Brett and his best friend/roommate Joel decided to check out the hottest new club one Friday night. They used to go out often, especially back in college, but in more recent years, they'd gotten bogged down with work and responsibilities, and didn't have much energy for partying anymore. Brett still enjoyed it, when he made the effort to go, but more weekends than not, he was too tired to get his ass off the couch and go out.
Which was sad, because as a single guy in his mid-twenties, he should have been out there having more fun. He wasn't old enough to feel this old. He also knew he'd never meet the love of his life while drinking beer on his couch. She'd be out there, in the world, and he knew he needed to get out there if he was going to find her.
So, he let Joel drag him to a bar. It was a classy place with a dress code and a cover charge, and he had to keep his complaints to himself, because he knew this was more Joel's scene than his. He liked casual pubs with comfy booths and live bands. Nevertheless, he put on a button-down shirt and some dark jeans and joined Joel, who sported a tie and dress pants. Brett didn't let his friend push him that far.
At the club, they bought overpriced drinks and stood rather awkwardly together, woefully out of practice at approaching women and striking up conversation. They were good-looking guys and didn't usually have trouble hitting it off with women when they tried. In fact, in college, they'd seen more action than most of their friends. Women were attracted to Brett and Joel, and they knew it. But they also knew they needed to put in some effort if they were going to score.
Brett spotted a woman who caught his eye across the dancefloor. She had long dark hair, almost to her hips, and a tight green dress that cut off just below her ass. She smiled generously at her friends while sipping on a cocktail, all while swaying her hips to the beat. Her long legs drew Brett's eye -- they seemed to go on forever, between her dangerously high heels and scandalously short dress.
He nudged Joel with his elbow and nodded in the direction of the woman. Joel glanced over, saw her, and gave Brett an approving smirk. Brett smirked back, grateful that despite the wordless exchange, his friend knew exactly what he meant -- it was far too loud in there for conversation.
Brett ordered a fresh whiskey and made his way over to where the woman and her friends had commandeered a table. He walked at an intentional pace -- not so fast that he'd seem creepy and desperate, but not slow enough to leave time for any other men to approach her before he could get there. He sidled up to the woman, gently placing a hand on her shoulder, and leaned in enough to speak directly into her ear. It was practical, given the volume of the music, but also intimate enough to show his intentions.
"Dance with me?" he asked, mustering up enough confidence to make her believe he wasn't as nervous as he was.
She looked up at him, allowing him to notice how her dress brought out the green in her eyes, and a soft smile dawned on her face.
She spared a glance back to her friends, who quickly nodded their approval, based on Brett's looks alone.
"Sure," she said, just loudly enough for him to hear her.
Pleased, he gently moved his hand to the small of her back and guided her far enough away from her group that they could have some space. Each with a drink in their hands, they loosely rested their free hands on each other's bodies, moving close enough to graze against each other as they danced.
Brett leaned again. "I'm Brett," he said by way of an opening.
"Adria," she responded, tilting her chin up to try to reach him. Even in her heels, she was almost dwarfed by his height. She sipped her drink and reestablished eye contact. "What, are you like, 6 foot 3?" A small smile peeked out behind her straw.
"6-4," he responded, catching the twinkle in her eye. That must have pleased her. She wasn't short, by any means, but she must have appreciated a tall man.
He slugged back the remaining gulp of his drink and set his glass on a nearby table, solely to free his other hand. He cautiously pulled her closer with both hands on her hips, continuing to sway to the music in sync with her movements. What he lacked in dancing ability, he made up for in chiseled good looks and rock-hard abs. He knew it.
She took her cue and ditched her glass on the table, too, throwing both arms up around his neck. As she leaned back to meet his gaze, her exposed throat and cleavage did something to Brett. He swallowed hard and prayed she didn't feel the bulge getting bulgier in his pants.
He wanted to make conversation with her, but he couldn't think of a single thing to say. He was trying not to stare, but he couldn't pull his eyes away. She was breathtaking. Beautiful.
After a few more moments he hoped hadn't been awkward for her, he leaned in again and asked, "Can I buy you a drink?"
She smiled.
He felt relieved.
"Yeah, sounds good," she said, releasing her hands from where they were clasped behind his neck, bringing one down and sliding it into his.
They walked together toward the bar, where Joel was still standing. Joel gave an approving nod and a smile.
Brett flagged down the bartender and motioned for Adria to tell him her order. Then he asked for another whiskey rocks. Placing his hand in its new favorite place on the small of her back, he guided her toward Joel to make introductions.
"This is my buddy Joel," he spoke into her ear.
She smiled at Joel and neither man missed the once-over she gave him, looking him up and down and up again.
"I'm Adria," she borderline shouted toward him, holding out her hand to shake his.
Joel took her hand, placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles, and smiled back at her. Brett rolled his eyes.
Their drinks arrived, so Brett handed her her glass and gently guided her back to the dance floor.
They danced for what seemed like five hours and yet five minutes at the same time. Brett enjoyed having Adria's body pressed against his, her hands caressing him gently as they tested out their mutual levels of comfort with physical contact. He wanted to make a move -- hell, he wanted to take her home -- but was quickly losing his nerve. He was so out of practice. Rusty.
Finally, after they'd finished their drinks and ditched their cups again, leaving free and adventurous hands, Adria pulled back to look him in the eye again.
His breath caught when he caught her gaze.
"Are you going to kiss me anytime soon?" She taunted, a mischievous smirk curling her smile.
He breathed out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He matched her smirk and raised his eyebrow. He lifted his hand off her hip, gently brushed her hair away from her face, and teased her jawline, throat, and collarbone with his index finger.
He didn't miss how she swallowed hard at the intensity of the moment. He was taking his time, building her anticipation, and taking control of the moment.
He didn't really like that she'd beat him to it -- he wanted to make that first move. But he was second-guessing himself, after having spent months alone on his couch for no good reason. Her forwardness boosted his confidence but now his ego was taking over. And he was good with that.
He brought his hand up to her cheek, holding her face in place as he leaned down and placed his lips on hers.
Fuck, they're soft.
His kiss was gentle and innocent to start. Maybe it was his lack of recent experience; maybe it was that she felt so delicate in his arms. He kept his lips tenderly in place, not wanting to ruin the moment with his desperation for more. But when she whimpered and brought her hand up into his hair and pulled him in closer, and when he felt her lips part just slightly, he took the invitation to push his tongue into her mouth. She welcomed it, letting her tongue dance with his, just as they continued to sway and grind on the dance floor. His free hand had moved south from her hip and was now unapologetically squeezing her ass cheek and holding her lower body against his.
There was no way she didn't feel his hardness now.
When they finally broke apart, he wasn't sure who'd ended the kiss, but he knew he wanted more. Once again, leaning down to her ear, he tried not to sound as timid as he felt. "Come home with me?"
