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Latin Night by Lucinda Gavin

Latin Night

Disclaimer-If you're under 18, go away! What did I just tell you?

This story is more focused on the sensual than the sexual, so if you were hoping to get off quickly, I don't think that's a probability.

"Hey! Look at you!" cried Zeke. I smiled a little as I turned for Tommy's friend. "You fixing to go out or something?"

"Yeah, I'm going dancing, while y'all mess up my living room." I looked in and saw that Tommy had already laid out the flimsy paper map with a honeycomb grid. War games tonight. "Just you and Zeke, sweetie?"

"Yep. Everyone's out of town during the semester break. Sure you don't want to stay and join us? Isn't it going to be hot there?"

"No, you and Zeke have fun. The club will be less crowded, and I've learned to sweat gracefully. I'll see you later tonight, sweetie." I kissed Tommy on the top of his head and squeezed his shoulder. The big man mumbled something and patted my hand as he focused on the overflowing clipboard in his hand. As I stepped out of the house, I stumbled against the humidity, so heavy in contrast to the air conditioned house. The mist rose up from the pavement, which was still wet from the evening rains. I felt the moisture bead up on my forehead.

Damn, I thought, this is going to be sooo flattering.

I parked in the lot across from the club, actually an old house that had been converted into a night club. It has two small dance floors and several rooms with low couches and pillows, it is really a fun place. As I left my car, the man who is part pan-handler and part evangelist greeted me. His presence is actually a comfort, knowing the college town's crack houses are only a block or two away. I walked up the steps to the house, pulling my driver's license from a tiny purse. The bouncer was dressed in black and it was clear he worked out, although the t-shirt hung loosely and he wore baggy pleated trousers. It was too hot to be a show off tonight.

It was still early, so I bought a soda and sat at a table. A few people waved and I smiled back. They didn't beckon me over and I didn't leave my table. They were speaking Spanish, and I haven't learned the language although I suppose I should. I came to dance, and they knew that. I'm too old, too white, and too ... different to completely belong here. I know, I know, I shouldn't think that way. These are college kids, but you won't see pierced noses or tattoos or combat boots on Latin Night. I don't know why not, but you won't. These kids are middle class and mainstream.

A colleague from the department came over and talked with me a while. He was being very gracious, and I appreciated that. We talked shop for a moment and I let him go circulate. I went to the other side of the house to watch the dancers. I felt the music before I heard it, the insistent beat of a merengue. Merengue was the first Latin dance I learned, it's the first Latin dance anyone learns. It's a simple one-two, one-two beat, the trick is the hips. There were only a handful of couples on the floor, although the adjoining room had a few clusters of women dancing in circles. Some of the young women wore their little black dresses with the spaghetti straps and high heeled shoes. Others wore little tank tops and miniskirts or tight fitting bell bottoms. Later, I would see Dominique from dance class, with a filmy top tied at the waist and an equally filmy and flippy white miniskirt with a thong clearly visible. You have to admire that girl's audacity.

As for myself, I had to compromise between audacity and sensibility. I wore a purple t-shirt dress that would have been a minidress on someone taller, but suited me fine. It's v-neck gave me enough cleavage for confidence and that's about it. I wore flats, I wanted to last a little longer than three dances, and no stockings. I left my eyeglasses in the glove compartment and my hair was restrained by nothing but an amazing concoction used to tame curls in this awful humidity. And under it all was a black lace bra and a thong. I couldn't help but feel a little aroused when the soft cotton of my dress slid across my bare hips and the thong shifted between my legs as I walked. I've learned it's that little sparkle in your eye that attracts men better than anything else.

I leaned against the wall, watching people dance. This particular club has painted their walls in a dark undulating pattern I'm old enough to recognize as psychedelic. In the darkness, interrupted by the disco lights, it appears black, white and brown. The shifting lights and moving bodies combined with the smell of smoke and heat, and I was immersed in a purely sensual experience. The smell of cloves was heavy and it bit at my throat. The DJ played another merengue and the men pulled the women close, leading them in tight, frantic circles before releasing their young beauties for a turn or two. I saw an arm stretched out before me, and recognized my colleague in the darkness.

