve."

"Thanks,

Mo-o-om

," I said, in a whiny tone. "I

know

all that. Jeez."

Laughing, Imani and I made our way to the dance floor.

~~~~~

"I'm going to lead," Imani announced. I shrugged. She could hardly do worse than I did the previous week. The song was too slow to cha-cha to, but we used it to get familiar with the steps and our positioning. She wasn't Alan, but she'd come a hell of a long way in one week. She was confident and accurate, though we were only doing the basic steps. Using the slower pace, I wiggled my butt - I'm sorry, I mean introduced some hip action - in the right places, while Imani seemed to naturally step that way.

"My God, you really have been practicing," I said, raising my voice just enough for her to hear. "Do you want to try some turns?"

"That's something I couldn't practice," she said. "I don't see how that works. How do I tell you what to do?"

"It's not as hard as it seems. Just move your hand in the direction you want me to go, then release me and trust me to finish." I demonstrated by putting my left hand over her right, pressing her hand to me and turning away. "Or if you want to change direction, a little pressure but don't release me."

The DJ must have seen our efforts again, and the songs switched to a latin block. We were really getting the movements down and beginning to enjoy the silent communication that makes ballroom dancing work, and I was certainly appreciating the proximity of Imani's body. I noticed Alan and Clare taking advantage of the latin sounds in a different corner. I waited for an opportunity to move close, then leaned against her, still following the steps. "Is Clare okay with you not staying together?"

Imani nodded. "She and Alan know what I'm doing. They encouraged me."

She held me in place, my body pressed to hers for several bars, before turning me out and resuming a conventional hold.

When the DJ moved on from latin beats, Imani and I stood together, our arms still around each other's back. "That was fun," I said. "And we were both improving."

"We were gooood, sister," Imani said, drawing the word out to about three syllables. "I think we deserve a break."

I slid my left hand from around her back as I moved away, but caught her right hand and held it as we left the dance floor, not dropping it until we were both seated on bar stools. "Gold Dragon?" I asked Imani, who nodded.

Over our drinks, we talked about how much fun it was to learn actual dances, and how great it would be if someone were to set up a LGBT-friendly dance studio. Maybe they could come to an arrangement with Gabby's. I suggested that Imani could look into it after she graduated. She laughed and shook her head.

When our drinks were mostly done, Imani nodded toward the dance floor entrance. "I'd like to dance some more, but just what I usually do, not counting and steps and being nervous that I get everything right. Will you join me?"

Smiling, I said, "Of course I will. That's my default, too. Until Alan and Danielle the week before last, I'd never tried ballroom dances here. I'm surprised I remember how to do it at all."

This time, Imani reached for my hand, taking my left in her right. We moved back into the corner we'd recently left.

From her freestyle dancing, I could see why Imani's cha-cha moves had seemed so natural. Her entire body was involved in her dance. Sinuous swaying from waist to head, sometimes bringing her arms into the wave, sometimes just having them mark time. Her feet moved with the beat, and often her hips would shake in double time. I could picture her in a short top with gold filigree and veiled skirts, a ruby in her navel, belly dancing. Boy, could I picture it. I was totally not in her league. I don't think I was even playing the same sport. But she didn't care, her eyes and smile making me want to be closer.

When the DJ slowed the pace, I looked at Imani, feeling a little nervous until she took my hands, then drew me in close. We swayed together, breast to breast. She was shorter than me, by maybe a little over an inch, but we were close enough in height that we could each rest our heads on the other's shoulder.

After a couple of minutes, Imani said, "Hey, Kayla? The bartender says it's dangerous to kiss anyone within thirty minutes of drinking her dragon drink, right?"

"Mmhmm," I replied.

"I'm willing to bet," she said, "that the danger is minimal if your partner has been drinking the dragon drink, too."

Imani fell silent. After a few seconds of feeling her body against mine, I said, "Think we should test the theory?"

In answer, Imani pressed her lips to my ear, whispering, "I think we should."

So I raised my face from her neck and brushed my lips against hers. Imani parted her lips, then touched them to mine. I parted mine, too, tasting the touch of her breath on my tongue, feeling the slight waxy surface of her lip color, and beneath it, the softness of her full lips.

I tried to banish my nervousness. This was nothing I hadn't done before, and with a woman I was very much attracted to.

Perhaps Imani was fighting the same battle, because I felt her body soften beneath my arms as she relaxed against me. When she did, I felt a surge of affection for her, and felt myself relax, too. My lips pried hers further apart, then I drew them back a fraction of an inch before meeting hers again, repositioning my face for better contact.

Our kiss began to take on a life of its own as our shared reserve broke down. Fondness, warmth, desire and arousal all grew in me. The surge of emotion made my chest tingle, my heart race and my breath catch. I tried to keep the feelings from my kiss, not wanting to overwhelm her, but some leaked into it anyway, and Imani responded. A soft groan escaped my throat.

Imani drew back. A wave of disappointment passed through me. I'd pushed her away. But she moved her lips to my ear, and whispered, "I want to be somewhere else. With you. Where can we go?"

"My place?" I suggested. "I live alone. Are you driving?"

She nodded.

Taking her hand, I led her out of the dance area. "Do you have a coat? Purse?"

She nodded, and I released her. "Meet you outside," I said, and scurried off to pick up my jacket from Emma's and Tiff's table. I knew I'd have to suffer Tiff's knowing smirk, so I gave her a direct look and rolled my eyes before she could form it. She chuckled and I squeezed her shoulder as I left.

Outside, I slipped my jacket on, then keyed my address into a new message. When Imani joined me, I asked for her number, entered it and pressed send. "Follow me, though, it's an easy drive."

"Yah," she said briefly, as I pointed out my vehicle. I waited to see her lights behind me before I drove home.

