I had told him ‘No’ more times than I could count. Maybe the music was too loud, he couldn’t hear my protests but relished each breathy moan of mine that he caught against his cheek. Maybe he mistook my attempts to pull away as a game of sorts, though why does he grip my wrists so hard and shackle my hands behind me with his fists. In less than five minutes in this dance hall and I’ve already caught his attention. He’s pulled me against his firm body, built and tight from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes. His muscles flex against me as a tanned rogue hand travels across my own taut physique. My abs draw tight as his fingers slip beneath the hem of my white tank to graze the smooth skin beneath. Daisy blooms to life, blistering with heat, and paws at this man’s chest, tenatively catching the lip of his pants fitted snug around his waist. He’s noticed the change, resistance bleeding into submission between the palms of his hands. My fists grip tighter, my nails dig deeper, my voice no longer drowns in the raucous of the crowd yet laces like rythmic ribbons across the lobe of his ear and amplifies behind his eyes. Our bodies rock to the rythm of the song, my ass grazing against his thigh until he drops his hands to grip my hips, pulling them down hard against his lap. My mind seems useless now, my body a mere ragdoll caught between the jaws of a marauding canine, and Daisy…transfixed by the firm, solid bulk pressing against the back of my thighs. He’s crooning against my ear and dragging his teeth against the searing flesh just beneath my jaw line. Things he wants to do to me. Promises. I won’t be sorry. He’s had enough, now. He eyes my beer, dry as a bone, and claps a prisoning hand over my wrist half dragging me through the Red River Dance Hall. Daisy is at his heels, skipping along behind him, though I’m stumbling through the thickening crowd. Some eyes are following me, more than I would like, as I near the exit and extend my wrist toward the doorman balanced on his stool, his eyes cast down on me in judgement as he slaps the stamp against my skin. I try to keep up in the parking lot, my legs seeming to melt beneath me as he bounds across the gravel. While Daisy stands tall and pulls her shoulders back, I’m halfway to my knees begging this man to not do all those leud acts to me. I tell him it’s mother nature stopping me, that time of the month. He whips around, a frigid icy aire replacing the heat behind his eyes, “I have to fuck you. You can’t stop me. I’ll fuck you in the ass.” Though she would love nothing more than to see my frame bent across the middle seat of his chevy, my ass in the air and a scream muffled against this man’s hand, Daisy forces my head back to look him square in the eyes, a sharp and steely grin set across my lips, “I’ll give you a blow job. You’re not getting anything else from me. Believe me, you won’t regret it…This ain’t my first rodeo.” As I was ushered into the truck I felt my heart drop into the pit of my stomach and the silent hollow left in it’s place scared the ever-lovin’ shit out of me. I felt Daisy abandoning her flames, instead preparing to fight if necessary. He started the truck and we quickly began to argue about where to go. I didn’t want to go anywhere…the parking lot was fine! He wanted to go down the road a little ways but that only tore a larger whole in my stomach. After several minutes of bickering he finally parked it further down a ways in a part of the parking lot with less traffic. Daisy coaxed my nerves and eased my trembling hands, following the directions of the stranger in the driver’s seat and performing when I was unable to. As soon as my pants were pushed far enough over my legs, I reached over to his seat only to be shackled yet again by those fists. His mouth came down close to mine and whispered against the nape of my neck, “No, not yet…I want to taste you first.” The next ten minutes were pure ectsasy as he nibbled, caressed and feasted on my neck, breasts, and lips. His hands were everywhere at once, strong and firm yet at the same time painfully soft. For the first time Daisy didn’t have to direct or lead in any fashion, as it was his hands with a fistful of my hair that guided me, willed me to bend to his needs with a sharp tug in any number of directions. When it was finally my turn, and he relaxed back in his seat, it was Daisy who rescued me and took that vulgar thing into my mouth. And it wasn’t all that different from Buck’s, or Clint’s even. It wasn’t the act that repulsed me at all, as I have began to enjoy the control of having a man’s proverbial ‘manhood’ between two rows of very sharp and cunning teeth. It was the notion that I had made the awful mistake and was allowed to be seduced by a pseudo-cowboy in an Ed Hardy tshirt. Upon returning to the dance hall I made the vow to forget what just happened…to enjoy my night out and dance with multiple guys. In less that 2 minutes I was approached by another man, this one more timid and appealing in the way he solicited a two-step. We made conversation while dancing, inbetween spins, and with a casual nod and a gracious smile we parted. Daisy enjoyed the dancing for her own reasons: the tender kiss two palms share with one another, the reaching of fingers, the rule of “never let go of my hand” , the occasional graze