"I think I may be" she replied " my husband hates parties, so he's headed off home, I'm just starting to enjoy myself though. Fancy a dance?" . "sound... great" I answered. "I saw you looking at me" she said, "you know in that way that says I fancy you". "That's because I do" I said. We danced, both slightly drunk and I could feel her warm body swaying and rocking next to me. I wanted her to be doing that on top of me, naked, her beautiful bronzed skin glowing softly in the moonlight, and her. I appreciate many men want me, but most are no match for me, and even though they may think they are, they will never be able to handle me. I may have the reputation of a slut, but I am slut only slut to men who deserve one, and only their slut. His picture all but knocked me over. His lips and hair, his neck and eyes, his skin all bespoke sensual pleasures, and joy. His eyes showed kindness and a starkness, a hope that barely survived, a fire raged with in this man, and his bio on the service. More

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