“You’re sure you would be okay with this,” I asked, wanting to be certain that after all this would be said and done we would both still be fine.

“More than okay,” he said with a grin, “You?”

I thought for a minute, thinking about how I would feel after I had done this. I was being given permission by him to be with another man, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t more than a little intimidating to me, more than a little scary. I was pretty sure that I would have fun, but I wasn’t one hundred percent about this. Still I was close enough to certain, so trying to muster up as much steadiness to my voice as possible I told him, “Yes.”

He stood, quickly, and crossed the room to the door. Opening it both the owner and my husband crossed back into the centre of the room. I stood to meet them, my eyes darting nervously between the two of them. My mouth felt dry and I had butterflies in my stomach and I was honestly so on edge that I think if someone closed a book too fast at that point I would probably die of fright.

“We’ll do it,” my husband said, his voice serious, “But I want to stay in the room just to make sure nothing goes too far.”

The owner grinned and I swear there was something in his smile that made me think he knew exactly what was going on, exactly what my husband’s true motivations were.

“Of course,” he said, gesturing to one of the chairs.

My husband took his seat and quietly sipped his drink while he watched us.

I was standing in the middle of the room, the owner facing me and looking me up and down. He had a possessive look to him, like it was Christmas morning and he already knew what his gift was but was looking forward to unwrapping it anyways. He slowly crossed the room, and his steps seemed to echo like the footfalls of a giant. He came to within arms length of me, pockets in his hands.

Removing one hand I saw that he had a small remote in it. He clicked a button and the music of the club below grew louder. It came from speakers hidden in the room, but rather then the pounding and overwhelming sound you heard on the dance floor this was slightly muted, much easier to still hear the sounds of the room around you.

It had a good beat to it, and I felt myself start to unconsciously sway to the music while a shy smile lit up my face. I danced for him and he watched me move and twirl in front of him. His eyes were on me, moving slowly up and down my body and seeing the curves highlighted by this little black dress. He had this little grin on him that I couldn’t help but blush at, the way he looked at me drew me in. He couldn’t look away and neither could I.

He stepped up to me and I swayed into his arms, his hands touching lightly on my waist as he ducked his head down and kissed me lightly on the neck. Then he bent his head up and whispered in my ear, “I like it when you dance for me.”

I giggled lightly and swayed in his arms, continuing to move to the music. To move for him and with him. We spun slowly in the room, moving around each other as our hands traced patterns up and down each others sides. We never crossed any lines, everywhere we touched it was strictly PG and yet somehow the sensation of his hands on my body left trails of fire in their wake. I was burning up, my heart thudding in my chest pounding out a need that was evident to anyone watching us.

I wanted him and he wanted me.