"Why don’t you just crash here for the night?" Alex asked.
It was late, we had been drinking, and a long bike ride in the rain didn’t hold much appeal. “Okay, I’ll take you up on that,” I replied.
Alex disappeared into her bedroom, and I stood looking at the tiny couch in the living room, wondering where I would sleep. She emerged with a sheepish expression. “Hey, so, I don’t have any extra blankets. Do you mind if we share my bed? It’s big.”
I told her I didn’t mind, and went off to use the bathroom. A few minutes later, when I stepped into her bedroom, I felt a bit like an intruder. Alex was sitting up in bed, her face illuminated by the glow of her phone, her long dark hair pulled up into a loose bun atop her head. She was wearing a soft gray tank top, which draped plainly over her breasts, her nipples showing through conspicuously. She looked up at me with a warm smile that felt like the invitation I needed, and patted the other side of the bed. I stepped out of my jeans and slid into bed in my t-shirt and boxers.
"Michael just texted and said he might crash here tonight as well," Alex said. Michael was her boyfriend. "Don’t worry, I told him you’re here, and he doesn’t care."
We talked for a bit, and she turned out the light. I made myself comfortable in Alex’s bed, which wasn’t quite as big as she had suggested. But I enjoyed the warmth of our proximity, and drifted quickly into sleep.
The room has a low ceiling and is packed to the doors with people. Loud, warm soul music sits on top of everything. Coming in from the autumn night chill outside, this place feels like a hot cave. I weave my way toward the dancefloor proper, and as I get closer, the young bodies grow increasingly animated; electricity coming from the speakers, arms and legs jump-started. Among these bodies, I find a place.
I notice a girl near me, dancing with an easy flower-child detachment. She’s beautiful in simple jeans and a t-shirt, no ornamentation; just a person. We share a moment of eye contact, and our bodies subtly orient themselves to one another. A delicate thread of electricity twines its way around her waist and around mine, and we are slowly drawn in. This is how it happens, I suppose, two people go from dancing to dancing together.
Last week a lover from a long time ago gave me a call. I hadn’t seen her in three years or so, but we quickly realized we were both back home at the same time for the first time since then. Hearing her voice filled me with a nostalgia that had the strength and clarity of moonshine. So there we were, both taken slightly aback by the coincidence and rush of memories. Truth be told, I had thought of her when I first got into town, idly wondering where she was living, how she’s been. I considered contacting her, but before I had made up my mind, here she was on the phone.
[Inspired by my conversation with Jenna, I’ve been fantasizing a lot about audiences lately. Following is a series of brief tableaux.]
I find myself standing in my friends’ living room. The door to the upstairs opens, and in walk Leah, Cecilia, and Gina. The three girls are roommates, and usually very animated, but today they are silent, smiling sweetly at me. Cecilia, the quietest of the three, steps forward and asks me if I’d like them to undress? Yes, I say. You first, she says with just a hint of a smile.
I step out of my clothes, and the three girls look up and down my body, but their expressions don’t give much away. Leah steps forward first, tall and lithe. She pulls her tank top up over her head and wriggles out of her tight jeans. She doesn’t break eye contact as she steps out of her panties. Her breasts are small and pert, capped with perfectly conical, tan nipples. Her torso is long and toned, giving way to beautifully wide hips, followed by long, strong legs. She raises her eyebrows as my eyes find their way back up to hers.
Gina takes her turn next. She’s much shorter and more solidly built than Leah, but in equally good shape. Her sun dress is on the floor in an instant, but she struggles for a moment to unclasp her bra behind her back. Once she has slid her panties off, I take in her body. Her neck catches my attention first, astoundingly graceful. Her breasts are much larger than Leah’s, standing out from her body in brash defiance of gravity. Her hips are also wide, and her backside a veritable sculpture unto itself. She has the butt of a supple renaissance nymph.