S___ recently wrote about women danc­ing.  It got me thinking.

Before S___ and I were together, I would go out danc­ing, I’d go alone.  Some­times I would meet some­one out, some­times not.

It was cold out, I came into the club bun­dled up.  Look­ing around I found an empty seat at the bar and took off my coat.  It had been a hard day, I just wanted to for­get about it, so I sat down and ordered a drink.  Chat here and there with the guy sit­ting next to me, a cou­ple more drinks, I was suf­fi­ciently warm and relaxed, not a care in the world when a song I liked came on.  I wan­dered out to the dance-floor alone, I like to dance alone.  The music was loud, the bass was puls­ing, the song had a Latin influ­ence that I love, the sound made my hips move, made me spin, made me sweat.  Sev­eral guys came up, try­ing to “dance” next to me.  I had no inter­est in being thrust at by them.  I kept danc­ing when I felt a pair of hands on my hips, fol­low­ing their move­ment, not pushy, just join­ing the swing.  I reached down to find them as small as mine, attached to long tan arms, beau­ti­ful skin, and a fan­tas­tic smile.  She was very sim­i­lar to me, taller, not pale, but had curves, and hips that she enjoyed using as much as I did.  As songs came and went we con­tin­ued our danc­ing, get­ting closer and closer together.  She began to guide my hips with her hands, press­ing her body up against mine from behind before we turned to face each-other.  My hands at her waist, hers about my shoul­ders, mov­ing together, rid­ing each other, closer and closer, giv­ing the crowd a rea­son to watch.  Her hand slipped up the back of my shirt and I found my thumbs mov­ing inside her waist­band, pulling her closer to me.  She turns me again, her hands slide up the front now, closer and closer too my hard nip­ples, mine remain on her hips, hold­ing her up against me, still hold­ing on to her waist­band, feel­ing her skin.

The music ends…the lights go on. Clos­ing time hap­pens so abruptly in moments like this.  Star­tled by the change, won­der­ing how we spent so long on the floor, we leave, hands slid­ing off of each other, shared smiles, off too our cor­ners.  I got my coat and headed out.  It seemed so cold, soaked from sweat­ing on the dance floor.  Wet from her body against mine.