But he'd seen her dance. Even at a place withmellower, slower music, there was always an air of the "hot girl in front of the stage trying to get laid...bythe guitarist" to her movement. And in a revealing satin blouse and swirling satin skirt? God help them ifthey played anything even resembling swing jazz, and got those eye-catching breasts started on astruggle to escape through the flimsy silken walls that imprisoned them.No, he wasn't afraid of being seem dancing with an older woman, he was. I barely moved an inch when he shoved me back up against the wall with his body. His hands hot on my skin as he reached between my legs to cup my mound. I knew I was dripping; I could feel it down my thighs. I heard his deep chuckle, and he bit my shoulder again, “Someone is having more fun than she’s letting on.” He pinched my clit before rubbing it with his fore and middle fingers, making me gasp and unconsciously lean into his touch.He noticed the change in my breathing, “Starting to be. More

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