Luck (something from my archive)

Sometimes you leave with someone.  They are with you when you walk off the dance floor, with sweat dripping off your hair; they will throw their arm over your shoulders.  Both of you slick with sweat when you kiss, tasting only salt.

luckOccasionally they touch you on the dance floor, a fast caress down your back that you answer with a smile.  But you are not like the couples constantly together; you wander around alone, dancing when the music demands it, not when you have a partner.

As the night progresses they torment you with teasing touches, not to be fulfilled until emotion is spent on the music.

So you leave together, exhausted and exhilarated, with hot, sweaty, arms intertwined.  You pull closer when the cold night air hits you. The music fades into tinnitus, while conversation becomes teasing and erotic.

As the sun rises you have progressed form one dance to another, and you lay spent.  Tonight you wrap yourself around another, instead of just a blanket.  Your ears still ring from the music, and it alone echoes your heart.

Tomorrow there is only a quick kiss goodbye, as you rush to reality.  Both promising to call you later, but you know you won’t.

205 words

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