She Learns Her Place

First, you normally would have been disturbed by this intrusion on your quiet time, but with me, it seemed somehow different, somehow natural that I would be there at this moment. My presence in this intimate setting didn't bother you in the least ... in fact, you enjoyed it. Second, you noticed the glowing smile that creeped across my eyes when I looked at you. From that smile, you knew that all had not been lost, there was still a spark that could not be denied.

After a second, during which we both enjoyed this feeling, I said "we still have some time before there will be many people there, why don't we go get some dinner first."

"That would be nice," you said, not feeling the need to say anything more. I let you continue, and you now had a slightly different feeling ... just the slightest hint that you were preparing yourself ...

Where would we have gone but to Houlihan's. We didn't get one of the private tables in the back, but a quiet table in a corner nonetheless. As we ate a simple meal, we chatted, and you felt those same feelings returning. Those feelings that you were melting into me ... it was not so much sexy this time as happy and fun, as our bodies occasionally, seemingly involuntarily, brushed up against each other.

You just barely noticed an idea growing in the back of your mind, a question you couldn't quite define ... you were curious about what was going to happen that night.

By the time we arrived at Candy's, your attitude about the evening had definitely changed: you were ready, and, by the looks of them, the people at Candy's were too! The place was nearly full of men and women between about 21 and 30. Each and every one of them visibly on the prowl. You couldn't help but feel a tingle of excitement as we walked into and across the main room. Not only did you feel the looks of the men who were aggressively examining you (to this, you had grown to accept), but you also felt, and this was new, the searching glances of the women who, with only just a little bit more subtlety, were examining me ... deciding if they were going to make their move, or wait for me to do so.

As you found yourself focusing intently on these women who surrounded us, you felt two emotions growing inside of you. Of course you were jealous and defensive, hoping to both ward them off and prove yourself to me, but you were also ... and this was a deeper emotion ... excited by the concept that it would be up to me to pick one of these women tonight.

To see the looks in their eyes, to see them preparing to offer themselves to me, something inside of you was sparked. You didn't realize it then, but it was your desire to do the same. Glancing back at me, at my eyes searching over the room, you felt a surge of energy, a momentary surge of the masculinity, the aggressiveness, that I represented in this context. For a moment, you were both the searcher, and the chosen one.

We arrived at a high table near the bar with two free stools. Only a moment after we settled down, and before we had even said anything, a young, attractive, sexy blonde, about your age, walked (or better yet, given her high heels, sauntered) by our table. Of course, my eye moved over her body, clad only in a short, tight, red cocktail dress (except for it being red, it was just about the dress you had wished you could bring yourself to wear that evening). When she passed our table, you were not surprised that she dropped her purse, and had to kneel down to get it.

As you watched this scene across the table, you saw that she was now kneeling before me, and I was looking down at her with the same mixture of power and desire that you now realized you had been fantasizing about. She looked up and, as her gaze locked with mine, she paused for just an instant before making some silly excuse about how clumsy she was.

"Not at all, you have to be careful in a crowded room like this," I said as I reached out to take her hand and help her to her feet.

As we sat there for a moment, not two feet in front of you, you felt as if you were being torn in half. A part of you wanted only to leave at that very instant, to not be a part of this at all ... only to be entirely ashamed by what you had agreed to be a part of by coming here. But the other part of you was fascinated by what you saw, forced you to keep your eyes locked on the scene in front of you. This part of you fed on the sexual energy that was building between me and this blonde, this part of you was whispering in the back of your head, "ask her to dance."

"Would you like to dance?" I asked.

Before she could say "Sure," before we could even look at you, we were moving to join the bodies pulsating together on the dance floor.

-----

As you watched me out on the dance floor with the blonde in the tight red mini-dress, you couldn't help but notice ... how good we both looked! When you had seen me earlier in your apartment, it's true that you were attracted to me, but not exactly in the way you now were. Despite my general clumsiness, you couldn't help but be excited by the way I had taken this woman directly out to the floor and was now moving my body, rhythmically and seductively, in front of her. You had never seen me so alive ... so virile ... you couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like to ...

The woman was obviously enjoying herself too, she enjoyed displaying her body, which was certainly worth displaying ... she moved herself unashamedly ... alternately thrusting her hips rhythmically and writhing seductively from side to side ... she left no doubt about the impression she wanted to convey, and you were struck ... turned on, in fact ... by her audacity. In fact, you were so enthralled by our performance, that when a rather nerdish guy asked you to dance, your simple "no thanks" was just a step above ignoring him.

As the song wound down, you watched as the blonde and I parted company as simply and quickly as we had made our connection. We had finished ... we each got what we wanted ... and now it was over with no questions asked. I came back to join you and, as we sipped our drinks, we made some simple small talk. But what we said didn't matter. This first dance (even though we hadn't technically shared it) had energized us, had set the stage for that evening, so that your mind and body were filled with indefinite thoughts and feelings which words couldn't express.

When I asked if you would like another drink, you only needed to let out a dreamy "hmm, hmm" and I knew what you wanted. You watched, hardly surprised, (expecting it, wanting it, in fact) when I met another woman, a brunette this time, clad in the least amount of clothing that she could get away with, at the bar. We talked for a minute or two and, as for you, I just had to set down your drink before heading out to the floor again, with the second one I had chosen.

