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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.

Latin Night by Lostgirl

"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,

"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

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

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

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

"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

"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..."


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