He watched her, through half-lidded eyes, moving through the inebriated crowd with a (liquor-induced) confidence that she believed didn't come naturally. He knew otherwise. He sat back in the ergonomically-curved red chair, bringing his cigarette to his lips for a final deep draw before crushing it into the nearby tray, filled with his and others' stubs. Her white teeth appeared over and over as she believably smiled while speaking to her friends and acquaintances, over the loud but bearable music they both adored. In fact, it was music that first brought them together, here, in this place where they had gathered with their own crowds that eventually, inevitably, intermingled.
His lips curled into a gentle smile as a familiar old tune was piped through the speakers by the educated DJ, who danced alone in his booth far above the crowd. It broadened as he watched her pull one of her girlfriends onto the dance floor and was somehow able to find a space big enough for the two of them to dance together. He felt a familiar twitch between his crossed thighs as they started to dance, very close to each other yet not touching, not even a thread of their beautifully hung clothes that adorned their bodies brushing together. He didn't know her friend, unclear of their exact relationship but from the way they danced, he wanted to believe they knew each other intimately. They would, at a much later time, when he closed his eyes and worked his stiff manhood with his calloused hand, imagining it as hers before she pulled him into her full-lipped warm, wet, welcoming mouth.
He lifted his glass to his lips as he continued to watch, the song ending with a smattering of applause from an appreciative few. He drained the glass, wincing slightly at the light burn of the vodka draining down his throat, mixing with the other drinks he had already finished off. His eyes, though, did not leave her. He stood, slowly, not wanting to risk an embarrassing swoon in front of his friends by doing so too quickly in his own half-drunken state. He knew it was time, having watched her eyes shift to the clock covertly, and then began her farewells to her friends. One by one, she kissed their cheeks, squeezed their hands, and hugged them close, as was her usual manner. A couple of them smiled knowingly but did nothing to give her away; she broke a promise (she knew she would) and confided in the closest of her girls, as was typical of women her age. She had no distrust but just in case, she told them of her plans, her weekly rendezvous which started at a precise time but never ended at one. She would call them when it did, as always. She angled her way through the crowd to the large carpeted set of stairs that led to the upper tier and began her slow ascent.
