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June 23, 2005
The dance
he music was playing. Base tones thrumming in the air. She could feel it on her skin. Music always had that effect though. She listens with every part of her being. Sultry beat on the bare skin of her arms, seeping down into the blood. Sneaking up to the base of her neck, making the hair there rise.
He was leaning over the music centre in the corner. Turning up the base. There was a part of him that always longed to understand her. She could often feel him study her. Music was a state of bliss. Her movements, thoughts and feelings, all of them stepped in time to the songs at play in her mind.
She shut the door behind her as Mr Loverman drifted from the speakers and invited the boy to dance. Bodies pressed together, they began to sway. His hands straying down to her hips as the air in the room drew close and hot. She turned her back to him and pulled her hair aside, bare flesh of her neck and shoulders feeling the heat of his breath as she grazed her buttocks against his groin. Arm reaching up, fingers caressing his neck and then bringing his head down so lips met skin.
Moist lips on her warm flesh, his hands resting under her top while her hips still swayed. He kissed up her neck. Each movement of his lips accentuated the thrum of the base against her skin, in her blood. He whispered softly in her ear,
‘Turn around’
She turned, her eyes catching his, so green and deep. She could barely breathe. He leaned down, lips finally touching hers. Mr Wendal by Arrested Development suddenly blasted from the speakers. Spell broken by laughter.
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Posted by witnit at June 23, 2005 7:16 AM
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