A Story

A story I started writing and never finished. I don’t even remember what inspired these words, but he takes over this fantasy and makes my heart beat and my mouth turn to a smile.

I only want to dance with ‘him’ now…

Music played. The taste of the beer she was drinking was a welcome change from her standard glass of water. The alcohol was playing in her blood, prodding her eyes to dance and turning the corners of her mouth into a smile.
Her legs crossed themselves under the table as they had so many times before, without her mind even needing to consciously send messages down her spine for them to move into position. She lifted her glass and took another sip.
She turned in her seat, her eyes taking in the band and a woman dancing to the beat. The crack of a cue ball smacking its target found its way into her ear, mixing with the loud beat of the drum and curling up with the licks of the guitar.
But all she could seem to focus on was her ankles, screaming with the desire to brush up against the legs of the man seated to her right. And her hands that longed to touch his thigh. He wasn’t at all the type of man who generally turned her head, but he was handsome in his own way and his smile was creeping under her skin. Her mind called out to the licks of the guitar and the beat of the drum and the cracks of the pool balls, begging them to pull her back from his energy. But even they couldn’t fight her eyes as they drank in his fingers, slowly moving up the side of his beer glass.
He leaned toward her, cocking his head playfully as he spoke, and she couldn’t help but lean into him as well as his words fell over her. As they both pulled back in the ebb and flow of their body language, she took a breath and hoped that the other three people at the table couldn’t see her attraction to him.
She quickly turned in her seat, trying to gain some control. Perhaps watching the young men in their game of eight ball would pull her from the heat. Or glancing at the neon tubes on the wall that twisted into the words Miller Lite. Or the scuff mark on the floor left by a shoe. She reached back towards the table for a sip of cold beer, confident that she could find her way out of rip tide that was tugging at her ankles.
“Would you like to dance?”
The words came at her so unexpectedly. His smile was irresistible and she couldn’t even hear herself answering. She only knew that she did because she was now pressed against him in a slow dance and her body squealed with delight.

 

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