This is a work of adult fiction and should be read only by adults. It is also my work. Although I receive no compensation other than your comments, it is still my work. Please respect this and do not repost it somewhere else without talking to me first about it. If you are not allowed to read works with sexual content, either due to your age or by virtue of the laws in the geographical location in which you reside, please do not continue.
Enjoy, and if you're so inclined, please let me know what you think. —Alexis
“Meg? Why don't men dance anymore?”
It was her complaint every time we went to the bar. There was almost always live music - usually pretty good - and it frustrated her no end that men would buy her drinks, but not one ever got up to dance with her or anyone. The music called out for dancers, drew them to the floor, but they held back, glued to their barstools in their attempts to keeping appearances.
“You've seen too many movies, Jenna. I don't think men ever knew how to dance.”
“Fine. Then you dance with me.”
I loved Jenna. She was my best friend. Of course I'd dance with her.
In the middle of the crowded bar, we two women danced. As friends. But that doesn't work. There's no such thing as dancing “as friends.” Our bodies moved - separately at first - fighting for the space between us, until we weren't fighting, and we weren't separate. Rhythmic tension relaxed, syncopation became smooth. The tempo slowed, the guitar took a break, and the saxophone took over. And suddenly we were dancing together. Her casual touch on my arm became a tentatively possessive touch at the dip of my waist.
“Meg? Can I kiss you?”
I didn't know the answer. Then I heard a voice, my voice telling her, “Please.”
“Will you kiss me back?”
“Would you like me to?”
“Please.”
The air between us disappeared, trapped by our bodies. Her lips pressed against mine. Her tentative touch now firm. I felt her breasts move against mine. I felt the loss when she pulled away.
“You'd think they would dance, wouldn't you?” she said.