After dinner, they went back to the loungers on the screened-in verandah, with the remains of the bottle of good red wine. “More?” RJ asked, bottle poised.
“Sure, why not,” Janice smiled, holding out her glass. “I’ll go make coffee when this bottle is gone, and you can pour us some brandy.”
RJ shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m not in the mood for coffee, but if you want some, I can make it. And I prefer drinking red wine to the kick in the guts that your brandy usually gives me. Where on earth do you buy that stuff?”
“Friend of mine makes it,” Janice said casually. “Got his own still at his cottage in the country. It’s 101 proof.”
“Small wonder I felt kicked in the gut, then.” He became aware of soft, seductive South American music. After listening for a moment, he asked, “What’s the music?”
“A Brazilian guitarist, with a rhythm section backing him. It’s a new CD. The moment I heard it, I had to have it.”
RJ nodded. “Great music for dancing…” He waited a beat. “Wanna dance?” “Love to.” RJ got up with the agility of a jaguar, and Janice quickly followed.
They moved to the living room, kicked their sandals off and danced on the velvety carpet in their bare feet.
After a while, RJ realized that he was incredibly turned on. It struck him that Janice was clinging to him—she had to be aware of how he felt. This was quickly confirmed, when she whispered, “You’re as turned on as I am…” With those words, she lost her footing, RJ tried to pull her upright, but her feet got tangled with his, and they both slid to the carpet. Janice giggled, whispering, “RJ, I don’t think you should be driving in your condition…”
“In my condition…?”
“Mmhmm,” Janice muttered. “Let me make you more comfortable…” She slurred the last word slightly, and began to remove his muscle-shirt. The moment she had pushed it up far enough, she began to feast on his nipples, licking, sucking, tickling with her tongue. He began to laugh. “RJ, you taste so good…” she moaned, “but help me get this shirt off you.” RJ obligingly removed the offending garment, and began to tug her top up, sliding his hands underneath, cupping one of her spectacular breasts, rubbing his thumb over her already hard nipple. I’m glad she’s not wearing a bra… He bent his head, taking her nipple on his tongue, where it seemed to harden and lengthen, as if he had given it a life of its own. When he sucked harder, Janice moaned again, “Don’t stop, RJ. This feels so good…” She slid her hands to his hair, removing the ‘doo’ rag, and confining his pony-tail. Instantly, his golden hair cascaded around them, giving them an unusual kind of privacy to do as they wished with each other.
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