A dirty dance

Erik stands frozen, the noise and flashing lights of the party melting into a muffled hum in his brain. His vision fixed squarely on the scene unfolding slowly in front of him.

The thoughts burn in his mind: did she get into it herself? Did the delay fuel her fire? Was this a punishment for taking too long to find her? Is this recent? Or did she jump right into this position the moment she entered the crowd?

Vi’s head is tilted back, her eyes half-lidded, and in pure ecstasy, her lips part, shivering with small hot breaths. A strangled groan catches in Erik’s throat as he watches a stranger greedily squeeze her soft breast through the thin dress.

Her lips quiver as his fingers knead, her hands in his hair, her leg half hitched against him, their hips gyrating to the rhythm of the music, his other hand keeping her close, holding her hips so she can never really be free from his bulge against her heat.

‘Fuck.’ The thought hits him like a direct punch: ‘How wet is she?’

His chest is tight, his breathing shallow.

It was happening. His fantasy, his desire, this fetish he thought would never be explored. Seeing it in person, just a few feet away, makes him weak in the knees; he puts a hand on the wall, steadying himself. The sight of his girlfriend, in this position, with this man — is one of the most intoxicating, erotic sights that he’s ever seen.

The man shifts, bringing his face close, his lips looking for hers. But she turns her head, guiding him down to her shoulder, her eyelids shuddering, and that’s when her eyes lock with Erik’s; she turns, the man pressed still behind her.

She doesn’t flinch; she doesn’t startle. She stays within that haze of lust and open exhibition, her lidded eyes boring into his wide eyes, her lips parted sensually, a tiny smile pulling at the corner.

Keeping her gaze on him, she snakes her hand out of his hair and slowly inches downwards.

She presses her palm into the man’s crotch, keeping it still, but no doubt feeling the outline of his shaft against her palm, a smirk on her lips.

The dance up to now was for her; the physicality up to that point was for her. Now, she could start the show for Erik.

She pushes her chest into the man’s palm, guiding his other hand off her hip onto her ass, which he takes greedily, squeezing and anchoring her even harder against his crotch. Her back arches sensually.

Erik’s pants tighten agonisingly. His eyes water as he refuses to blink, not wanting to miss a single second.

Two warring voices scream in his head, one desperate to see how far Vi will take it, how far she would go at the first time of asking.

And the other desperate to grab her and pull her through the crowd, to pin her against the wall and fuck her senseless, showing her and everyone around them who exactly she belongs to.

She stares at him, drinking in the look on his face, her body shuddering with her own arousal, waiting for his decision, waiting for what path he wants to take.