You Only Get One

The club was packed and sweaty. It was more than a little oppressive in the summer heat, but there was no chance now of nipping out for some fresh air: the sound tech had announced the band would be on in five minutes, and they didn't want to lose their spot. Mind you they'd been told the show would start in five minutes more than twenty minutes ago and that hadn't been the first time that announcement had been made. People were craning their necks at the stage, shifting impatiently on aching calves, a restive susurration was starting to swell. Every time a techie walked on stage to check something, the beginnings of a cheer formed before descending once more to disappointed murmurs.

But the couple in front of Niall didn't seem fazed by the delay at all. Despite the irritable gesticulations and muttered curses surrounding him, he couldn't stop staring. She seemed so relaxed, more relaxed than he'd ever seen her, and they were flirting wildly. In a way it was sweet, seeing his housemate so happy. He'd been dating this girl for four months and there was a definite spark between them. He always had a dopey grin on his face when she was around and there was always a glimmer in her eye that went out as soon as he left the room. Niall was happy for him; she was a nice girl - the sort you could introduce to your grandparents. A little quiet, maybe, but nice.

She seemed so reserved Niall had never really bothered to have any sort of in-depth conversation with her: he preferred girls who were more outgoing, who could give as good as they got no matter how dirty the conversation became. It wasn't that he thought she wouldn't be fun, it was just that he felt awkward around her, like he might offend her, like he wasn't quite up to scratch in the class-stakes. He generally didn't go out anywhere that had anything resembling a dress code, and his shoe collection comprised just one pair of trainers that he'd wear every day until they wore out and he was forced to buy another pair.

But tonight, in this atmosphere, there was something different about her. A glow. That glimmer in her eye seemed more suggestive. There was a flush to her cheeks and a self-awareness in her movements as she arced her arm to place it on his houemate's shoulder, flashed him an almost lascivious smile, ran her finger slowly down his back and then – yes, there it was! The arched eye brow that promised something ill-defined but unmistakably naughty. Niall smirked: if his housemate didn't get some tonight he might as well give up and become a monk.

She was dressed differently, too: he hadn't recognized her at first when she met them at the pub. That was probably something to do with it. Stick a girl in a tight dress and heels and she's instantly going to appear a little more sexual.

Though he wouldn't have expected that dress of her. She must have known how tight it would was when she bought it, he thought. And though it wasn't revealing as such, it showed off her ample cleavage beautifully while still leaving just the right amount to the imagination. The sort of dress that guaranteed any man looking at her for more than five minutes would be attempting to picture her naked.

She leaned in to laugh at another joke his housemate was cracking and Niall felt an unprecedented flash of envy. It wasn't the girl, he told himself, it was the fact that it had been far too long since someone had laughed with him that way. At best, he 'got on pretty well' with his girlfriends. At best, there were no arguments, and they enjoyed some of the same things. But really, at best, there should be something very, very good indeed. And he hadn't had that since his teens.

When she turned around and flashed him a smile it came as a surprise to feel a constriction in his throat. He noticed his palms grow sweaty and his heart begin thumping: he was acting like a clichéd smitten teenager. Mentally kicking himself and trying to blame the booze he attempted to return his attention to the stage which was cruelly, inevitably, still empty. His eyes, in their angst and boredom, ignored his brain and drifted back to the girl. It really was a very flattering dress. Plain black, nothing gaudy, but it clung to curves he hadn't realised she had. He'd only ever seen her in work clothes or pyjamas and they hadn't had quite the same effect on his libido. The heels she was wearing angled her body to show off a previously unfathomed pert little derriere. Heart-shaped, eminently squeezable and only an inch or so from his hand: if he were to accidently brush up against it....

He nearly dropped his beer when his housemate grabbed his arm. Hoping the dinginess of the venue would cover up the guilt etched across his face he risked making eye contact.

'Dude, how long 'til the band starts do you reckon?' Not the question Niall was expecting - which involved the words 'doing', 'you', 'are' and 'the fuck' - but he did his best to act cool.

. 'Dunno; that's the third time they've said five minutes, so we've probably got at least ten.'

'Reckon I've got time for a quick slash?'

'If you're quick, yeah.'

'Alright, hold my beer?'

And with that, Niall and the girl were left alone. She gave him the awkward smile that you give someone you barely know when you're suddenly left alone in a crowded room together, and he returned it in kind. Conversation would no doubt have flowed considerably smoother if his mind wasn't still half-full of images of her naked.

