Jasmine

"Do you want to dance?"

Our night kicked off with this simple question. It didn't need much more than that because our setting was already perfect. Jazz music was overflowing along with the alcohol, and the swaying bodies matched up to it, dripping with sweat, love and perhaps pleasure. To join them with her of all people was a treat I'd be too stupid to turn down.

Her long, manicured hand was right above my knee. The man she came with, sitting next to her, seemed to lay completely forgotten. Ever since she noticed me, her already-meager interest in him dwindled down, so he was left to stare at his phone. Within her large, chestnut brown eyes, the warm light danced like we would soon. That flicker accentuated her beautiful, dark features, as if daring me to accept.

"I love this song! Of course I do."

We got up and I laced my arms around her shoulders, trying to some support since she was much taller than me.

She was here to have fun. Sure, dancing and jazz music were nice, but that wasn't the only fun she was seeking out; Her right hand up my skirt, coming dangerously close to the hem of my underwear told me another story.

"You seem to like jazz a lot, non?"

Oh, sweet woman, at this point, what was the use of filler talk? You know damn well I do, among other things. You haven't taken your eyes off me since you walked in fashionably late. You smiled once at the man accompanying you, yet I'm the one you want to dance with and grope and feel up until you've memorized what the shape of thigh feels like.

"Yes, ma'am!"

My peppy behavior wasn't fake; As this pub's (unofficial) popular girl, it was my duty to make sure everyone was having fun, so they'd spread the word about this place. I've even met people who came mainly because of me. She was new here. She came late and a little questioning, indicating her first time here. She did a full 180 the minute she saw me. The lecherous smile that should have been flashed towards the man in tow was mine, all mine. I have met... 'Excited' pub-goers before, but never so straightforward as her. The honesty refreshed me to seek her out, too, before other familiar friends.

I stepped, popped a hip. Another step forward, popped the other hip. The saxophone was taking a quick break. Now the keys and the drums shone together. With each chord and beat, one hip swayed, then the other. I even took care that my skirt lifted up a little, in hopes of further enticing her, seeing where, or if she had a limit. I looked up to see her transfixed on that part of my body. Both our legs shook a little, though mine more than hers.

It was hard not to admire her curves. I brought my thighs just a little closer and tighter together, even though deep down, I hoped she noticed the increasing slick between my legs. I hoped she'd pounce on me first.

"I saw that."

Whatever little distance we had was obliterated by her own bold steps. That directness told me that she was even more insistent on getting what she wanted, and now that we were concealed among the crowd of fellow dancers, nothing was going to stop her.

The bass was having a moment of notoriety, hoping the sax would come later. I decided to play coy: "Saw what?"

"It's late spring. You're shaking like a leaf."

She didn't look down, but both of us could feel it. If I didn't try not to focus, I would shiver at the cold dampness around where her hand was close. The more I looked into her eyes, the icier it felt until I squirmed awkwardly. Readjusting myself to dance normally was starting to become impossible.

"You only started shaking when I joined you. The others, you don't seem to be that interested in them."

This place was open-minded enough for her hands to be on me. I'm not sure about the other action we wanted, but at least there was that. Her hands were large, gripping onto my aching hips and with time, pressing them closer to her. She occasionally let one wander around my lower back. Everything about her was large, from those hands, to her height, to her round breasts... She could very well dominate me.

"You're very cute, you know. I'm not entirely sure why, but I just want to take care of you. Make you go home fully satiated and warm."

So much for wearing my best underwear tonight.

The keys were making a vengeance in unharmonious seventh chords. Soon enough, I was going to lose my capability of telling which one is which. How could I pay that much attention when I haven't had hands like hers on my body before? Here, this tall, domineering lady ditched her partner of (possibly) equal social standing to put me on the edge. To arouse me. To enjoy my bashfulness. To have her fun, not with him or anyone else here, but me.

The more the word 'me' repeated itself in my head, the wetter I got.

At last, my mouth spoke out what my body has been raging all night long: "Do what you want."

One of her hands was steady on my lower back, following my swaying along. The other wasn't so reliable, but more winsome like her. It moved away from my left hip, in a pace so slow I thought the band was doing slow practice, not fully jamming out. She pressed her hand against the front of my vulva, as if testing the waters I was making in her honor. Her index and middle finger slid down through my vulva to find my clit, and even though I was still clothed, the tremors that rose up against her fingers felt as if I was entirely open to her for the taking. If there was no crowd, I might as well be.

"Wait... Wait, at least let's go some..."

"Somewhere private? You're lucky I want to keep all that cuteness to myself. I just need a quick feel first."

