Dangerously In Love by Allison Hobbs

broke into a huge, appreciative grin and seemed instantly to forget whatever was going on in the kitchen that seemed to trouble him.
    “Hey, handsome. Havin’ fun?” Chanelle asked as she moistened her outlined and glossed full lips.
    “I am now.” He looked and gave a bashful smile. “You must be Sensation?”
    “That’s what they tell me,” she said sassily. She stared into his eyes; the shade of green reminded her of the pictures she had seen of the ocean in the Cayman Islands. His eyes were so pretty, she wondered if he was wearing contact lenses.
    Mandy’s next song came on—something by Hilary Duff. Though Chanelle was definitely not into white girl music, she found herself inexplicably locked into the bass line of the song.
    And another weird thing was happening to her. The sporadic movement of Brad’s Adam’s apple had her mesmerized. For some reason, Chanelle was intensely, yet pleasantly aware of everything! It was so weird, but in a good way.
    She was ready to start dancing. Hell, as good as she felt, she’d dance for free. That strange admission put an amused smile on her face. Poking out her chest and rotating her hips, she rubbed up against Brad. And for the second time, he blushed.
    Not being under the roving, ever-watchful glare of the bouncer at Lizzard’s, the attendees at the private bachelor party took many liberties with the dancers. Brad, smiling sheepishly like a shy little boy, was no exception. His naughty intentions became apparent when he suddenly thrust one hand beneath Chanelle’s gown and cupped a breast with his other hand.
    Chanelle gasped in surprise. Seemingly ambidextrous, Brad simultaneously squeezed her right butt cheek and her left tit. In the grip of some mystifying euphoria, she wasn’t resistant; she didn’t jerk away. Instead, she moved dreamily from side to side. With her eyes closed blissfully, Chanelle gave in to the enjoyable feeling of Brad’s self-assured hands.
    As unthinkable as it was, Chanelle, now enraptured, forgot about collecting tips. She concentrated completely on her own pleasure. Brad worked his hand under her bra and began to circle her nipple with an index finger. The friction of his fingertip was powerfully stimulating, causing her to utter a small moan.
    Taking that sound as a green light to proceed to uncharted territory, he slid his hand to the front of her thong, caressed her mons pubis through the fabric, and then boldly slipped his hand inside.
    He raked his fingers through the abundance of crinkly hair. The crackling sound of fingernails against pubic hair sounded melodic, sensual, and stirred her passion. Chanelle inched closer to Brad’s musical fingers and breathed out contentedly.
    “It’s your turn, Sensation,” Lexi called, breaking up the sexually charged moment.
    Chanelle was at first unable to tear away from Brad’s skillful fingers, but when she heard the first few bars of her theme song, she felt an overpowering urge to dance.
    “Be right back,” she assured Brad, and blew him a kiss.
    Welcoming her with whistles and a cacophony of whooping sounds, the male audience had become much more energized. Chanelle assumed the stiff jerks were finally feeling the effects of alcohol.
    Chanelle strutted to the front of the room. The moist stickiness between her legs made her very much aware of her sensuality; she felt eager to give a dazzling display of her erotic dance moves.
    With great pride, she watched the faces of her audience as she swiveled, undulated, and twisted to the pulsating rhythm. Unlike Mandy, Chanelle was not standing before them merely shaking her ass, fondling her breasts, and swinging her hair. No, she was giving the men something neither Mandy nor Lexi could give: uninhibited dancing from the soul of a sexy black woman.
    They gaped at her with awe as if she were some rare exotic creature they could only dream of capturing. Gazing at her audience with narrowed, seductive eyes, she lowered one thin strap of her