Flatter her

“I don’t blame them,” you respond, with a smile. “I wouldn’t want to stop looking at you, either.”

Sarah smiles at your words, and you feel her begin to warm up to you — at least, that’s what you hope is happening.

“Well, I didn’t get many chances to go to dances, either,” you say, “so I don’t know too many dance moves, but if you care to risk it with me, I’ll try not to step on your toes.”

Sarah giggles and sets her drink on a table. “I think I’ll live dangerously.” You set your drink beside hers and lead her to the dance floor. The music is a techno beat, and you both attempt to find your rhythm.

You watch Sarah as she moves to the beats, and you can’t help but wonder if there is some mistake. She seems like the girl-next-door type, looking and acting very wholesome. At the same time, you can’t help but try to picture her without her clothing, trying to imagine those boobs jiggling maddeningly as she sways to the music.

Realizing you are staring at her tits, you **** yourself to make eye contact, and you notice that she is likewise checking you out as her eyes move up and down your body.

Or maybe she’s just amused at your awkward attempt at dancing.

“I warned you about me!” you say, raising your voice to be heard over the music.

“I think you’re doing just great,” she replies, stepping a bit closer to be heard. “I’m the one who should apologize.”

“Apologize for what?” you ask.

At this point the music changes to a slower song. You briefly make eye contact with her before closing the remaining gap between you, putting your left arm around her waist, and clasping her hand with yours.

As you sway together to the music, you get a whiff of her perfume and her shampoo. She smells heavenly! With a respectable, but small, space between the two of you, you get an occasional brush of her breasts against your chest, which you find strangely exciting.

“So far my toes haven’t protested,” she says, smiling. “You don’t do yourself justice as a dancer.”

“Well, just don’t ask me to breakdance,” you respond, “unless you promise to come visit me at the hospital.”

“It’s a deal,” she replies.

You dance together in silence for a few moments, and your thoughts are racing. Your impression of nymphos was that they couldn’t keep from ripping a guys clothes off and jumping his bones. Sarah is behaving respectably — moreso, probably, than most of the other girls here. You wonder if you should just keep up what you are doing, or if you should try to up the ante.