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We went back to the topic of her work, brainstorming some ideas for her blog, how to get her business off the ground. I got so wrapped up in the conversation that I hardly noticed when the food came.
“Uh, you going to eat that?” asked Dream, pointing to my big plate of meat and lentils all served on a flat circle of unleavened bread.
“Shoot!” I replied, turning my attention to my food. “How the hell did I miss this?”
“That’s got to be the first time I’ve ever seen you ignore food,” she said. “I’ve more than a few memories of us having to order a separate pizza just for you back in high school.”
I laughed. “What can I say – I like to eat!”
We worked through our dinners. Afterwards, the two of us were so wrapped up in conversation that we decided to grab some drinks at the Surefire Inn, a place that I loved, situated a little out of town. Over beers, we talked some more about her job plans, even doing some research on other festivals and farmer’s markets up and down the coast.
About halfway into our second pitcher, however, Dream sat back with a despondent expression on her face.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing. Just that this is…well, it’s exciting. But it’s scary too, you know?”
I grinned. “That’s how you know you need to do it. It’s important to shake things up every now and then, do something that scares the crap out of you.”
“You know, you sound like one of those novelty mugs you can buy at Marshalls – ones that have expressions like that.” She gave my leg a warm squeeze.
I laughed. “Maybe I do. But it’s how I live my life, and that attitude has taken me to some pretty great places. It’s got me sitting at a bar with just about the hottest woman on the west coast.” That last part sort of slipped out. But it was true.
Her face went red, but she kept on smiling. “Thanks, Evan. You’re sweet. You’ve always been like this, always had such a big heart.”
I winked. “Thanks, Dream. But now I’m thinking about mugs…maybe we need to get you one. I’m thinking one that says something like ‘Girlboss,’ all one word, with a hashtag.”
She laughed. Just then, the music picked up in the bar. A quick glance to the main floor let me see that the place had nearly filled up. Dream and I shared a confused look, both of us wondering what the hell was going on. The bartender, seeming to pick up on our bewilderment, tapped a flyer that hung from one of the mirrors behind the bar. It read “Honky-Tonk Night” with the date on the flyer being today.
Despite how much I was enjoying the conversation, a little dancing sounded nice. But I wanted to make sure Dream was in the mood. Before I could say a word, I glanced down to see that she was moving her hips from side to side where she sat, the music moving through her as she watched the crowd.
“Miss Dream,” I said, hopping out of my seat and extending my hand in a jokingly over-the-top gesture. “May I have this dance?”
She broke out into a huge smile as she glanced down at my hand. “That sounds quite wonderful, good sir,” she said, imitating my joking formality.
With that, I took her hand and helped her out of the seat. I gestured to the bartender, and then to the napkins we’d written on, and he got the message and took them out of sight. Once that was settled, we were on the dance floor.
The crowd was crazy, the music moving through us as we shook our butts. Dream was impossible to keep my hands off, her toned, curvy body grinding against mine as we worked our way from one song to the next. When the first song ended, we hurried to the bar to throw back a couple of whiskey shots, the booze burning just right on the way down.
“This was exactly what I needed, Evan!” she shouted over the music. “You’ve always been good at this, taking my mind off of things.”
“My pleasure!” I said, shouting right back. “And you’re not such bad company yourself!”
She winked and I winked right back, Dream grabbing my hand and leading us back out to the dance floor. There was something in the air, something unleashed by the music and the dancing and the booze…it was like we were both giving in to what we’d both wanted.
We were lost in the music, my hands on her hips and her ass against my crotch, the bass thumping. By this point the crowd was so thick we could barely move, our bodies pressed against one another’s. I grew bold, moving my right hand from her hip to her belly then under her shirt up to the bottom of her bra.
She didn’t stop me. Hell, not only did she not stop me, but she placed her hand on mine and held it there. My cock went stiff in my jeans, my left hand on the front of her waist, pressing her back against me, making sure she felt it.
I wanted her, and there wasn’t any doubt in my mind that she wanted me.
Then the song ended, relative quiet returning to the room.
We went back to the bar, leaning against it as we caught our breath. And damn, damn, damn, did she look good. Her body glistened with just a bit of sweat, her chest rising and falling as she undid her ponytail, letting her hair hang loose on her slender shoulders. I wanted her so badly it hurt.
But she seemed pensive. I leaned in and asked, “You alright?”
She flicked her eyes up at me, and I could sense the conflict.
“Dream, ever since you were a kid you’ve always been a thinker, you know? Smart and sharp, but always up in your own head, always thinking about what you should be doing instead of what you want to be doing.”
She smiled slightly, and I could sense I’d hit onto something.
“Now,” I said, preparing myself for the million-dollar question. “Let me ask you this – what do you want to be doing right now?”
