[This from guest writer Dick Cramden (he he).]

It was the perfect place for our rendezvous. The club was dark and smoky. The band played urban blues, down and dirty, slow and sultry. Sitting at a booth in the back, I watched and waited.

I knew it was you the moment you walked in. I had to catch my breath in anticipation of the night about to unfold. I loved watching your body as you slinked closer to me, your outfit hugging the curves of your body. Hips swaying which each step. Arms slowly telegraphing the graceful move of each next step. You paused, looked around briefly, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I rose, and gestured to you.

I had thought we would start the night breaking the ice over a bottle of wine. I had already selected the one adequate Cabernet in the place. But when I saw you standing there, in that smoke-filled room, as lusty couples slowly moved to and fro with the raunchy blues, the wine was forgotten. This night we would drink vodka.

Sitting together for the first time, we made nervous and polite small talk, disguising the raging arousal we were both feeling. The small talk grew more intimate. By the second round of vodka tonic and vodka cranberry, a confession: we were both really horny. By the third, courage enough to move together on the dance floor.

We never had to experience the awkward first steps of two people dancing together for the first time. The rhythm of the night consumed us. We began too far apart, but not for long as our attraction pulled us close … very close. Your perfume added the final sensory thrill to our introduction. Our eyes met and locked. Our legs met and gently rub together. My hands soon held on to your swaying hips. Your breasts lightly grazed my chest. I remember how your smile turned into a sultry purse of your lips, and my arousal swelled. You pressed yourself against it, and I could tell the game was now afoot.

The tempo of the next song picked up. The band ground out the four/four beat with a loud sensuality accompanied by a raunchy horn section. You pushed back from me, and flashed me a wicked grin. The buzz of the vodka was filling both our minds. You spun around and backed your fine, fine ass against me, and pressed it against my hardness, wriggling it there, teasing me. Before I could embrace you, you spun around again, stepping back, and rubbing your hands on your thighs below the hem of your black skirt. It was then I noticed for the first time the garter belt holding up the sleek black stockings that dressed your shapely legs.

Watching you was maddening. You had such grace in your tormenting of me. As the dance continued, I noticed your nipples begin to stiffen beneath your blouse. Sweat began to form on my brow; my temperature was rising.

Again you stepped back from me, rubbing your hand along your thighs, raising the hemline higher and higher. Your bare thighs, so silky smooth, there for me to see for the first time, and now all I wanted was to see more and more of your marvelous skin. You danced closer to me, finally, but only to cup the swell of my crotch, before taking two steps back to continue your play.

Again you pressed your ass against me, and I leaned forward and managed to give your shoulder a quick and gentle bite and kiss, before you pulled away, shaking a scolding finger at me to the tempo of the song. The sultry smile returned to your face. You dropped a hand back to your thigh, as the other caressed your neck, and ran fingers through your hair. This time your skirt lifted up so high, but only so that I (at least that’s what I thought) could see, as you dipped a finger into your panties, to let it dance momentarily at the top of your sex. This move stunned me, but before I could scarcely express my delight, you placed your finger in my mouth and let me taste your sweetness for the first time. I grabbed you and pulled your body tight against me, and we kissed for the first time. Our tongues continued the wild dance as our bodies slowly rocked to the rhythm of the waning song. It was time to leave.

[Look out for the next part of Dick Cramden's story.]