I gave him my arm and he led me to the dance floor. I joke that this is the only place I let someone else lead. That's more true than I'd like to admit. I rested my left arm over his and he took hold of my right hand. We began our own merengue, my hips rocking in time with his. In spite of the erotic implications, we've always maintained the appropriate distance physically and emotionally. I felt my body awaken to the music and I let him lead me through the turns. I've always considered myself clumsy and it still startles me that I can dance now. Sweat ran down my back and down my face. I didn't care, that's what I was here for. In spite of myself, I felt a warmth build between my legs, and that was okay with me.

The song ended, and I thanked my partner. The next song was a salsa, but to use the singular is misleading. This is not one basic step, there are many variations, and each man has his favorite. Salsa isn't a bad word for this dance, a lot of hot stuff chopped up and thrown together. I saw Terrell and asked him if he would dance. Terrell is a physical dancer and if you don't match his burly style of salsa, he will drag you across the floor. As he turned me, my hand slipped across his slick arm and I almost lost his grasp. He laughed and pulled me into a tight circle, his arm close against my back. Terrell let go, turns me a few times and we continued dancing.

By the time the next song began, I was pretty hot and sweaty and needed a little break. I found a chair and watched the dancers. Couples filled both rooms as the young men consumed enough liquid courage to ask the young women to dance. A few young men were very good, moving gracefully with compact, lean bodies. Their hair was cut very short as a defense against the heat. A couple almost remind me of the young flyboys from a local air base back home, that would come to clubs when I had been an undergraduate. Their partners were equally graceful, and pretty, since a man who dances well will surely attract attention. I couldn't help but notice the girls' slender legs, shaped by months or years of dancing. I looked on with a bit of envy at these beautiful young women, particularly as they turned the floor with such confident partners. I noticed a group of black girls dancing together on one side of the room. They moved in a different style to the fast, heavy beat than that of the Latin dancers. One young woman in particular expressed the erotic rhythms in her own compelling way, arching her supple back. I watched a young man teach his blond girlfriend how to salsa. I eventually lost focus of the details and it all ran together, the bodies moving, black, white and brown.

A young woman with pretty face, wearing a wrap skirt and a short top that showed her belly, walked onto the dance floor with a young man. As he put his hand on her back, she pulled herself to him, pressing her hips against his. Her hips moved in time with the music against his thigh and when he looked down at her, she smiled. The young man lead her into a turn and as the girl moved, she turned slowly, keeping her hips touching him. He then led her into a 'basket' where she faced away from him, their arms wrapped around her, her pelvis swaying and rubbing the front of his pants. I watched this rhythmic seduction, unable to turn away. Terrell, exhausted, collapsed beside me. He leaned over to speak into my ear.

"What's up, you're looking like a zombie or something."

I turned to speak into his ear over the loud music.

"I'm watching them, can't help it."

Terrell looked up to see the young couple intertwined. He smiled and leaned back to my ear.

"Hoo yeah, they're gettin' jiggy with it! Why don't you go home to your old man and do something about it?"

"I should, but he's still gaming... I just need to be distracted."

"Allow me, then. May I have this dance?"

So once again, Terrell was leading me across the dance floor, and I was focused on keeping up with him. He made few funny faces and even led me into a triple step swing, which is seen mostly in country and western bars. I laughed. As we danced, I became drenched with sweat, my hands slipping in Terrell's, and it became too difficult for him to turn me in his vigorous style. Terrell was tired too, the humidity was simply too much. Soon he just pulled me against him and we rocked back and forth on the dance floor. I was intensely aware of his hand on my lower back and the heat returned between my legs as his hips pressed against mine. Terrell brought my right hand up to rest on his shoulder and then my left. The heat turned to an ache as his hands returned to my waist. He squeezed me for a moment and I closed my eyes. A part of me wanted to beg him to move his hands lower, and I could feel every brush of his leg between my thighs. I was no longer aware of the music except for the driving beat which resonated between our bodies. I no longer smelled the smoke, but I could smell Terrell, the sweat and something which I guessed to be desire. All I could see was my hand resting against his shoulder, while the sweat glistened on his neck -- black, white, and brown. I was lost to my senses and to the man in whose arms I stood.

And the music ended.

The next song brought a mild outcry, and I heard the word `Lame!' bounce from the crowd. I was a bit startled and backed away from Terrell. I noticed immediately that Terrell didn't stop me. The air felt cool on the places where Terrell's body had been. It took me a moment to look Terrell in the face and even then, he didn't meet my gaze right away.

"I'm going to get something to drink, you want anything?" He finally managed.

"Uh no, I think I'd better be getting home, the smoke is getting to me."

"Yeah, it gets to me too."

