France

Before I even knew it, I was dancing with Anne Marie from France. Talia was that good. She had coached me on what to do, and as we swayed in time, I rehearsed my script. Small talk, keep it light. Keep close, but not too close. Let her know that you're interested, but don't be a creep. Then, when she starts to lean in to you, kiss her, gently, and let her come to you. Then, when you've got it going hot and heavy, ask her back to the hotel.

A mixture of lust and nerves filled my gut. The lust, I knew, was from the girls I still wished I was dancing with, my friends. Why had I agreed to this?

Anne Marie had a fashion sense all her own. A bit punk and a bit girly-girl. First off, she was wearing black, leather combat boots, and fishnet stockings that stretched all the way up her legs. But her dress was bright yellow. The color complemented her cafe-au-lait skin tone. The light fabric split at the waist, running over each breast, and tied at the back. This left a deep "v" of exposed, dark skin at her cleavage, and laid bare her prominent collarbones. To top it off, she was wearing a black leather jacket with bright silver accents. It must have been sweltering by now.

Talia was right. Her blue eyes were striking and brilliant, unexpected. And, as we danced, I continually caught a breeze from her mess of dark, curly hair, a warm, summery smell. I wanted to bury my face in her neck the moment it first reached me, and wondered if, somehow, Talia had already tried that. The thought of it only increased the pressure in my pants. Dammit. Small talk.

"I love your eyes, and your hair is magnificent." Stupid, obvious complements. Way to set yourself out against the crowd, Ian.

"Merci. The eyes are from my mother, and my hair is from my father. Maman is French, but Papa is from Algeria. All people notice my eyes, but I like my hair very much."

She ran a hand through her hair, which bounced enticingly. Her accent was unmistakably French, totally sexy in the way that her mouth curled around each syllable. My hand was hot on the small of her back. Every point of contact thrilling. This girl had an electricity to her.

"You're a very exciting person."

"What makes you say so?" Genuine curiosity. Did I have a response?

"I dunno. Being with you, I feel like anything is possible." Corn. Pure corn. Oh God.

She pulled me closer. "Would you like to kiss me?" Her bright eyes held a playful expression, her pink lips moist and slightly parted...my inner monologue spilled out.

"I want to kiss you, very much."

She smiled at that, brilliant white. "You may kiss...my forehead!" She childishly pointed to the spot, which I bent to kiss. Soft, and yielding the best scent of her yet. Her arms snaked around behind and pulled me until our bodies were touching. My hand reached through her curly tresses to support my lips on her forehead. The song changed abruptly to a much faster rhythm. She pushed me away. "Let's dance!"

For the next three minutes and five seconds, I flailed in time while she danced. Her bright smile never left her lips, but I noticed in the light that she was starting to sweat. A single bead formed on her temple. Gradually, we moved toward each other. All misgivings had melted away, just animal lust left. Just as the song reached its climax, I closed the gap and kissed her hard. My fingers explored her now slightly damp hair while my other hand held her close.

Our lips parted, our tongues met, and I knew two things at once. First, that she was an enthusiastic and sloppy kisser. Second, that she had been drinking something delicious.

I broke the kiss and asked, "have you been drinking?"

She smiled and produced a small flask from her jacket pocket. "Why not? Eighteen is legal in France. America has stupid laws. Would you like some?"

I leaned down toward her, using her body to shield my drink from prying eyes. Why hadn't Talia brought booze?

This posture brought me tantalizingly close to her chest. A sheen of sweat played about her cleavage in the light, advertising the skin of her breasts. I was well past thinking now. I inched forward and planted a tender kiss right on her sternum. The taste was sweet. I followed the length of her neck to her chin, and met her lips once again. She deftly deposited the flask back in her pocket.

I gave my hands free license to roam over her lithe body. Her back, her butt, I took one of her firm breasts in hand and teased it. By now, she could feel my erection, barely contained in the silk of my tuxedo. I wanted her to feel it. I pressed my hips against hers, pressing my length against the gap in her thighs.

Suddenly, I felt soft fingers on my rock hard member. While we were kissing, and I was fondling her breast, she had managed to unclasp the front of my pants and sneak a hand onto my penis! I broke the kiss and whispered, "what are you doing?" insistently.

Her fingers retreated, she leaned up, and whispered in my ear. "Meet me in the ladies' toilet in one minute. Knock three times, and I will knock twice.

Both hands pushed me back as she grinned and giggled and fled the room. I quickly refastened my fly, and, on looking up, found that Talia and Rachel, dancing near by, had seen the whole thing. They grinned wildly. Further on, Amy was grinding shamelessly on Miguel, and Elizabeth and joined Stephanie in dancing with Simon. Corrine and Jake were gazing into each other's eyes. I thought for a moment about skipping my rendezvous in the ladies' bathroom.