We danced all night. It was the best kind of escape from a busy week and the stressors of life. I felt like I was learning, like I could learn more with him. And since dance is one of the most important things in my life, it was an amazing feeling to have that connection. Especially with a guy who could dance like Lorenzo. He was smooth, passionate, connected and in the moment. In between songs we laughed and talked. And underneath the table, we touched. His knee against mine. His hand tapping my leg whenever he wanted my attention. I did the same, as well. The contact was something we hadn’t experienced before and I felt that wonderful drop in my stomach. Maybe this could be something?
It was a slow night at the club. Typically, this would have been a deal-breaker and I would have called the night, earlier. But this was not a typical night. Lorenzo and I had our own little slice of bachata heaven off to one side of the dance floor. In between songs, we sat close and talked about performance and partnering. He spoke my language and I loved it. And underneath the table, there was a different sort of communication. His hand began to linger longer and longer on my thigh.
We stayed until the club closed. And then took our dancing outside. Lorenzo had songs on his phone to show me and partnering work he wanted to try. The night was crisp. We were the only ones left at the back of the parking lot. The songs began to get slower, more sensual. Our bodies pressed together in the natural style of the dance. I wasn’t really comprehending the moment. Which is why when he kissed me, I did not quite expect it.
Let me try to find the words for this kiss.
Slow, needing, expert, seductive.
Where Armando kissed with a heady passion, Lorenzo took his time to explore my lips, my tongue. It was long and something to fall into.
We parted.
I looked up into his brown eyes.
“We should probably talk,” I said with a coy smile.
“Yea,” he laughed.
I told him about my open marriage. He said he sort of figured. And that was it.
OKAY. Timeout. PSA time, my dear readers.
One thing I absolutely should have done and the only thing I regretted about the moment was not being more specific about what open marriage means to me. See my letter to potential stallions for reference. While I am not opposed to hook-ups, I am much more poly than hotwife, especially when it comes to people I have known. This is important later in the Lorenzo story.
For now, back to the fun times!
He had me pushed back against his car. His hand slid up my shirt. I felt his fingertips glide up my side and then up under my bra as our tongues connected with more building passion. His touch was gentle, experienced.
“You’ve found my weakness,” I moaned against his lips as he played with my nipple.
Pressed so close, I could feel him through his pants. Hard. Grinding against me. Never one to shy away from a challenge, I opened my legs and rocked my hips slightly to tease him. We kissed. Our bodies melted together. And then I felt him begin to sway. His other arm wrapped about my waist and he took me with him in this other kind of partnering. That mix of sexual passion and dance; it’s something I will never forget.
Eventually, we parted. He walked me to my car, kissed me one last time. We promised to see each other, again.
It was a perfect evening. A night straight out of an erotic novel that I had just lived. What an amazing life. I couldn’t wait to tell my husband.