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She gazes up at me with an almost dreamy expression, her lips parted slightly. Then she nods.
I take her hand, guiding her down the hallway toward a booth that has its curtains open, revealing no one inside. I'd noticed this hallway while I was waiting and hoping Calli would find me again, and I'd asked the bartender about the booths. Now, I usher the bonnie American into the empty space, pulling the purple curtains shut behind us.
Calli stares at the semicircular table and the plum-colored velvet that upholsters the curved sofa behind it. The tabletop has a plum surface too, with a thick, flickering candle at its center. Wax gathers within the candle's concave top, forming a lava-like pool at its center and dribbling down the sides.
I place a hand on the small of her back. "Have a seat."
Calli is staring at the ledge that backs the sofa, where I notice a small bowl, deep purple in color and filled with condom packets. This is a true hedonist's heaven, isn't it? I love women, but I am not that sort.
My future wife seems shocked by that bowl and its contents.
I wince. "Didn't know about those. I swear, I didn't."
"I believe you. First time at Dance Ardor?"
"Yes. Have you been before?"
"No. Came for my cousin's bachelorette party."
Lowering onto the sofa, Calli shimmies sideways until she's behind the table with the bowl of condoms behind her.
Maybe we could make use of that bowl…
No, that would be pushing her. I need to take it slow.
I slide in beside her, draping an arm across the sofa's back behind her shoulders. She smells wonderful, like all sorts of womanly things I can't describe. Sitting beside her like this, I have a perfect view of her bonnie tits, thanks to the plunging neckline of her frock.
Smoothing out her dress, she clears her throat. "Sorry I shoved you into that room with all those ravening bridesmaids. They're actually nice ladies, but they've had a little too much champagne tonight."
"Have you been drinking?"
"No. Told you I don't drink."
"Thought maybe you were desperate enough to try it after being in a room with those bampots. Are you the one chosen to drive everyone home?"
"I'm not the designated driver." She squirms a little. "We came in a van with a professional driver."
"Hope he's not in this club getting jaked." When I realize she seems confused, I explain, "Getting drunk."
"No,sheis waiting in the van watching TV on her phone."
"Ah." I glance down at her feet. "How's the ankle?"
"Okay. Hurts a little when I walk, especially in these heels."
"May I have a look? I'm no doctor, but I've had my share of injuries." And been the cause of someone else's pain. But I'm in America to forget all that rubbish.
Calli gnaws on her lip. "It's not necessary. Really."
"Humor me?" I say. "I won't bite. Unless you want me to."
Can't help it. I give her my wickedest grin. Since her lips tick upward a wee bit, I think she likes my devilish side.
The lass leans back against the plush cushioning and raises her foot.
I clasp it in both hands, bringing her leg up and onto my lap with everything from her knee down in contact with my body. I slip her shoe off and set it on the table, then skate my hand over the sole of her foot and down to her delicate toes that have curled slightly as if she loves my touch. The sensation of her skin on mine arouses me even more, and a brilliant idea occurs to me. Though I'd offered to examine her injured ankle, I don't want to give up the feel of her skin just yet, and maybe I can use my examination as an excuse to keep touching her. I rub the ball of her foot with leisurely strokes, letting my fingers roam over her skin while I knead her flesh and revel in the pleasure of touching her and seeing the desire on her face.
"It's my ankle," she says, "not my toes."
