A Proposition

I went dancing last night. St. Patrick’s Day Eve, in a new city, and my friends and I weren’t ready for bed after dinner.

I nursed a drink for a while, listening to the live band. I wasn’t loose enough yet to let myself go. As a group, we listened and enjoyed the music.

Once the band went on a break and the DJ took over, the evening shifted. Black Eyed Peas, 50 Cent, Flo Rida – all of it blasted through the club, and I began to move, not caring that I danced alone, knowing a few eyes watched me. The virtue of having a round ass and generous hips means that once I began to move them to the rhythm, someone will always watch.

This night, the someone was part of our crew. On and off for over two hours, we danced together. I would grind my ass into his cock. Several times, I rode his leg, arm lightly draped around his neck.

The last dance of the night lasted hours or moments, I don’t know. His hands grabbed my hips and pulled me into his pelvis. We moved with the music. In another place, I would have been riding his cock instead of dancing. I felt my body heat up and my mouth become dry. What was happening?

The song ended and we pulled apart as if nothing had happened. But I knew I felt his fingers dig into my hips and his hand stroke my ass while we moved. I felt his fingers find my skin under my shirt just above my jeans. I walked out of the club on wobbly legs, exhausted from dancing for two hours, shaky from the heat our dancing created.

We came back to our hotel in separate cabs. I wasn’t too concerned about seeing him or hearing from him again. A new friend, a fun dance partner, but still no one in my inner circle.

He messaged me – wanting to finish what we started on the dance floor. I flirted back and forth but then admitted, I don’t fuck people I just met. He said he didn’t want a relationship. I said I didn’t either. He said we should finish what we started. I replied that I wish I could, I wished I was the type of woman who did that. Deep down, I knew I would eventually regret it if I let him into my room – whether because he might talk to other colleagues or because I would feel like I betrayed myself, maybe both.

I told him I would kick myself later, but I can’t fuck people I don’t know. He messaged back that I must have incredible fingers.

He has no idea.