Karina and Michele lay together, shyly playing with each other's most sensitive regions. Laden with post-orgasmic bliss, one, then the other fell asleep, eventually becoming entwined within each other's person.
* * * * *
β¦As much of the party girl that she was, Milan never went home with anyone she met (except once); she thought the era of one-night stands went out with fishbowl-heeled platforms and ElCaminos. But, the woman that she was, she loved to still flaunt her assets, parting crowds as she walked her walk. Her hips undulated when she walked; her breasts bounced gracefully while she balanced on stiletto-heeled boots. The way she was dressed served as subtle emphasis to her beauty. Her red leather shorts kissed the clefts of her ass and lovingly embraced her hips. The sequined neckline on her black halter top accentuated the rather large bosom cradled underneath. Beneath her garb, her mahogany skin was beaded with moisture from endless dancing. Destination targeted. She started to walk in the direction of the tallest guy in the room. Being 5'10", standing on 4" stilettos, she could see over almost all of heads in the room; it was easy for her to briefly lock eyes with her target at the bar.
When Blaine saw this ethereal being walking in his direction, his cock twitched involuntarily. It started to rise to attention as the mahogany goddess drifted closer, acting as lightning rod to her electric current. He wanted to will his dick to sleep; however, his efforts at best were half-hearted. He could hardly concentrate on taming the snake in his loins; watching the beauty in motion stole his senses. Milan walked to the bar, stood next to him and nonchalantly leaned over, almost spilling out her smooth breasts onto the bar. "Hey, bartender, can I get a club soda? I'm a little thirsty from all that dancing. Whew!" She took a napkin from the bar and wiped between her cleavage; Blaine stared intently at her action as if memorizing something essential to life. She turned her head toward him, spying his action. "Are you staring at my tits, or did you lose your contact somewhere in here?" She gestured with her hand across her cleavage. "I-I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare. I'm a little out of it." He thought to himself: "Stupid! Stupid! Could you have thought of something better to say?" He ran his hand through his jet-black hair, distributing the sweat that accumulated around his hairline. "Sorry."
"Hey that's alright. I'm tired, a little snippy. I appreciate your honesty and apology. But I have to say I always admire those who have the nerve." She smirked and sipped from the drink after she realized it was in front of her.
"So, what's your name," she asked. He turned around, leaned against the bar and cocked his head toward her. "Blaine. And yours?"