***
Dinner dragged as we were seated with some strangers: a heavier woman named Becky, who’d grown up with Yasmine, talked for an hour about how her cat was still throwing up the stuffing from a pillow he’d eaten over a week ago; a couple who didn’t speak a single word throughout dinner, even when we spoke to them; a woman in her late fifties who ate everything on her plate, including the decorative flower; and a guy Gary worked with who had just gotten married for the third time. I wondered why his wife hadn’t come with him to the wedding. But as I watched him get drunk and start dirty dancing with one of the groomsmen, my guess is that wife number three was filing for divorce at that very minute.
How the fuck did me and Brian get stuck with these losers, especially when we knew some of the other people here? Gary would be hearing about this when he got back from his honeymoon. But as we downed our sixth beers and I told a few stories of some memorable games I’d played years ago, the appropriateness of our seating assignment became as clear as the thick lenses in Becky’ glasses. We were seated with these losers because, well, we were losers too.
By ten o’clock I’d had enough of The Breakfast Club’s ten year reunion. If the party wasn’t coming to me, I’d have to go to the party. So I stripped off my jacket, loosened my tie, and unbuttoned two of my shirt buttons. It was time to dance.
I didn’t make a habit of dancing at weddings. I usually preferred to relax at the bar and then take off early with whoever I’d brought with me. But it was New Year’s Eve, and I was shitfaced. I sure as hell wasn’t leaving early, especially when I had no one to leave early with. May as well make the most of it.
The band played a mix of classic rock, current pop, and modern country mostly, so there was something for everyone. The alcohol coursing through my system made it impossible for me to care how I danced or who I danced with. And for a while, I was pretty sure I was dancing with no one at all.
Until I felt a pair of hands slip around my torso and up my chest from behind me. I enjoyed the feeling of her fingers teasing my stomach so much that I almost didn’t turn around to face her for fear that I wouldn’t like what I saw. Luckily, when I finally did turn, a wave of relief washed over me. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-three and was come-in-your-pants gorgeous. Solid Cs, smooth porcelain skin, and the type of hips that begged to be grabbed. So I did, pulling her so that her tight abdomen was against mine and I could feel the graze of her breasts on my chest.
As she moved deliciously to the beat of the music, she ran her hands through her long copper hair, revealing the soft skin on her neck that was glistening with a hint of sweat. My tongue swept across my lips as I imagined sucking her salty flesh. With her eyes closed, she used my body as a pole, sliding up, and then back down again until her face was in line with my crotch. Fuck, this girl knows how to move.
With one sharp movement, I spun her around so the crack of her ass in that tight burgundy dress pressed perfectly against my cock. My hands moved to her stomach, rubbing along the smooth fabric until they made their way down to her thighs and back up again, where they came to rest on the side of her round ass. She reached around to tangle her fingers in my sweaty hair, and with every gyration, I could feel myself hardening steadily. I got lost in the feeling of the alcohol, the vibration of the music, and this chick’s body grinding against mine.
And just when I thought I couldn’t have been more right about the whole “coming in my pants” prediction, I felt another set of hands massaging their way up my back. Oh, fuck yes! I reached behind me to feel the mysterious body, and I liked what I felt: her toned thighs, the soft curves of her hips. She put her own hand on mine as my fingers teased the hem of her short dress, and I thought I felt her moan against my back at the touch.
In the moment, I was oblivious to the people around me as I pushed on the woman’s neck in front of me to bend her over. I rolled my hips against her ass to create the perfect amount of friction I craved. I would have been content to do this all night: rub myself against one girl while another rubbed herself against me.