While slow dancing with his girl at some fancy party, he'd backed into this woman. Persian, was his guess.
He'd backed right into her as she made some kind of turn. Found he'd backed into at least two terrifics, one being for pure sexiness. Felt some heat there, a response. AAaahhhh!
Turned his head around to catch black eyes, black hair, red lips. And from that body...The Heat, pure pussy radiating through her dress. Sweaty thigh heat of a repressed womanhood, resurging.
AAaaaaahhh! He'd been with that kind of body heat before, kind of instant heat. Like a cat electrocuting itself.
All the fuckin' same, he could have gone places with this Persian babe. Say on a Persian carpet? Heh! heh! Gone places with her, given a realistic chance. A realistic chance, and not something practically suicidal--his girl being present and on full alert. So it was not to be, of course. One of those things. Fuckin' one of those things.
Did I know what he meant?
'Dollar for your thoughts, John?' His girl had asked. 'You suddenly seem so thoughtful.'
'Just thinking, just thinking,' he'd answered.
What was he going to say? Tell her that he'd just backed into the hottest pussy at the party? Ask her to give him some space to see what he could do?
Ins and Outs on the Ups and Downs that include some Notes on the Cut, Thrust and Parry that is part of the Great Game--Sexual Politics. And encompassing too Single Men and Women and the Pleasures of Youth.
