Solitaire came out of the bathroom naked. She liked to air dry without a towel to let the oils soak into her skin. Her body was shiny, it was sexy to see. Something I never get used to. “Was that Bart you were talking to?” She asked. “Yea, just making sure on when we should be there.” She sat down at her vanity. Grabbing her blow dryer she dried her hair. In the reflection of the mirror she stared at me with a smile, her eyes were glazed. She was ready for that monster dick. Solitaire decided to wear an easy to take off sun dress, and a pair of black high heels. On the drive over, the scent of her oiled skin filled the car. We talked about causal things noting sexual, but the sexual charge was there. Both of us were excited for this. The GPS alerted me that we were two miles from our destination. Solitaire put her hand on top of mine. She was nervous. I pulledover. “You ok?” I asked her. She looked out the window, then quickly over to me. Her hand was shaking.“What if it hurts?” She. Trees. Parks. Anything to escape the room. To delay what I hoped was inevitable. To please him.I crept down from the pinnacle. Moment by moment somehow cooling the need inside me. Drifting away. Back to the masquerade ball. Seeing him on the sideline leaning against a pillar to the left of the dance floor, flute of champagne in hand. Watching. Seemingly just me.Every time I looked his way as I twirled and stepped to the rhythm, he was following my every move. I felt singled out. In a spotlight. Special. Like the imperfections that usually define me didn’t exist or somehow didn’t matter to him. The rest of the world just fell away as I danced with men holding me, but not for them. It made me excited. So very excited. I wanted him to want me.It was almost unfathomable but I wished the feeling would never end. Wanted to perform for the stranger until he broke down. Took me. Claimed me. And the weirdest thing? Far from being in a sexual rut at home, I was stable. Happy. Bringing in.
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