How could I ignore her? From the moment I saw her my eyes were taken in. Her dark tan, and I could tell her skin was smooth, but that she was rough like sand, her dark brown hair was flung down around her shoulders in wavy tousles, sex hair if I ever saw it. I couldn’t make out the color of her eyes from across the bar but they were dark, seeming to be black from where I was sitting. She stood in stark contrast to the rest of the place – lights were flying melee around the walls, a harsh blue light emanating from below the bar, but she was dark and mysterious in a way I never imagined a woman could be.
How was it that she was alone? Or did she prefer it? Did she enjoy moving throughout the club, watching others dance, listening in on the absurdities no doubt being spoken of… I needed to get near her – that much I knew. I wanted to feel that skin, covered only by a black tank-top and leather skirt that hugged her legs down to her knees, her body was accentuated by those 4 inch red stilettos. She seemed to deflect others, skillfully moving around the bar until she knew she would be left alone with her dirty martini – a woman like that would drink a dirty martini – classy, yet with a mysterious bitterness that assaulted and caressed your tongue. She lifted the olive from the glass, perching it between her teeth…I could see her tongue moving over it slowly before she took it between her lips, painted red, sucking it into her mouth.
I could feel myself getting hard just at the sight of her – that marvelous sight. I was almost afraid to imagine how good it might feel to approach her, to touch her, to be touched by her. That was absurd…
I imagined her moving to the dance floor, my drunken eyes following her sleek form as she attempted to disappear into the crowd. She didn’t want the attention; she only wanted to dance, alone with her martini. It was then I stood from my stool at the bar, downing the last of my scotch; it stung as it rushed down my throat, but the burning was pleasant…it was how I imagined she would feel – a pleasant burning. She was fire and I was waiting to be lit. I moved to where she was dancing, her hips moving in time to the pounding in my ears which I could only assume was the music – or was it my own blood pounding, enraged, in my skull? Whichever one, the lust that pulled at me was too strong to stop now.
I clashed through the crowd until her back was to my front, then I paused…I hesitated for just a moment, nearly afraid of her reaction. No. I had come this far. So with a quick hand I caressed the meat of her thigh, pulling her roughly back against me, my member delighting at the contact, a warm sensation moving throughout my body as I thrust myself against her. Spinning around, she didn’t miss a beat. At that moment our eyes locked. Her eyes were grey and dark, and, much like their appearance, they gave away nothing of her emotions, there was no anger, nor was there lust, unlike my green eyes which burned with it. She was the coldest woman I had ever seen – yet she smoldered as her hands reached to my chest to push me away, finger nails digging in slightly through the fabric of my black button up shirt.