~~~~~

I'd taken a hint from Danielle, and picked up a couple of bottles of sparkling white wine from a local chain. I had even less of a clue about sparkling wines than I did normal reds and whites, but the sales person had given me a sample of a Brazilian wine that was delicate, not too dry, and very reasonably priced. I'd decided to keep one ready in the fridge for occasions like this. I opened the bottle and poured two glasses while Imani was still looking around my living room.

She raised her eyebrow at the sight of the glass, smiling as she took it from my hand. She wasn't twenty-one, but I seriously doubted this would be her first experience of wine. "This is good," she announced, after taking a sip. I tried mine, which matched the sample in the store.

Taking Imani's jacket, I hung it and mine in a closet. Imani was looking out through the door to the balcony. It was dark, but the clubhouse at the golf course and its parking lot were well lit, casting light and shadow on the trees between there and here. "I like your view," she said.

Opening the door, I invited her through to the small balcony. The air was too cold to be outside for long in my thin crop shirt, but it was worth it to take in the view. Imani leaned against the wall, and I stood beside her, our shoulders touching. "I like my place," I said. "It's an apartment, it's temporary, but until I'm ready to move on, it's ideal.

Imani nodded, gazing around again. Then she set her wine glass down on the small table, and faced me. With a finger under my chin, she turned my face to hers, then lightly kissed my lips. I gave her a nervous grin, set my glass down beside hers and drew her close.

We began much as we'd left off, lips parted, my heart doing double-time as I felt her soft lips on mine. The outdoor chill was raising goosebumps on my arms, but I didn't care. I moved my hands to Imani's shoulders, holding her against me, while hers were on my bare waist.

It was Imani whose tongue made the first encroachment. She tentatively pushed it between my lips. A surprisingly strong wave of feeling flowed into me, focused on my sex, and I had a suspicion my underwear was becoming damp. I touched my tongue to hers, tasting her. Feeling my response, Imani melted into me, her body pressed to mine, and the kiss became charged with passion. Both of us moaned, and Imani's hands moved up my sides, inside my top, to grip my ribcage.

Without breaking the kiss, I reached for the door handle, slid it open, then propelled Imani backward into the living room. I pulled the door closed, then yanked at the cord beside it, which drew a curtain across the glass.

Imani's hands moved higher, lifting my top. I crossed my arms, grabbed the front and tugged it over my head, then lobbed it in the general direction of the couch.

Wrapping my arms around Imani, I hunted the zipper I'd seen in the center of the back of her dress. It parted smoothly, the dress losing tension. I raised my hands to the straps, drew them aside, letting them slide down her arms. She moved her hands away from me, allowing the straps to continue their descent, and the fabric pooled on the floor with a soft whisper.

The dress must have had built-in support, as its collapse revealed full, high breasts. Her nipples and areolae seemed a midnight blue against her rich umber skin.

I stepped back to look at her. Her normally dark eyes seemed black with desire, the long pewter earrings framing high cheeks and a smile on her full, dark lips that suddenly seemed a little shy. She wore nothing but a dark blue thong, the earrings and her pumps.

I hadn't even intended to say, "God, you're so beautiful." It just started to slip out, and I had to finish it.

Her lips parted to show white teeth, shyness banished. "You're not so bad," she said, "but you

really

need to be naked for me to judge."

She stooped to unfasten her heels, then carried them and her dress to the couch. I nodded to the bedroom door. "In there," I said, raising my skirt to step out of my heels. "I'll be right behind you.

