Just One Night: Part 2 by Elle Casey

getting into. Her. Her lovely, hot, slippery wet body that I have not been able to forget, try as I may, try as I might.
    I keep staring at her hands. It’s not just the pale, silky softness that I see and remember that draws my attention. It’s the image my brain has conjured of those same lovely, delicate fingers wrapped around my cock. I would love to see that with her mouth on the tip, my cock moving in and out as my ballsack seizes up in ecstasy.
    Yes, it’s true, I’m afraid to admit it, but every man fantasizes about fellatio, even when the girl he’s imagining it with is the kind that can refuse to do it and never hear a word about it, and even when the man who’s doing the fantasizing should be above such things.
    “Hello? Anyone in there?”
    She’s caught me lost in fellatio-land. A quick recovery is my only hope. Luckily, a few words from her recent conversation have filtered into my brain. “Right. You were saying you like to dance.”
    She giggles. “No, I wasn’t. I was saying that when we go to the club, don’t expect me to dance.”
    “Not even one dance?” I do my best imitation of a pout. My brother catches me and frowns in confusion, so I immediately cease that ridiculousness. I don’t know what came over me.
    “They don’t exactly do waltzing at club Monster or whatever it’s called.”
    “My repertoire is not limited to the waltz, I’ll have you know. I can cut a rug with the best of them.”
    “Cut a rug? Now you’re scaring me.”
    I rest my fork against my plate and turn to face her. “Did I steer you wrong the last time we danced?”
    It takes her so long to answer I’m forced to lift an eyebrow.
    Her smile is sad. “No. You didn’t steer me wrong.”
    I want to reach out and touch her chin, to tell her there’s no reason to look so lost. But I don’t because we’re at a dinner table and there are too many people here who would not understand that I’m merely being friendly. “Well then, you can put your trust in me.”
    “I do trust you. So far you’ve done an excellent job of living up to your agreements.”
    “And why do I get the feeling that you’ve just insulted me?” Something is happening here, but I’m not sure what it is.
    “No, not at all. You’re honest and straightforward. You don’t play games.”
    “I’ve no time for games.”
    “Me neither.”
    “Then you and I suit.” I smile. “Are you ready for dinner?” I look over her shoulder at the waiter standing behind her.
    She moves to the side so he can access her plate and replace it with another that has a full meal on it.
    “What’s this?” she asks.
    “Salmon with champagne cream sauce,” the waiter responds.
    She looks at me at the same time as I look at her.
    “Should I worry about an allergic reaction and an emergency trip to the dry cleaners?” I ask, smiling as the memory of her champagne disaster comes to mind.
    “I sure hope not.” She lifts her fork and brings it to the plate.
    I miss her first bite as I’m drawn into a conversation about investments in wine by Malcolm. I can feel Jennifer’s leg up against mine, which makes me think that she’s opened her legs for me in an effort to feel me and maybe even dream of me being inside her. The words our host is saying go in one ear and directly out of the other. I believe I’m nodding in all the right places, but it’s about all I can do to coordinate my hand and mouth to eat. I’m not tasting a single thing on my plate even though I am consuming it all.
    “So you’ll come by and view our latest collection?” Malcolm asks.
    “Yes, we will,” says Edward. “Just name the date and time.”
    I clear my throat to try and focus my energies. Edward is committing us to something that sounds like a bad idea. “Actually, it would be better if you contacted my assistant and cleared it with my calendar.”
    Edward shakes his head. “Never fails.”
    I’m not interested in airing our dirty laundry here at this table of