From the Other Side of My Bed

Prologue

My swanky black dress.
That one which slowly rises above my thighs and threatens to expose the most delicate part of my body. The one that hugs carefully, and tightly the silhouette of my figure, much insistently at the contour of my waist. The one which some twat spilled ciroc on while bumping into me at the halls.
Shrugging, my body moves toward the dance floor.

Rocking my hips to the sound of music, my arms swaying above my head, woodstock in my mind, I find myself delighted to find the bar a few feet away from where I dance. Mostly, because it was easy to find by the fluorescent red lightning located there.
I asked the bartender for bourbon with cherry coke. "Hold the ice,"
My bare shoulder leans against the brick wall of the place, just as my attention gets caught by a window nearby.
It's beautiful outside, with all the streetlights on and smoke coming out the drainers and out to the gloomy atmosphere of friday night. There's a few people outside, mostly walking by, or standing by a light pole, lighting up a cigarette while chatting with others, not much to see. Although it is entertaining, to say the least, to watch people make out.
Some couple reclines against a wall next to an old phone booth, a few meters across from my building, with their heads moving a lot, to all directions, and it disconcerting.
Everyone has their own style as in the way your lips blend with others, with hands wandering the landscapes of another body, finding home at where it is the most pleasurable.
But with this image, it almost made me wonder if they were the puppets of a prankster which resides at the very top of the building the couple lays against to. Before I could make out where their strings were, the breeze entered.
And it jolted me awake.
Feeling disturbed, I tilt back my head, chugging down the whole cherry drink.
The warmth of the drink burns down my esophagus, entering the mouth of my stomach viciously, making immediate its effect.
My body ignites, as waves of electric warmth travel under my skin, and I feel immensely high, with my body feeling less petrified and more vigorous. My hands skim up the curves of my hips, through my curvy waist, to the silhouette of my bosom, to my head, stretching lazily, as a cat.

I don't know what I am doing. I'm bored, tired and so dirty.
Truth is, I've been making time for Yaretzi, a gorgeous indigenous descendant of dark, luscious mane, to come back to find me. It's only right to wait for her, as we came together. But it's been two hours and the party is cooling at this point.
I depart, lazily moving through the crowds of inebriated smiles, gracefully falling from arm to arm, dancing at the same time as I make my way toward the halls.
The hallways are different from the fluorescent lightning.
Instead, they were dark.
Perfect for make out, or other deals.
As I walk through the halls, the sides of my dress begin riding up.
I tug it down while scanning the room. I can barely see the people, but you can tell some are doing more than what they seem to do, such as a couple on my left. You can see the girl's head tilt back, leaning back against the brick wall while a huge bump is on her chest. As I get closer, I start to realize that it is the head of a guy sucking on her breasts.
I wish I was alarmed by this but I'm more furious by the fact Yaretzi ditched me for that corner store boy whom she brought with us earlier.
Now I gotta go home.
Home.
It isn't really my home but my vacation home. Or so I want to call it.
Before we moved to altos de barcenas, we lived in the two story clinic that my uncle owned. The first floor is used as a clinic, and the second floor is used as a home where he resides with his family. Ever since papa made us return to our country, Guatemala, we were staying there for free in a private suite they had on the first floor, away from the other patient rooms. But then we got kicked out due to a fight that went down south with my papa and what my uncle couldn't deal with. So we moved to altos de barcenas.
I call it vacation home because I don't plan to let papa have us here, in our country, for long. The reason for us moving is something i'll tell you later, because i would tell you..
But when i was about to, i was grabbed by the elbow and yanked a bit back as i hear in my ear, "Dance with me,"
"Okay,"
And off I go with this entity whom I haven't even looked at his face.
All I see as he guides me to the dance floor is an incredibly tall entity with a nice, strong back with a white shirt which is lifting up a bit. His tan skin calls my name, such as those big arms of his. He's so tall, and I'm so tiny, only 4'11.
My head barely reaches the beginning of this chest, I don't care to look at his face. I don't care about looking at anyone's face, or else i'll find them staring at me which is weird, i don't know why they are looking.
I let loose, my hips are worse than me, moving too provokably for my liking, seducing my dance partner as he grabs my hand and twirls me. He then pulls me abruptly against his body. Even when my gaze is hazy and blinded by the contrast between darkness and light, I can feel every bit of his body.
What I know about my partner: he's a really good dancer.
He's well proportioned in every sense of the word, with strong biceps, my weakness, a well defined torso with killer abs and a squeezable butt which any gym girl would kill for. His sweaty shirt sticks to his body tight, revealing his small waist and when he pulls me away from him to twirl me, I scan up his body, to find a beautiful face with eyes that are hungry for me.
The seductive is seduced.
Who would have thought?
My hands skim up my body, from my waist to my head, both arms crossing in the back of my neck as I rock my hips side to side too dangerously. I cant help to be sexual.
It happens naturally if you ask me, most of the time it's the result of what people give me. For example, he gives me butterflies.
He's so exciting.
Oh, I look at him, and when he looks at me, his eyes tell me to ride him.
My hand reaches his v neck line and grabs it, pulling it toward me as his hands land on my hips, following them in their moves, but then they start to go lower and lower, making my body shiver. My body feels how his hand grabs on my butt and the other one moves up my spine, landing on the back of my neck, and tilts it back as he presses his lips on my throat, kissing it.
I turn around and dance on him while his hands grab mine and lift them up in the air. We slowly drop to the floor, dancing, relying way too much on our knees but we dont care. I can hear people cheer for us as we go down, and we dance harder, never missing a beat. Now that i think about it, fuck Yaretzi.
I found something better now that I stayed here for a bit more.
We stand up and he twirls me, pulling back to his chest.
He says, "Let's get out of here." and I cannot say no.