So, um, last year this happened:
This is a re-post of Feb 5th, 2011. At the same low-key event I went to this past weekend. Only that night was packed with people waiting in line three stores long. Start the night here.
Like This But Not
I made my way to the stage, where there was a spot waiting for me. I tuned out the world–riding the beat.
Before long a couple studs and a femme came onstage. The bigger stud was dancing nearby with her girl, and the smaller stud took up a post almost directly behind me. Now Instead of tuning the world out all I could think of was her behind me, hopefully admiring my ass. It felt like such a primal mating ritual, me dancing for her, but I couldn’t stop. Finally I got tired of waiting for her to make a move and danced up to her.
She pulled me almost immediately into some of the hottest grinding I’ve ever experienced. My hips locked against hers as we moved against each other–energy pulsing back and forth between us. Before I knew it my leg was between her thighs and her hand was on my ass…my hand was on hers, seeking desperately to touch her through her clothes. Our bodies arched frantically with the music, although every time it sped up we backed off a bit and bounced with it, pretending that we were doing something other than fucking right there on the dance floor!
Before I knew it I was asking if she had a girlfriend and she was telling me she had her apartment to herself for the weekend.
Before I knew it my lips were locked with hers, my hips gyrating with hers, tongue rolling with hers.
“What are you going to do for me? She asked. I didn’t know how to take that question, so I slithered down her chest suggestively. Although she was putting more effort into downplaying them than showing them off, I could tell she had nice titties. She pursed her lips commandingly at me, and I attempted to meet them with my own.
I say attempted, because she had her hat down low, and was about four inches shorted than me. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever kissed someone who is significantly shorter than you and is wearing a low hat brim forward, but it’s not easy. I had to contort myself around her lid.
“I can’t do this.” I told her, “It keeps hitting me in the head.”
“I can’t take it off,” she said, taking it off. “I gotta big forehead.
“Well, I said, surveying her wide forehead and sweat thick smiling face. “I like it.” I kissed her on the forehead and she got all bashful, putting it back on, but this time cocked to the side. Yay, I thought now I can kiss her without getting wacked. But somehow when her head turned back to me the brim was back in front.
I turned around and pressed up against her. The music raced to a feverish pitch and I came along with it–right there on the dance floor!
I paused to fan myself with my hands. I don’t know how she wasn’t hot. The whole underside of my hair was soaked, and I was wearing a tank top. She had on a blue and white flannel and a white down vest. (Yes she was wearing plaid–but it looked fly on her.)
“Would you like to go to the bar?” She asked me.
“What are you trying to say?” I responded cautiously.
“Would you like a drink?”
“Sure.” We started walking towards the bar. She actually led me by the hand! No one ever did that to me before!
“Oh wait,” She paused. “I don’t usually come here…is there an ATM nearby?”
“There’s one next door.”
“Could you…?”
“I don’t have any cash either.” (Totally true, I brought $12 and that already paid for two beers and a generous tip.) “I am really thirsty, though.”
“Some water?”
“Sure.”
She ordered me a water and thoughtfully handed me a napkin to go with it. We talked for a moment, then she looked up across the room.
“I gotta go talk to my friend. “
“Okay, I need to visit the Ladies…meet you in a few?”
“Sure, I’ll be over there.” She motioned with her chin.
When I got out of the bathroom I didn’t see her immediately, but I didn’t worry about it unduly. I pulled my friend outside to chat. Heat steamed off our bodies in the icy night.
“So I saw you grinding with that stud.” She smirked at me.
“Yeah, I’m supposed to meet back up with her in a minute–“
“Oh really? Because I think I saw her leave–“
“You what?”
I raced back inside. But it was true, she was gone. In the three minutes that it took me to squat over the toilet and wash my hands, she had dashed.
Continue the adventure with “Second Chances“
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Just Another White Woman 
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