You’re standing in the hotel’s ballroom awaiting your date. You watch the other invitees mingle, groups of people forming and dissolving in a practiced social dance you’ve seen play out too many times. You notice not a few pairs of eyes linger on you just a little too long as you stand there alone in your backless gown.
Lost in your own thoughts, you fail to notice him approach. But your mind snaps back to the moment as you feel the soft touch of the back of his fingers on your upper back.
You keep your gaze ahead. Your eyes are open but your mind isn’t looking through them, all its concentration on the hand slowly tracing the contours of your back. His touch, while electrifying your skin, is not out of place and the party continues around you.
The stranger behind you, the man touching you in front of everyone, making your breath quicken - you know it’s him but you don’t want to know. You keep your gaze ahead, not allowing the thrill of the moment to escape.
As his finger finally reaches the draping in your gown, he steps closer and slides his hands over your waist. You feel his breath on your shoulder, on the little curls of hair behind your ear. He moves closer, sliding a hand around your waist and under your ribs. You feel the length of his body against yours.
Your frozen in his touch. His breath move across your shoulder to your neck, his lips grazing the finest of hairs on your skin.
In part of your mind, the room vanishes but in another part, you see others looking at you, the look of lust painted across your face for all to see. The air around you is charged with the expectancy of his intentions.
His breath leaves a trail of longing across your neck as it comes up to your ear. In the dance of the warm most breath in your ear, you hear him say, "go to your room". Your breathing stops. "Remove your panties". You gasp. "Face the window and wait for me."