I don’t get to answer before Ted appears. I slip the phone back in my clutch as he takes a third drink from my hand and offers me what looks like bruschetta. Silently, he tells me to eat something before I drink too much. He’s taking care of me. And maybe that’s what I need for the night.
Thankfully, Ted’s attention is silently taken away from me as a woman walks up and steps into his personal space. I pick up another glass of wine and drain it before slipping into the crowd of people. I have no business with Ted. My head is miles away from making the right decisions tonight.
On the dance floor, I start to lose myself to the warm buzz that percolates in my brain from a couple of glasses of wine. I move without care to the Latin beat in the middle of a crowd, trying to forget what it felt like to be in Andy’s arms. He came and left and I try to find peace in the music. If he wanted me, he would be there.
The next song begins with an erotic trumpet solo that’s sad yet sexy all the same. When the drums set in, the beat begins to pick up and my hips move on their own accord. I see several guys watching me, including Kenneth’s friend and it only spurs me on. I raise my hands in abandon as I shimmy and slowly bend at the knees swaying my ass in a suggestive way that makes one guy bite his lip. In the back of my mind I hope that Andy sees me and wishes he hadn’t walked away earlier. I continue to play with fire as I give good eye contact with a few of the men. Jenna is right. One of them is really cute. Maybe I should give someone else a try.
A man’s possessive hands land on my waist. Even though he is behind me, I already know who they belong to. I have no idea how we ended up in the same place at the same time. Maybe fate. But I don’t allow myself to think anymore. Thinking so far hasn’t won me any prizes.
The melody carries me away to a tropical place where everything happens under a forgiving moon. His lips land on my neck, and I combust in raging heat. I rub against him, hoping he feels the fire he stokes within me. His hands move over my abdomen to press me further back into him. Then his magic fingers glide up and he’s seconds away from cupping my breast. I don’t care that we are dangerously close to appearing as though we are making love in front of everyone there. I want him in a bad way.
We continue our private yet public dance and capture the attention of the crowd. Lost in the beat, several couples around us have taken their dances to another place that isn’t a ballroom. We are no longer the pioneers in changing the mood of the party to something much more seductive. As the sultry beat drones on, I long for four walls and a bed. I miss the fire of passion that this man can create in me.
It’s the finality of the music with its mournful tones that remind me of the past. I want to stay there with him, but pain is like a lance in my chest. It has me running away as the song ends on a trumpeted chord. I don’t look back for fear I might turn around and run back to him. I make it out onto a balcony breathing in frosty breaths. Despite the chilly night, the air is hot with desire and I’m gasping for breath. I hold on the frozen railing looking down as the DC’s foot and car traffic continuously pass despite the late hour.
Why can’t life be simple? I want to give up control and just feel, but I’m afraid to lose myself again. The pain nearly killed me before. I’m not sure I can do it again.
I hear the faint click as the terrace doors are shut. A quick glance over my shoulder and I see curtains on the window paneled door segment us from the crowd inside. He approaches from my blind side. A warm body, hotter than the sins I run from, presses to me. I begin to face him, but his hands are on my throat and chin, directing me to face forward, his message firm and clear.
He hasn’t uttered a word, but I know his touch. His other hand snakes across my right fabric-covered breast and manages to undo the body tape on the left that holds the material secure to my skin. He slips his fingers under the fabric to caress the left breast. Just the briefest contact causes my nipple to peak. He nuzzles the back of my head as he presses his hardness against my bottom. I find myself pushing back. It could be the wine, but I’m tired of fighting. I need this more than I want to admit.
The music floats in through the seam of the door and I find myself grinding against him along with the tempo. He shoves a leg between mine and spreads them. His possession is all encompassing as his hand moves lower from my breast. I wonder how long he’s been watching me tonight. Could his intense desire be born out of jealously?