A vignette I wrote a few months ago.  Don't steal it.The Dance The thrum of bass reverberates down to their bones, coaxing and encouraging. Piano gently punctuates as limbs float and entwine. Skin gliding on skin. Hands sliding over silk. Her fingers brush over the hairs on his arm as he holds her—the most precious entity ever to exist. Her body sinuous, gently undulating as the music carries her away. Away from the crowd of people, the heat, the sweat. She could no longer smell old cigarettes and spilled drinks. It was only the two of them. His scent mingling with hers as their bodies slid against one another. Her body undulates with the rhythm of the sensual music, her lush curves gracing along his front, awakening every sense. Where their bodies touch electricity caressed them, soft as velvet, sharp as knives. His hands caress her curves as he sways and flows to the beat, the willing supplicant to her exploration, her declaration. Her scent caresses him encouraging him to lean forward to smell her more fully. Nose gliding over the elegant curve of her neck, his lips barely brush her soft skin. Explosions fill her mind, her awareness pinpoints to that spot, her head tilting of its own volition, allowing deeper access. He kisses her there, at the base of her neck, lips gentle and firm. He kisses up the side of her neck, light and teasing, his tongue darting out here and there to sample her taste. Intoxicating. One of his hands splays across her front, thumb grazing the underside of her breast. The other hand at her shoulder, holding them both steady, braced on each other.   Her body shifts from sensuous curves to seductive undulations, her body snaking against his. Every slide side to side, hips curving up-over-down in a hypnotic wave. She was a seductress, a witch, a sorcerer, a purveyor of all things sensual and divine, delicious and addictive.   He knows that she is the director in this moment. She holds him fast, and he sinks into her. Running his hands from her shoulders down her sides. Feeling her curves, each of her movements pulls him along in her world.   With a change in the music, he gently turns her to face him, slowly dragging their sweat-damp clothes against each other. The tempo of the beat is faster now, elevating their heartbeats with it, with the touch of skin on skin. The heat rising sweat beads on their skin.   Their bodies push against each other, feeling each curve and angle. His hands shift down to her hips, pulling her close. Her arms snake up around his neck.   Eyes half-mast with passion, she looks at him with a smirk on her lips. She pulls him down, slowly, firmly. He gives readily to the pressure, her smile mirrored as he takes in her eyes, heady and powerful. His gaze shifts to her lips, full and lush. The kiss is soft at first. So soft. Gentle. Exploring with grazes. No one leading, no one following. Just two people, in this moment, holding fast to one another. Lips press, just barely. The soft tip of his tongue graces her top lip. She parts her lips and takes his bottom lip in her teeth. Applying pressure to control but not bring more than a little pain, she licks the lip still in her teeth before releasing it. Languid. He doesn’t allow them to part, not yet. The fires burn to life in his mind, his chest, his flesh. He deepens the kiss before pulling her to his chest. Allowing his lips to dance with hers, they make their own music amidst the pounding beat and gesticulating bodies.   His tongue runs along the edge of her lips, top then bottom, he pulls out of the kiss. Eyes burning, lids at half-mast. Shared breath.   His hand lightly traces a line down her arm, fingers entwining with hers. The side of his mouth lifts in a smirk filed with dark passion. Stepping back, he pulls her with him through the congestion of bodies.   Burning with need.   Out the door.   Into the darkness.