let the music play…

She leant back, resting her head in his lap. He ran his fingers through her hair. It was late, but the bar was still busy and the band was on form. Couples danced to the deep throaty jazz, New Orleans alive and well in the dingy London club.

Slowly, she raised her eyes to his, expecting him to be watching the musicians, but his eyes burned into her hers with a force that woke up the fire in her soul.

She raised one eyebrow, their signal, and his hand moved softly around her jaw, to her shoulder. No one was looking, but even if they were -

The corner of her lip twitched, and she nodded, just once. She wriggled until she was practically sitting up, but still nestled into his body, and as she moved, she hitched up her skirts, just enough. 

He was ready.

Sliding his fingers under her full skirt, he moved his hand up her leg. She shivered, feeling the flush rise in her face. A shout came from the dance floor – one of their friends. She raised her hand to wave and as she did, he slid his hand up higher, right to the top of her thighs.

She breathed in sharply, but if the friend noticed what they were doing, she said nothing, smiled, and turned away in her dance.

The lights flickered over the moving couples but as as he worked his fingers under her lace panties, she felt her eyes drifting, unfocussed. The heat, the music, the sheer, wonderful buzz of the little place, all spun around her as he found her clit.

She leaned her head back against his shoulder.

He looked out, over the crowd. She was wet – soaking, burning, wonderfully wet. He pushed two fingers inside her and she moved to take him in. A waiter came by the next table, picking up the discarded glasses, but she didn’t even open her eyes.

The waiter looked over and caught the man's eye, but he didn’t stop. Her face flushed again, her mouth opening, her closed eyelids fluttering as she tightened around his fingers. The waiter went to speak to them, to say something, but then she let out a low moan and arched her back, lost in the ripples of pleasure.

When she opened her eyes, the waiter was standing over them, their fire burning in his eyes.