Foreplay

'It's a fine line between yes and no', she thought.

"Fuck this!"

She jumped up, making a bee-line for the bedroom, and started rummaging through her clothes for some serious dancing gear. Something that felt fine. Nice and fine. Something that looked GOOD.

All week it'd been nothing but work and discipline. Boredom and frustration. No relief from the stoic patience that fucked with her head and wasted her time. Precious time that didn't come back.

Long over the knee socks. Yep! She sat and pulled them up, with appropriate feminine ritual. Pulled on a singlet, reviewing in the mirror. Yanked it off.

"Fuck!" She cursed her mood.

This was part of the process, this trying things on. Next, some kick arse boots and nothing much little panties.

"OK" She gazed at herself in the mirror. Her waist. Hips. Breasts. And touched the hair that peeked out the sides of the lacey panties. Pulled it gently. Looking. Thinking.

'Not that anyone's gonna see it,' she snarled, shaking her head and dislodging the thoughts. Pissed-off.

Fucking men. The one's that want you, you don't want. The one you want can't be bothered.

She could feel the panties on her skin and stood there surveying. Thinking still. In the end it was an old tight singlet with holes and rips, and a ragged kilt that won the lottery. 'Get fucked' clothes. Should be a label. Certainly not 'come here' clothes.

That thought brought a laugh. Thinking of her friend who wore 'look at my boobies' little nothings to pubs in a search for a soul-mate. She found one, too. Go figure.

But this WAS a come here look. That's what Johnny always said. She knew it too. 'Come here and she'll kick you in the balls,' he said. But definitely 'come here.'

Good.

She grabbed the keys, stuffed some money in her pocket and took off.

Irony was, this girl was all faithfulness, and hadn't strayed ONCE on her boy. But she danced like a wild person when this mood hit. He'd never seen that. Probably because they'd fuck and there'd be no need. But he was nowhere to be seen. And this gnawing need ate into her head and made her reckless.

It's a fine line between yes and no.

The bar was thumping when she sauntered in. Brooding and defiant, she pushed her way through and began dancing. No slow 'get a drink and watch the mood.' No. She just plunged right in. Looking at no-one. Let it all go.

She felt sexy, needy. Angry. This was foreplay. Excellent foreplay.

Johnny was watching her and that hadn't gone un-noticed. He leaned over to say something to the other man at the table and they nodded, watching. Watching her hips and looking at her legs where the socks were falling down a bit. She felt their gaze trickle. She saw it and was glad.

Foreplay.

Their eyes made her dancing more furious. John got up and moved over to her to join in. He moved close and was a damn fine groover, she thought. She could feel his desire and got closer. Not touching.

"Don't touch," she warned when he put his hand on her waist. The touch sent waves through her body but she turned her back and ignored him.

"I dreamt about you last night," he spoke in her ear.

She turned back, smiling."Oh, yeah?"

She was still dancing close up to him, teasing. Almost a caress. Feeling free.

"OK," she began.. "tell me.."

He pointed his chin toward the table, touching her elbow, and began to go. She followed, Congo style, swaying her hips next to his arse. Not touching. He didn't see her dance behind him back to the table. Close.

Sitting, Johnny poured her a large glass of wine, and lifted his own in cheers. Thick, strong, red. She drank.

'Fuck!' As if she didn't feel reckless enough without the wine.

"You had on those socks you wear." He leaned to her and flicked the top of her fallen socks to illustrate. Fleetingly. She pulled them up without comment.

"And I had you tied to my bed with silk scarves... wrists, and ankles."

"Oh yeah...?"

She drank her wine, scanning the dance floor. Some people could really move. The music was... compelling. It was hard to sit still. It pulsed through her veins making her feel light and full of verve.

"What else was I wearing Johhny O?" She was still listening...

"Oh, you know, just what you'd think... You had on those panties you bought for when whatsisface came over."

"I'm wearing them now." She gave him that for free.

She'd seen him that day on the way home from shopping, and knew he'd be impressed. Johnny had never seen her in them, nor out of them for that matter. Never would though he'd try. But he'd watched her dance before. And he'd said things to her. They liked this game. Both of them.

"Hmmm?"

"That's it. Just socks and panties and silk scarves around your ankles.... and your wrists..."

"Did you fuck me?" she asked. Serious now. Looking into his flecked green eyes. Searching him out.

"What do YOU think", he replied, leaning back.

They both burst out laughing, and she jumped up, kissing him on the cheek, and took off back into the fray. Giving over to the pit. Foreplay alright.

Ages later, Johnny went and found her before leaving, to say goodbye.

"Sexy bitch" he whispered in her ear, holding her by the arm to bring her close enough to hear.

"Am not."

She kissed his other cheek and bade him 'sweet dreams Johnny O'. They laughed again and he left her dancing.

Hot and tired. Anger forgotton. The tension in her body not eased. Condensed. Refined. She decided to leave too. Still feeling a need. Still wanting flesh. She drove home, in the surreality of early morn.

"Damn!" she cursed, realising, too late.

She hadn't asked him...

in his dream...

was she face up...

or down?

February 18, 2003