You only had to watch us for a moment, moving again to the seductive rhythm of the music, before you realized that you were fully in the mood. You turned your gaze to a group of three rather attractive men who had just arrived and were standing by the bar. You knew that, in this context, formalities were unnecessary, so you just strolled over to them and, reaching towards the cutest of the three, ran your hand along the lapel of his jacket. The expression of your face and body made everything clear to him, and his friends could only chuckle as took your hand and led you out to dance.

This guy knew what he was doing on a dance floor, as well, and as you danced, you did not prevent yourself from focusing on his hips, on his shoulders, as you moved to match his rhythm, allowing him to direct your body, as you let yourself be carried away. What's more, to do so in this public context, among so many others doing exactly the same thing, only emboldened you, as you put even more emotion and passion in the twisting of your body. All the while, you never lost sight of me, dancing only 10 feet away. You hoped so much that I would look your way, but I never did, and you took this as silent permission to submit yourself to this new partner, to let him control your movements with his own.

As this song wound down, leading directly into the next, there was a weird sort of reshuffle, as the various people on the dance floor simply moved on to another partner, without a word to the last or a greeting to the next. It's simply that, for a moment, everyone's eyes searched their surroundings hungrily, before locking onto their next partner. As you adapted your motions to the body of your next "mate," who moved with an energy and power that was ... impressive, to say the least ... you noticed that I had coupled again with the blonde, who had managed to work her way towards me again.

You found yourself becoming incredibly turned on, as you had to move your body frantically ... but very pleasantly so ... to keep up with your partner, and as you wondered about this blonde, about what exactly she was after. By the time the second song was winding down to the third, your head was so lost in your fantasies that, for a moment, you didn't realize that you had spun around and were staring directly at me, barely a foot away from you.

The third song began, a very rhythmic, pulsating, techno number, and you realized that, almost involuntarily, you had begun to move with me. Although you didn't notice at the time, you later thought that it was strange that, this being our first "encounter," it had begun so inevitably ... I was simply there, in front of you, and you knew that you were to move with me. But at the time, you were distracted by something else ...

As we moved together, a very strange sensation, a sort of transformation, overwhelmed all of your senses. Gradually, the beat of the music, the beat of the song you knew so well, increased in importance until it dominated the rhythms of your body and your mind. Your vision began to shimmer as the others dancing around us slowly faded and then disappeared. Your sense of touch indicated to you only the powerful back-beat of the music, highlighted by occasional sparks when our bodies brushed, or even pressed, together.

Your mind was also overwhelmed by images that you didn't so much "see" but rather sensed with some sort of intuition. Me moving in the kitchen with you, smiling at you over the meal we shared, standing in the bathroom and shaving before that mirror. You began to realize ...

When the only things you sensed were your own body moving with the music and the vision of me moving to the same rhythm, another transformation, even more powerful, took hold. What was before you did not change, but what you saw began to morph, as I grew in your eyes from about your height to about 6'2". Moreover, my shoulders broadened, my chest expanded and the biceps and triceps of my arms bulged out of a shirt which now appeared about two sizes too small. Nonetheless, my hips and buns did not change, remaining as slim and tight as they are, as the muscles in my thighs grew until they were obviously straining against my slacks.

Your own body seemed to undergo the same transformation -- with a tingling sensation, you felt your hips, thighs and buns become as lithe and lean, as taut and toned, as you had hoped so often when you worked out in the gym. Your stomach, too, became sinewy as you could almost feel the muscles slightly rippling around your midsection. Your breasts remained beautiful, perfect orbs, that were now held up prominently by muscles that stretched around, over your shoulders, and down slim arms and your smooth, inviting back.

After this transformation, brought on by the power of the music, the delight of moving your body with mine, and the thoughts that filled your mind, you felt as if we had entered another world, a world all our own where everything we ever desired could be ours for the taking. All that we had to do was imagine, wish it to be true, and between ourselves it would become true ... and always be true. You wished this song could go on forever, and somehow, you suspected it would.

Finally, as the music wound down and you heard the distant voice of the DJ say that she would take five, you remained in your reverie. Slowly rocking back and forth to the beat that still filled your body, you looked into my eyes as we shared a gentle, knowing smile. Already, if you had opened your mind to notice, you would have seen how easily we were slipping into our respective roles, how natural it had become.

"thank you" you said in a whisper that only I could hear. It wasn't necessary for me to respond, as I looked back at you with a smile indicating that I knew exactly what was filling your head. A moment later, I reached out and gently nudged you on the shoulder, leading you back to the table where we had been a few moments (or was it a few years?) ago.

We sat at our table together for a few moments, wordlessly sipping the drinks we had left behind, looking at each other, each thinking, without saying, just how good the other was looking at that moment.

