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Jill looked up at the ceiling, her “in deep thought” expression.
“I don’t remember,” she said.
We both laughed.
“Good, cause I’m dying to get this guy alone,” I told her. “And I might need you to pull his buddies aside.”
“Buddies as in plural? What kind of whore do you take me for?”
“Could make for a good video,” I reminded her.
She squinted her eyes and took a second to imagine it. She smiled and nodded her head. She was seeing it clearly.
“Tattoos and Mohawk over here?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Tattoos is kinda cute for a fucking monster. He’s huge,” she said. “But one plus side is big boys love to eat.”
All joking aside, I knew Jill would be my wing woMAN. She was always there at times like these. I had to wonder if Valentino had any gay friends to hook Ben up with, not that he needed my help in that department the night before. He’d been just fine finding some ass himself.
I held my glass out to the side and Jill met me with hers. As the glasses clinked I said, “Here’s to the Cancun conquest.”
“The Cancun conquest,” Jill repeated.
We tilted our heads back and shot down our drinks.
One shot led to another and then I was on the dance floor with Valentino showing off moves I didn’t even know I had. I became a chameleon mimicking the moves of other chicks on the floor. And I was doing great or at least it seemed that way.
Jill was next to me grinding up against Marco. She had no problem coming up with moves of her own. Marco mostly just stood in place with his hands raised, bobbing his head to the music. Jill didn’t seem to mind.
Valentino was a great dancer, especially to reggae songs, which he explained were mostly reggaeton, as in reggae beats with Spanish lyrics. The broken English reggae and the Spanish reggaeton sounded pretty much the same to me.
I didn’t care if they were singing in Chinese as long as Valentino kept his hands on my body. He was doing great in that department.
I was in front of him, my back against his chest, rubbing my ass against the front of his slacks when the music changed. The beat slowed down to what I guess was the romantic version of a reggae song. It wasn’t slow as in Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get it On, but it was much slower than anything else that had played.
I don’t know if it was the drinks or the music or the guy, but I closed my eyes and allowed myself to just feel everything for once.
“I like you,” Valentino whispered.
“Mmm, I like you,” I replied.
His chiseled chest was solid against my back. His face was near my ear. I could hear him breathing, soft and sensual. It almost seemed as if he might be blowing in my ear very gently. It was turning me on.
He was taller than me and I could feel the lump in his pants, just above my ass. I moved in a slow circle, making sure to rub up against him just right. He got the idea.
His left hand snaked around my body. It slid to the spot between my thigh and my pussy and settled there. Two fingers pressed against the fabric of my dress and I wished I were naked.
As soon as he touched me I felt a yearning inside, a dull ache that I was quite familiar with. It was desire. And I was getting wet. I didn’t want his hand on my leg or on my thigh. I wanted his fingers to keep sliding over until they were touching my clit.
They stayed in place and I considered grabbing his hand and putting it where I wanted it. I decided not to. He was the
man. He’d need to make his move.
Around us couples rocked gently to the slow rhythm. Next to us one guy kissed a girl passionately.
It suddenly felt very hot in the club. The air was humid. My hair clung to my shoulders but it turned me on even more. Feeling his sweaty arm against mine made me imagine our bare bodies pumping away in the heat. I imagined his chest glistening as he spread my legs.