"Well, um, thanks for the dance."

"Listen, Dr. Kruger, I mean, Meg ..."

"It's okay, Terrell... it was nice."

"It's cool then?"

"It's cool." I smiled up at the young man, touching him on the shoulder. The air felt much fresher outside than in the crowded club, and my head cleared somewhat. When I stepped into my car, however, a sense of loss came over me. I turned on the radio and found the Spanish station. I wanted the noise, the beat, not the silence of my car. When I arrived home, I was disappointed to see Zeke's pickup in the driveway, even though I knew it was still early for them.

Even before I opened the front door, I could hear Metallica playing. It wasn't fair, but this was exactly what I didn't want.

"Hey honey, you're home early. Woooeee! You look like a drowned rat! Told you it was going to be hot."

"Yeah, I must look a mess. I'm really tired, I'm just going to shower and go to bed. Could you turn down the music a little?" I could hear my voice getting sharp and felt guilty. Goddamit, why did I feel guilty?

"Sure thing. You're sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I just need to rest."

I went straight to the upstairs bathroom and turned on the water. I kicked off my shoes and pulled the damp cotton dress over my head. I watched myself in the mirror as I reached behind and unhooked my bra. The flesh was red where the straps dug into my shoulders. I tried to slide the thong off my hips, yanking at it as it stuck to my sweaty skin. I stepped into the shower, letting out a tired breath. I just stood and let the hot water run over me. I picked up the soap and began to lather up, beginning with my tired ankles. I tried to use slow strokes to bring back the aroused feeling, but something was wrong. Midway through the shower, I tried again by slipping my finger between my legs, but it wasn't right, I was forcing it. At least shampooing my hair felt somewhat soothing. I got out and toweled myself off, wrapping the big damp towel around me. I was relieved to turn off the bright lights of the bathroom as I went to bed.

When I entered the bedroom, I walked over to the small collection of CD's and found some Latin music. I had bought it for practicing between classes. I went back to the queen size bed I shared with Tommy and put the CD in my portable player, so that I could use the headphones. I hit the play button and once again I felt the beat. I unwrapped the towel and lied back on the bed in the dark. I let myself relax and tried to remember Terrell's familiar hands. This time, they slid down to my ass, and squeezed them, rubbing them possessively. I imagined I lifted a leg and wrapped it around him, pulling myself onto him more tightly. My nipples hardened in the cool air conditioned room and I took them between my thumb and fingers, rolling them, pinching them, and evoking that familiar tension. My pussy began to ache and I spread my legs. I believed that the ache pulsated to the beat of the music. I slipped my fingers of one hand between the folds of my pussy and found my clit. I rubbed it directly in small circles. I then dipped a finger farther down and found that I was wet. I brought some of the juices up to my clit. As I rubbed, the little bud would slip under my finger, teasing me and causing the aching to build.

I thought back to the young man as we danced and he pressed my body into his. I imagined grinding my hips into his and feeling his erection. I wanted to slip my hand down and rub his young cock, while he slipped his hands between my legs and feel my arousal. My pussy ached and I pressed my feet into the bed, squeezing my pelvis. My breathing became heavy and I could feel my face get flushed. I couldn't distinguish my pulse from the throbbing beat of the music. I imagined Terrell taking me there on the dance floor with impatient thrusts as I ground my fingers against my sensitive clit. I felt the orgasm spread from my clit until a light sweat broke on my forehead. My head fell back on the pillow.

The music suddenly seemed very loud, and I took off the headphones. I was still breathing heavily and felt that drowsy feeling. I woke again when Tommy came to bed.

"Mmmm... you smell good. I see you used Uncle Tommy's never-fail insomnia remedy."

"Huh?... oh ... mmm-masturbation, you mean?" Tommy had his hand between my legs, coating his fingers with my juices.

"Dreaming of me I hope?"

"Huh? Uh... well..." I didn't know what to say, Tommy and I have tried to be honest with each other.

"Mmmm," Tommy said as he ducked his head under the covers, "An extra- curricular fantasy?"

"Well, maybe..."

"That's a relief," Tommy said, muffled by the quilt, "Wouldn't want to be the only one in the house with those. Why don't you tell me about it, while I'm under here, eh?"

I would have jumped as Tommy took my clit in his mouth, but he grabbed my hips and held me steady.

"Ummm," I said as my voice trembled with arousal, "As you know, I wore the purple dress tonight..."

Lucinda Gavin --

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