Stopping by the kitchen, I picked up a small bowl, then took the ice tray out of the freezer, removed the lid and twisted it to free some of the small frozen balls. Then I set the tray back in the freezer and took my bowl to the bedroom, setting it on the nightstand.

Imani was sitting on the bed. I slipped off my glasses, placing them on the nightstand, then drew her to her feet to continue kissing. God, she was good at kissing.

We

were good at kissing, each of us silently communicating our eagerness.

It can't have been a minute before I felt her fingers working on my bra. I lowered my arms so that she could take off the straps, and let it lie on the floor where it fell. Feeling her bare breasts rolling against mine, her nipples pressing into me, ramped up my arousal, and I moved my hands to her ribs, feeling the start of the swell of her breasts against the bases of my thumbs. I felt her fumbling around for the side catch of my skirt. I would have helped, but I was so intoxicated by the feel of her skin below my hands that I didn't want to release her.

She found the catch, and my skirt slid to the floor.

Imani eased me back away from her. Her gaze sliding over my body was a physical thing. I could feel where her eyes rested. Her grin was broad. "I'll upgrade 'not bad' to 'very fine'," she said. Then she reached behind her head, pulled off the band confining her braids, and shook them out. My heart skipped again at the sight of her, face framed in braids, firm breasts quivering.

"Thank you," I said, and we kissed again, our entire bodies in contact, skin against skin. I shivered slightly at the thought of being with this girl, and of what I wanted to do to her.

I moved Imani back until she was against the bed, then told her to lie down. She did as instructed, and I lowered myself onto her, kissing her neck and earlobe as she wrapped her legs around me, seeking to hold me close. My sex was damp with arousal, and I wasn't certain that it was all mine as she drew her pussy against me.

I kissed her hard on the lips, our tongues joining, until I felt Imani moan. Then I drew back. "I want you to lie still," I said.

Imani's eyebrow rose, but she didn't object. I raised her hands over her head. "No helping," I said. She just smiled at me.

Carefully, I eased myself off her body, then squatted beside her. Reaching into the bowl, I picked up one of the ice spheres. Imani frowned. Her body jerked as I touched it to her left nipple. "That's cold!"

"I know," I said, rolling it around the tip of her breast. Her nipple had swelled at the touch of ice, her areola puffing out. Now it swelled further, and I circled my thumb and forefinger around the slick surface of the nipple, holding the sphere against her breast with my other hand.

Gradually I worked the lube over her breast and into my hand. Her nipple was as firm as rubber now, and my thumb and finger were drawing out soft sounds of arousal. Her eyes had turned black again, and her lips were parted. Parted so temptingly, in fact, that I needed to taste them. But first I transferred the ice ball to my left hand.

Lowering my face to hers, I began to explore her mouth with my tongue. Imani's body twitched below me as I cupped her right breast with my left hand, the ice trapped between my palm and the pliant surface beneath it. I brought my right hand to the slick, cool surface of her left breast, caressing her nipple with my fingers and thumb.

Imani moaned softly, until I backed away, grinning down at her. I've mentioned how hard I found it to read her expressions. This time I had no difficulty at all in seeing the wanton need on her face. "God, that is making me

so

turned on."

There was still enough of the sphere in my left hand to keep up the slippery massage for several minutes, so I left my hand where it was. Taking another ice ball, I drew it around her left breast, following with my tongue. For several minutes I licked her breast, staying at least a half inch away from her nipple, occasionally rolling the ball around to refresh the lube and chill her flesh.

Imani's chest was rising high as her breathing deepened. I lifted my face, lowering my mouth to hers, but instead of kissing her lips, I sucked her lower lip into my mouth and toyed with it. She shivered

When I drew back, I licked her upper lip. She immediately extended her tongue to meet mine, and I licked her tongue, then engaged in a half minute tongue duel with her, before I closed my lips around her tongue and suckled.

"Mmmh!" Imani groaned, then wrapped her arms around my head and tried to pull me closer.

Resisting, I drew my head far enough back to escape her hold. "Nuh-uh," I objected. "Hands above your head." She sighed and returned her hands to where they'd been. I granted her a short but very intense kiss before returning to my work.

Again avoiding her nipple, I bathed her breast with my tongue. Imani's hips had started to lift rhythmically. She writhed on the bed when I took my face away and rubbed her nipple with my lube-coated finger and thumb. Then I dipped my head, opening my mouth wide, sucking as much of the tip of her breast into it as I could, my fingers squeezing the base, shaping it for me to suckle. The base of my tongue rubbed her nipple as I slowly drew back, until it was between my teeth, when I gripped it lightly, stretching it until it slipped free. The lubricated surface wouldn't allow me to stretch it far enough to pop out.