of our thighs. I was asked to dance by another man shortly after while standing at the bar about to request my drink. He bought me my beer of course then led me out to the dance floor. Dancing with him was so fluid and I followed his instructions carefully: angling my boots toward him, never looking down, carrying on a conversation or singing to the song hovering in the smoky air above us. When the dance floor broke into a macarana, I was relieved to be able to relax and just allow my body to move in the familiar motions. Immediately following the song and as I made my way off the dance floor, a taller, thicker cowboy stepped in my path. He told me I looked familiar and introduced himself…maybe he had seen my ass pressed against the window of that chevy outside…but asked me to dance, a slow half-shuffle. His hands were so much more larger than mine and I heard him chuckle when I wrapped my hand around one of his large fingers. He pulled me closer to him still. I was amazed how close I could dance without fumbling over his boots. When the song concluded I was deeply depressed, until he pulled me closer. I turned a bold gaze to him and whispered against his cheek, “What was your name again?” and when he answered I replied quickly, “I only ask because it’s a name worth remembering.” He gave me a genuine, surprised smile and thanked me before we left eachother…but later that night I was drawn to him again. I was getting raunchy on the dance floor with the same guy who taught me how to dance the jitterbug and the promenade when he kept catching my eyes drift over a taller, thicker figure off to the side. The thinner man noticed my interest and headed off the floor while I crooked a finger toward the taller man to summon him over…a motion Daisy was rather fond of. She enjoyed the power that a come-hither smile and a hooked finger had over a man. Once he got close enough I slid my hands slowly over his lean, muscular thighs, eliciting a rugged moan from that crooked grin. In that casual, southern drawl that sends me to my knees he bends low to whisper, “Girl, you’re crazy,” and that simple phrase sent a shiver of pleasure racing down my spine to collect in that heated chasm tucked beneath my belt buckle. It felt as if we were grinding for hours, the low, intoxicating thump of the music threading itself around our hips, tethering both of us together. I felt his arms snake around my waist, his hands clutching at my thighs and crawling upwards to grip the portion of my waist where the hipbone juts out just slightly to throw an elusive, sleek curve onto my otherwise pin straight frame. The back of one large hand brushed the underside of my breast and made me jump, his breathy laugh against my hair stirring me from my reverie. I locked eyes with several men standing around us, taking in my disheveled hair, the sweat rolling in bittersweet rivlets down my neck. That cocky, brash girl inside my body grinned and forced my head back against the man’s broad shoulder, his fingers drumming against the inside of my leg. He could hear me pant, now, against his neck, and in one swift motion he gripped me by the hips and turned me forcibly to face him, his mouth smothering mine. I saw sparks fly behind my eyelids and my body melted closer to his. Using both our bodies, pressed together, to shield the views from onlookers, he wedged a hand inbetween my beltbuckle and my abdomen. My breath hitched in my throat and I clasped desperately at his neck, pulling him harder against my mouth. Why couldn’t it have been him in the chevy?! This big, broad cowboy? His deft fingers searched deep beneath my denim. When he was unable to press his fingers further, he pulled his hand out, grabbed my belt buckle and pulled it up firmly till the seam of my jeans rode roughly against my clit, which he intensified by forcing me to grind harder against his thigh. I pressed my face against his chest and gasped, tried to muffle a soft cry. His broad arm pinned me against him as he sought my lips again. As the song concluded I forced myself to take a step back, assess the damage…my knees grew dangerously weak as I looked at him, his delicious, sculpted frame, those tight wranglers hugging every perfect nook and cranny, especially the bulge forming across his lap. I wanted to take him back outside. I wanted to taste him and feel him against my tongue,but my already ravaged throat screamed with searing pain at just the thought. ” I have to go…I’m sorry…If I don’t go I’ll get in way too much trouble with you…Not tonight.” After what seemed like several minutes of him pleading, asking for numbers, any possible way to not let this end like this, he finally settled for several more minutes of hard, passionate kisses. I pulled away from him and walked quickly out of the club before I could be approached by anyone else, especially Ed Hardy. I would have run had my feet let me, and I could hear a faint cry from the doors as I left, it was one of the guys, calling out for me. No. Keep walking. Your truck is in the other direction but don’t turn around now. Keep walking.
I peeled out of the parking lot, convinced someone would be following me. Tears streamed down my face as a I drove home. No matter what I did, this fire would not extinguish. It continued to smolder.
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