'Is there something on my dress?' she stood up on tiptoes to posture in his ear.

'What?' Probably not the snappiest rejoinder he could have come up with.

'You keep looking at the back of my dress; I was a bit worried there might be a stain or something.'

He laughed, embarrassed, as he waved a hopefully casual hand to convey... what, exactly? He had no idea. Bluff, that was all he could do.

'No it's, uh, there isn't. That's not why I was, um... I mean...' His face must have turned bright red by now, he thought, continuing his wild gestures, searching desperately for something coherent to say.

'So you were just staring at my arse?' At her words his hand stopped flailing in mid-air. But there it was, or so he dared to hope: a flicker of something, a spark. Something ill-defined but unmistakably naughty. No. No, no. He checked himself: just too much beer.

'I...' he laughed awkwardly, trying to find something to say. But his imagination was failing and so, feeling something bubbling up inside him, a no doubt misguided cockiness, he considered opting for the truth. After all he'd already been caught staring so what was there to lose? He let his mouth override his common sense and, with what he hoped was an endearingly cheeky smile and as much confidence as he could muster he blurted out, 'I was just wondering if you were wearing any underwear.' And now he wanted to die. He'd been right all along: she was definitely far too nice for that sort of talk. The ringing silence cut through the murmur of the crowd. How was he going to fix this?

'You were wondering if I was wearing any underwear.' Disapproval dripped from each syllable. He screwed his eyes shut and groped for an explanation, or an apology; anything would do.

Cool fingers circled his wrist, like she was trying to read his pulse.

'Can you keep a secret?' His eyes flew open and - with grin in tow - there it was, for real this time. A flash, a glimmer of something more. He nodded dumbly, what else could he do? 'I'm not wearing anything.'

The breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding rushed out of him. He risked a smile.

'Really?'

'You don't believe me?'

What was that tone in her voice? Was she angry? Niall half-tilted his head, the better to read her expression, and got as far as 'er...'

'Do you want to check for yourself?'

It was phrased like a challenge but it must have been a joke. A dare she knew he wouldn't go for, or even some sort of test? In the gloom of the packed hall he tried to read her face to gauge her intention when at the periphery of his vision he noticed the movement of her hands. It was slight, almost imperceptible, but she was slowly, unequivocally, inching the tight skirt higher and higher. She moved in close, as if to better hear his answer. She tilted her face and the soft skin brushed his cheek, her thighs brushing the back of his hand.

'Well, do you?'

His lust controlled his movements, his hand jerking forward like an automaton. He touched bare flesh: the tops of her thigh, the area uncovered by her hold-up stockings. She let out the tiniest of gasps and shifted closer to him. Her legs were slightly spread, allowing him inside and he moved his hand closer, emboldened by her response. Her pubic hair was trimmed closely, and as his fingers made contact he could feel she was already wet with desire. The lips of her cunt were soft, swollen and sticky and he felt the hard-on he'd been trying to ignore begin to throb uncomfortably. She pushed her breasts against his chest and the smell of her coconut shampoo filled his world: he was lost in this - there was nothing now except this moment, nothing except her. He inched a finger inside her sensitive opening and then slid his index finger along the length of her slit. He watched her face as his moistened fingers teased her clit out from under its hood. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open and there was a slight sheen of sweat on her upper lip. She was the very picture of appetence.

He placed a firm hand on her ass cheek and pulled her towards him, grinding his erection into her thigh as he slid his finger down once more to circle her hole. He imagined what it would feel like to push his cock between her lips, how she would look writhing and moaning on the bed beneath him as he fucked her. He pushed his finger in deeper and she gripped his side, her brow creasing in response. A low moan escaped from her, the vibrations of the small sound shuddering through them both. Niall felt his cock twitch as she pushed herself against him. He realised he'd genuinely never wanted anyone more than he wanted her right now, and he wanted to tell her so, to hear her say it back. His eyes never moving from her face he slid his finger out, sliding the length of it against her clit, and brought it up to the light. He looked at the moisture glistening on his digit and felt a surge of longing. He reached for her again but her back was already turned. The lights were going down and the crowd was bristling with excitement. He squeezed her waist and whispered in her ear:

'Let me touch you. Just once more.'

'No', she said without bothering to turn around. 'You only get one.'

Too late anyhow. His housemate pushed his way back through the throng. Niall held out the beer and gave the best excuse for a smile that he could muster and watched as the couple reformed, two magnets drawn together. His housemate said something to her and the girl leaned into him and laughed. Nothing had ever happened.