Edited by PeeJ
My drinks go down easily, I need them to calm my nerves, to quiet my inner voice tying to talk me out of it. The music is loud and I feel exposed in my short revealing skirt. My husband, Ron, sits calmly in his corner booth, sipping his drink and watching me.
A man comes up to the bar where I'm sitting, asking me if I want to dance. Should I tell him what I really want, what my observer wants? I answer with a nod of my head, unable to say it.
The large dance floor is crowded but there's safety in numbers. The old song they're playing reminds me of another place and time. My body takes over and moves to the music, the alcohol warming my blood.
The band slides into another song, no pause or time to be asked we just keep dancing.
I become aware of my partner: he's attractive and young, and the kind of man most girls would be proud to be seen with. His body moves with energy and grace and probably is a good fuck. 'I want to watch you dance seductively', Ron would say.
He dances closer to me, touching me with his hands, I respond with the same. Our fingers meet in the middle and they interweave, locking us together. I glance over at Ron; he smiles and raises his glass as if to make a toast.
Another quick change of music and I'm in his arms. The slow grinding music lures me into the rhythm of sex. His hands on my lower back are not idle, they are always moving, making little circles dipping down to my ass then back up and waiting for my response.
I respond in kind, only I leave them there and pull him close to me. There's no need to wait for his response, I can feel his hardness pushing into my groin repeatedly as if we were already doing 'it.'
My husband in the booth can see what I'm doing; my upper body leans back and I rub my pussy on my partners cock. He probably thinks he will score tonight — maybe he will, it's up to the man in the booth.
If I do let him fuck me I can hear him saying now, "I fucked this gorgeous blond last night," bragging to his friends, but in reality, I'm only pretty.
It's break time for the band and for me as well. He follows me back to my seat, talking shit; I think he told me his name but who gives a fuck. His hand finds my knee and I let it stay; it moves further up my leg; I don't stop him. 'I want to see them feel you up, to treat you like the slut you're meant to be,' Ron said as he drilled me with his cock the night before.
I look over to the booth and there's no one there, I excuse myself to go pee. We agreed if he wasn't there, we were to meet at the ladies room. When I see him there I can breathe again, what must he think of me? I go to him and he pushes me into a cubby where no one can see. He pins me against the wall, pulls out his dick, I pull my panties aside and he sticks it in. "Like this," he says. "Do him like this." He backs away and puts his cock back in his pants; I want more but first things first.
My dancing friend is waiting for me, waiting to get lucky. "Just in time," he says. "The band is back."
I drink my liquid courage and join him on the dance floor. He is up to his old tricks, touchy-touchy, feely-feely, and very predictable.