Then, the brunette I had danced with a moment ago came back, with a friend who appeared to set a new standard in "undressing while dressing." She was wearing only a gauzy crop top, hot pants and heels -- better than naked, for a man like me. You and I turned to look at them, and listen as they began their little patter. Even though they never glanced at you, you fully enjoyed the little performance they put on for my benefit. They told me about how they both would like to dance with me together, while all the time making clear to me exactly what they had in mind ... what they would be willing to do ... if I only would give them an indication that I would permit them to do so, to be mine, for that evening.

You didn't even want me to ask you, you only wanted me to take them ... right there, in front of you. So that when I took them each by the hand, and led them out to the floor as the next song began, without me even so much as saying a single word in reply to them, you could only squirm back and forth on your little bar stool.

"Interesting performance."

You spun around to face the blonde, who apparently had been watching as long and as closely as you had, and by the look on her face, she shared what you had been thinking. She moved closer to you, brushing her body against yours in a conspiratorial manner. You didn't back away.

"He's really looking good," she said, nodding towards me. "Friend of yours?" When you said nothing, she continued. "You know, a lot of people come to a place like this just looking to pick someone up. They can't see any further than what's throbbing between their legs. But other people really see the possibilities of a situation like this. There's a lot more that's available out there," nodding towards the dance floor, "than some hard pricks and wet pussy."

In your current state, what this blonde was saying to you was almost too much. She seemed to know what you were thinking, in the back of your head, but when you were confronted by it like this, the crudeness was almost shocking to you.

She appeared to notice your reaction. "Don't worry, honey," she said. "It's just that I can see that you haven't got such a ... limited ... attitude. And he certainly doesn't ... not at all ... " she let her voice trail off, looking at me.

"You know," she said, "you shouldn't be ashamed of what you're thinking ... a lot of people like to watch."

When she saw your sharp glance, she softened her tone a bit. "Don't worry, baby," she said, "I didn't mean you would have to watch ...

"I could watch ...

"he could watch ..."

Again, she let her voice trail off as she looked into your eyes. Despite the strangeness of what she was saying, you didn't look away. A moment later, you both turned to look again, and watch me moving on the dance floor with my two young prizes ... all the while, you felt her body pressed against yours ...

When the song ended and I came back to the table with my new friends, you just had to snap out of your reverie. This was all very interesting ... to say the least, stimulating ... but it was just more than you could handle for one evening. You said that you just had to go ... you would have no problem getting a taxi ... and though I made a pretense of objecting, I knew that you didn't want me to.

You left the room, forcing yourself not to turn around to watch ... whatever that blonde might say.

Fifteen minutes later, you were back in your apartment. So quiet, so distant from that Singles' Bar. With your post-party buzz, you found yourself wondering just what exactly had happened. You strolled over to your bedroom, and slowly undressed, absent mindedly tossing your clothes aside, letting your mind move lazily over what had happened since you had gotten dressed, only a few hours before.

You looked up, and saw your own body in the mirror, naked except for the thong you wore ... a thong which now felt so natural. A few moments passed, a few moments you couldn't describe, until you leisurely slipped into a cropped t-shirt (no bra) and loose cotton shorts. You moved into the living room, put on some quiet jazz, and flipped through a magazine ... were you waiting?

-----

After coming back from Candy's that evening, you alternately sat on the couch and tried to relax, or paced around your apartment, looking out the large windows to the view of the city, wondering where I was and what I was doing. You also found yourself wondering about what you had seen, and said, and done, and thought, that evening.

Looking back on it now, you found yourself unsure of what exactly had happened, how much was real and how much was your imagination. But most of all, you couldn't quite understand how you had come to have such unexpected thoughts, and why you had the nagging sensation in the back of your head that you wanted something, something that almost repulsed you, and yet you found so fascinating. Your head was so full of new impressions and new ideas that you couldn't sort out where these new desires had come from. But, much as they confused you, these new feelings also exhilarated you, liberated you from constraints which you could no longer justify.

You found yourself almost in a sort of dialogue, in your own head, with another part of your personality. You heard a voice that was encouraging you, reminding you of what you had seen and thought at Candy's. While another part of you, maybe the more rational part, said that it was just your imagination, you had let the drinks and the moment run away with you, and that you had to be more realistic.

You had just about settled down, and even found your eyelids drooping, when you heard keys fumbling at the door. You quickly scampered over to the couch, looked at the magazine and tried to strike a casual pose.

Quietly, I opened the door, tiptoed in, and shut it behind me. As you were sitting next to the only light in the room, you couldn't quite see me in the darkness, as I took just a few steps forward to the edge of the light. You could see only my dress shoes and slacks clearly.

"I didn't think you'd still be up," I said.

"I'm here," you responded softly.

"Am I disturbing you?"

"Have a seat," you said to me, while the voice in your head said, "Why should he ask permission now? He knows what he's going to do."

After I sat down, you took a moment just to look at me. You couldn't quite read my expression. On the one hand, I was clearly still "up" from earlier that evening -- that was clear from the glint in my eye. But the rest of my expression was as composed as usual and, though you couldn't quite put your finger on why, it seemed that I was waiting for something, expecting something. You let your eyes drop from mine. I had taken off my jacket at the door, so your eyes lingered on my disheveled tie and my dress shirt, now slightly rumpled over my shoulders and chest.