At the end of the class, Ariane stayed behind a little to talk to the instructor, her eyes casually wandering to where Darren had been standing earlier. He wasn’t there. She started to breathe a sigh of relief until she saw Darren striding purposefully towards her and the instructor. Catching her breath, she turned to say something smart to him when he kissed the instructor gently on the cheek. Turning back to her, he said, “You made it out. Great”. The instructor laughed. “You know her too, Darren? Who don’t you know?” Darren chuckled. “This is my new Wii buddy from earlier. Ariane, right?” Ariane nodded, puzzled. As she opened her mouth to say something else, Darren said, “Ariane, this is Daria, my twin sister, and owner of this dance school”. Ariane’s mouth dropped open. Thanking Daria for the class and wishing Darren well, she bid them both so long and ran out before she could catch herself saying anything else.
Weeks went by and Ariane would see Darren off and on, occasionally in Target, sometimes when she was out and about, but mostly hanging around at the dance school, which had become somewhat of a release for her once a week after work. One particular night, she stayed after class, after all her fellow classmates were gone, to work out a little by herself and think. In the adjacent dance room, she heard R. Kelly’s reggae infused R&B song playing, the slow dancehall inspired rhythm tickling the adjoining walls. Curious, she walked over slowly, wondering what new moves Daria was cooking up on the other side.
What she saw surprised her.
Darren, in loose navy blue sweats, Timberlands, and a white wife beater, was sliding across the floor, combining street dancing with a smooth Caribbean whine, his pelvis thrusting the floor and then up again into this sort of spin, she might call it…either way, she was amazed. Darren’s fluid movements spoke of a seasoned dancer with years of experience. Ariane watched in awe at every created movement, every sensual piece of choreography perfectly staged. It was…so…sexy. She couldn’t stop watching. Her body moved in tune to the music almost involuntarily. Before she knew it, she had found her way inside the steamy dance studio, her hips moving independently of her body, her steps matching Darren’s as if in a trance. Darren looked up and saw Ariane there, her pecan sandie skin glistening in the studio lights, her purple leggings a second skin, her matching sports bra barely covering her mounds.
They assessed each other’s movements silently. Never had sweat seemed so erotic.
Darren opened his mouth to speak first. Ariane shook her head. Emboldened, she walked up to him, her hips swaying in time to the music. Standing face to face with him, she wet her lips, and, as if in slow motion, leaned in and licked Darren’s collarbone gently, so gently that had it not been for Darren’s narrowing eyes, one might not have realized what happened. Reaching the base of his neck, she lightly bit him and then kissed him there before stepping back, tenderly pulling on the skin there, . Darren grabbed the waistband of her pants and, pulling her back towards him, touched the base of her lips with his and held it there, his eyes glancing down her face, her eyes closed. Pulling away, he backed up a little, leaving Ariane confused. His voice was hoarse as he said, “Your turn”.
Their movements became their own lambada, each matched dance step its own version of foreplay. Darren's steps were a sensual tease for Ariane, who followed closely. During the moments their bodies would connect, their eyes locked and held. Their hands betrayed their minds - as Ariane trailed behind Darren, she allowed her hands to trail across Darren's broad, muscular back. "Damn", she muttered to herself. He was hiding a lot underneath those suits. Darren paused and turned quickly, his chest to hers, their chocolate and caramel sweat mingling. The two stood there, assessing each other, as Jodeci sang about what they wanted to do.The decision became apparent in Darren's eyes as he backed up slowly, his eyes still locked on hers. Ariane felt more naked and exposed from his stare than she ever had on anyone's pole. Darren lifted his now soaked wifebeater off and tossed it to the ground as Ariane watched, her eyes widening slightly. The tattoo of a breakdancing music scale peered back at her from his left bicep. She found herself drawn to it - to him...
To be continued...
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