Party in his pants

I sense his eyes on me -- nearly in me -- and feel the tight strip of cotton between my legs growing damp. I know he can see the plump contours of my pussy and the blonde hair spilling out of the thong and wonder if he’s one of those guys that prefers the shaved, pre-pubescent look.

+ + +

I first noticed him interacting with a group of about five near the dance floor. A young woman with big hair, big boobs and a big boozy laugh planted a kiss on his cheek and handed him a flat, square package tied with festive, red curly-ribbon. I guess that makes him a Gemini… witty and inquisitive, youthful and lively. Impatient. Changeable.

She did this right before falling off her impossibly-high heels, taking him and their drinks down with her. This caused a great deal of hilarity among the group and righteous indignation among the dancers closest to the spectacle.

Not that there was any reason to care, but I found myself hoping he wasn’t a stupid frat-boy type… merely a hapless party victim. I guess I was attracted to his long limbs and his easy smile… not to mention the perceptible bulge in his jeans.

Standing up, the front of his shirt drenched in alcohol, his eyes met mine. I raised my martini glass in a ‘toast’ gesture, winked and turned away.

As I rounded the bar I glanced back over my shoulder and saw him, as if on cue, extracting himself from the group, his eyes holding me within range.

I paused at the bottom of the long staircase until I knew he could see me and then began a slow assent.

+ + +

I sense his eyes on me -- nearly in me -- and feel the tight strip of cotton between my legs growing damp. I know he can see the plump contours of my pussy and the blonde hair spilling out of the thong and wonder if he’s one of those guys that prefers the shaved, pre-pubescent look.

I reach the top of the stairs and will myself to dissolve mysteriously into the crowd. Let’s see how inquisitive and playful this jolly-good Gemini really is.

I’ve sandwiched myself between two couples – one making out; the other getting acquainted by taking turns yelling into each others ears. I can see him but he’s yet to spot me.

He starts to head for the VIP lounge, but then turns, instead, in my direction.

‘Getting warmer.’

Eyes straight ahead –- perhaps mistaking the back of some other woman’s head for mine -- he walks right by me. When he’s passed I step behind him and follow closely for several feet. I can smell his cologne and sweat -- which trumps the smell of beer and gin on his shirt -- and my pussy swells as if receiving the signal. When he gets stopped in a traffic jam of horny humans, I put my mouth to his ear.

“Happy birthday. I’ve got a pink cupcake for you."