I love to watch people dance. It says volumes about how they feel about themselves, more than many hours of actual conversation. A woman who loves to dance, moves well, and is comfortable in her body is a joy to behold. Jeannette was that kind of woman. She stood out in the crowd of college students like a dark diamond; while most of the girls there were fashionably anorexic, with bodies like skinny 12year olds with tits, she was a wonderland of curves.
Beautiful dark hair with a natural curl and bounce, lightly tanned skin with a faint flush and sparkling brown eyes, she filled her crimson silk tank top and cream colored jeans to perfection: she had tits and ass for days. She was making excellent use of them, too, as I watched her. Hips rocking, torso rolling, arms and hands caressing her own body in an unmistakable invitation that, incredibly, the local boys were not taking advantage of. I had no intention of ignoring her, however; I was alone that night and the joy and invitation in her smile as she danced were too tempting to pass up.
I took a swallow of my margarita and threaded my way towards the pocket she had made. They may have been afraid to approach her, those boys, but they sure as hell wanted to watch her dance. The DJ was playing “Butterfly” by Crazy Town, a song perfect for my purposes. I eased behind her and began to dance, following her movements without quite touching her, letting her feel me behind her. I could tell when she knew I was there, for her movements became slower and more sensuous, hips slowing to a slow wave like the roll of the breakers, then she turned…
This was the moment of truth: would she back away because the silent warmth she had been courting blind was another woman? Her face registered first shock and then she laughed and I grinned back and wordlessly invited her to keep dancing with me, which she did after a moment of hesitation. I introduced myself between songs, she told me her name, and then we went back to dancing. Playfully moving together, switching roles, bumping together occasionally but gradually learning each other, pressing more and more closely until, a little while later, we were moving hip to hip. She smelled wonderful, light musk and hot female.
I took advantage of the music to lightly place my hands on the curves of her hips, and felt her ease back against me. We were the focus of a great deal of attention but Jeanette was oblivious, totally immersed in the moment. At one point she rested her head on my shoulder and spoke in my ear, still gently moving her hips, "So...do you like guys too, or just women?”
“It would have to be one hell of a man to compete with you at the moment, but yes I like men too,” I murmered back.
“How 'bout that one?,” she indicated a slightly older, maybe 25ish, guy who was leaning with his back to the bar watching us intently. He was perhaps the only guy in the place who could have gotten my attention, for he was as handsome in his way as she was beautiful. Tall, maybe 6 feet or so, broad shoulders with light brown hair pulled back in a pony tail that fell across one shoulder. He was casually dressed in chinos and a Henley shirt with the sleeves pushed back. When he saw I was looking at him he gave me a slow wink and nod. I winked back.
Jeannette turned to face me and said, “So.. what do you think??”
“Tasty ..definately tasty, is he with you?,” I asked devilishly.
“That’s Nicolas, my boyfriend,” she grinned and said, “We’ve been talking about someday doing a three-way with another girl but didn’t know anyone who appealed to both of us. I've never been with a girl although I've fantasized about it a lot. You coming up and dancing with me seems almost too perfect.”