Her fingers pressed on my clitoris, changing up her pressure as she pleased. She was unpredictable: One minute, her touch would be lighter than my skirt's fabric, yet so excruciating. The next, she'd be forceful and ruthless, as if daring me to moan at the sudden intensity, telling me: "Go ahead. Let everyone turn around and see what I'm doing. Let them all see if anyone here got you as wet as me." Every so often, her other hand would press against my back so I couldn't get away. If only I could, but that just highlighted her devilish attitude: She was driving me to my limit. She was toeing the line of my tolerance, teasing me with the fact that I wasn't as experienced as her. We weren't noticed just yet, but I felt that no staring could stop her.

How shameless. I envy her.

At last, I gained some courage and looked up to her face. I was surprised to see her blush carmine red, and bite her lip as if she was stifling something, too. I knew that she hadn't taken her eyes off me for our entire dance, just as she didn't cut my clit a break, and soon enough, she'd get to it more directly.

"You sure like to drag things out..."

She chuckled and lowered her head so I'd be the only one graced with her voice: "How can I not, with the way you're acting? It's like you've never been touched. Besides, he always rushes it. You've got better taste than that."

She cocked her head towards her partner's side, letting me know who didn't live up to her sexual preference. While she was being slow, it was nothing short of tantalizing. I wanted to come and let my legs give out, then excuse it as a misstep. I wanted the wave to crash down and finish me off, even if she'd laugh at how sensitive and helpless I was in front of her. But where was the fun in letting this encounter end so short-lived? Why give her what she wanted so quickly, before departing and thinking of how I wanted it to last longer? The last thing I wanted was to remind her of the man with sexual preference that didn't match up to her.

She had no limit. She was dead-set on testing mine, though. I knew I was in for more when she pressed me against her even closer. If anyone looked well, they would see that this was no simple dance.

She looked down at her breasts for a minute, then looked up to my face. I wasn't as discreet as I hoped: "You were staring at them earlier. Do you like them?"

"Like" was an understatement; I admired them. I couldn't expect her not to notice; She was too sharp for that. But anyone would. They were right in a heavenly middle in terms of sizing, they looked beautiful in her low cut dress, and being so close, I noticed they smelled of jasmine. The very scent made blood rush away from my head, into... What sort of jasmine was this anyway? Definitely not something from a common garden. Nothing about her was common, but all the more arousing.

"Oh my... You smell so ni-"

"I know. Enjoy it."

I didn't even notice a new song was playing until the distinct solo began. I had more important things to tend to, right in front of me. I didn't even care about trying to look more inconspicuous, should anyone look. I didn't see alcohol, instruments, jazz men or fellow dancers any more. My face was buried in her chest, seeking out the joys and comforts I'd reminisce on later, starting with that legendary jasmine. My arms pulled her shoulders closer to me, yet I never found it to be enough. Each sense in me was screaming out for more jasmine, more tall women, more silk-soft skin... More of this woman.

We were moving towards the door in small steps. My friend, who was on the keys, cast me a look. Despite my expectations, I didn't feel the need to blurt out an excuse as to why we were closer than the other dancers. Let him see, grow a boner and screw up his music. Jazz tends to be more eclectic anyways.

As soon as we walked out, I knew that the prelude was over. But I was excited, because I had a plan, too. Right next to the pub, there was an abandoned place, maybe a cafe. My clit wept at the lack of touch, because I was so close. My nerves cried out for her touch once more, and standing in this state felt like a challenge.

"I think we'll be alone here."

"Alone... Like just you and me."

"Yup..."

She seemed to enjoy that word. The more she pondered it, the wider her smirk got, and the more her legs clenched together as if our roles switched. If I peeked, I could see a dark dot on her red dress. She turned to me: "You sure you can handle being alone with me?"

Handle? Handle? I wanted to throw the word back onto her face. I wanted to elicit the same reactions she did to me, to show her that even if I'm inexperienced, I am as capable as her. I want to make her moan and scream all that I couldn't back on the dance floor. And she already made me feel so good; I would be the partner she didn't want if I didn't reciprocate. We weren't going to be disturbed anyways.

Once we were alone in the abandoned place next door, I put my hands on her shoulders: "Lay down, jasmine. Just trust me."

She smiled: "Jasmine?"

"I really like your perfume."

She winked: "I'll wear it more, then. Just for you"

Perhaps this is what she wanted all along; I could tell by how obedient she turned. Here I thought she was the dominant one, but now? Hell no. Her short hair did little to hide her red cheeks and the little lick onto her left lip.

I got on top and kissed her. How I have been craving for that to happen. I kissed and kissed and took as much of her whiskey breath as I could. I don't like whiskey but I'll drink it from her. Soon enough, my mouth wasn't going to be the only one out of control; My hand was already making its way down to the hem of her dress, in hopes of finding the ripe bliss we both chased all night. Once I lowered my head, I kissed and caressed her breasts, whilst taking in her jasmine scent.

Her deep moans reverberated through the empty place, the prettiest orchestra I heard. My clit throbbed again at the thought of what may follow this prelude.

My right hand slipped under her lace panties to stroke her vulva, up and down, without so much as missing a spot. Two or three strokes were enough to raise her volume.

"Oh, fuck, I knew I made the right choice!"

She bucked her hips upward when I came close to the hem of her dress. We had no time to waste anymore. Her panties had pretty flower patterns in lace, pitch dark as the night. How fitting, but not in this moment. As soon as I discarded them to the side, she brusquely grabbed the end of her dress up and opened her legs as wide as she could. I thought I heard a small tear as soon as she did that.

At last, I was going to be face to face with her, suckling on her jasmine-scented skin because in that moment, no need was greater than this one. Her vulva was a bit darker than her skin, glistening like sweet syrup on Middle Eastern sweets. If I peeked closely, her clitoris was already swelling, throbbing for any contact from me. I felt the urge to take off my clothes to show her that I was just like her, and she like me. But now wasn't the right time.

I took my time getting down, my hands firm on her inner thighs. In a way, it felt good to give her a taste of her medicine, even though I was desperate to please. She kept bucking forward to hurry it up.

"Come on, baby, come on..."

After what felt like five of these nights, I decided to cut her a break. My tongue started near her silky opening, then moved up to her clit. I only used the tip of it like a languid, thirsty cat. Nothing occupied my mind more than the goal of wrecking her with the same pleasure she wrecked me with.

With anything I did, she moaned louder, and louder, as if letting her subpar man and the world know that I was licking, toying with and cherishing her, as she deserved. Her taste was of the same essence as her smell: Something rare, out-of-this-world that I knew I would never encounter again. It was similar to said desserts.

She'd go back to her man and I to my life, as if he deserved this sweet nectar spilling onto my tongue. The thought made me mad and I was done being cute; I pressed my tongue against her whole slit, desperate to get as much of it as possible. By now, she wasn't mewling, she was yelling for more.

"Oh, darling, you take such good care of me! Yes, yes..."

More 'yes''es spilled out of her dark lips, but that wasn't the seal of the deal. It was the harsh grip on my hair, and how she forced my head further into her. I don't think I could go deeper into her skin, but she pushed, hoping I'd be wrong.

Soon enough, I felt her muscles clench in and out, as her slit got wetter. I wasn't sure whether she was moaning or screaming anymore. I just felt her clench sporadically as her taking me out of the pub, as her dance moves and advances on me, away from the man. Her thighs were crossed and tightened around my head, her hands gripping on my hair. What made me throb even more was the way her hips were moving; It was as if she could never get close enough to my mouth. Even if it meant I would suffocate, she was determined to milk out every ounce of pleasure she could get.

"Oh, darling... Oh, dear, I saw stars..."

She panted and kept losing words, barely stringing them together. At last, I felt like I called the shots for a change. But she got up way quicker than I usually do after orgasming, crashing her lips down onto mine. She lowered me down and lifted my skirt up.

"I think... There's still one more thing we must do."

The dom I first met was back, and damn does she recover faster than I do. Now, it was my turn to lay down underneath her. Had she been more brutish, I would have to walk home with a skirt ripped from the front. She laced her fingers onto my hips and lowered my panties, as I could hear the band playing their second last song.

She was excited. I felt that for her, there was no such thing as 'dressing down too quick'; She wanted me as bare as her, and now. As soon as my pussy was visible, and my legs were spread, she wore the prettiest smile I saw on any girl.

"How beautiful."

I couldn't help it. I chuckled: "You sure recover quicker than me. You're barely over your orgasm."

"You're still young, cutie. It will come with time. Now..."

She grabbed my wrists and held them up to my head. We kissed again and I arched my back, desperate to feel her fine figure against mine. Only that would take my mind away from the night being almost over.

She let go of my right hand and grabbed my thigh. The forceful contact made me yelp, before I mellowed into her touch. The way she grinded her hips, how her pussy made full contact with mine... Each swivel increased the pressure. With that, my clit swelled in arousal, and it was more sensitive. They all followed each other, increasing the tension in our bodies until the release we both chased arrived.

Her last moan was closer to a scream. I pulled her towards me to kiss her again, to feel each other's bliss as much as we could, so we could depart with minimal regret. Her contractions almost synced with mine. Our secretions dripped onto each other, mixing as our saliva and bodies and moans did.

I wasn't planning to sweat this much tonight, but it was okay.

A male voice called out her name. We both adjusted our clothing and got up, leaving the abandoned building for the alley. The man she was with looked around for her. Once he saw her, he stopped and waited.

She grumbled. I asked if she was alright. She turned me so I was visible to him and kissed me one last time. She drew it out for a while, until she broke away and whispered to me: "It sucks, going back to him. I hope I'll see you again sometime."

She left and walked alongside the man. Weirdly, I expected him to look more devastated at what he saw, and I'm presuming he also caught a glance at the slick on my thigh. I decided that I needed a drink and headed back inside, still fixated on her round breasts and her jasmine scent.