Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek. I only own my fantasies.
Might I suggest listening to Sade while reading....
The light is dim, keeping the dance floor in sensual darkness. Other couples move around you, close but not too close, hardly making an impression on your thoughts. Your thoughts--focused on nothing now but the strong hands holding you close, the rhythmic music moving you in unison. Your head rests heavily against his shoulder, intoxicated by only his scent.
The music changes tempo, becoming faster and more wanton with the lead in of a strong sax. His moves become formal, gripping you even more firmly as he moves you confidently around the floor. As the singer begins, you look up at him, singing along, teasing him with the chorus. He returns the favor by discreetly grinding himself against your thigh.
The next two songs take the tempo back down, a slow melancholy tale of broken hearts bring you both back into a somber frame of mind. He pulls you close, holding you like he intends to never let you go. The second song speaks of break ups and loneliness and makes you slide your hands under his cropped jacket, seeking comfort against the singer's pain as much as if it were your own. You feel his hands move to the small of your back, touching and inciting your bare skin. His head comes down to rest against yours, encircling you in his essence, making the sadness abate if even for a little while. You drift across the floor, ignoring anything or anyone save yourselves.
Once again the music changes, becoming more sultry and percussive. Not wanting to dwell on things that cannot be changed, you push away, looking up at him with a sly grin. You continue your teasing, your knowledge of the words impressing him even as you taunt him with them. The dance becomes more of a salsa. He seems appreciative of the fullness of your skirt as it billows high from a quick spin. Perhaps it is the glance of thigh and beyond that makes him smile. You move back into him, slipping your hands into his back pockets, rubbing yourself against his taut body. He cannot hide his excitement from you and you feel your own quickening deep within your loins.
As the next song opens you kick up the pace and your seduction, shimmying to the music, capturing his attention with the swaying of your breasts. His grin is carnal and it speaks of so much more to come. You lick your lips, bringing him closer, ready to taste what you just advertised.
The band seems to sense the escalation between you and increases their tempo. He takes you in hand and really starts to move. You had no idea he could dance this well; your previous efforts being limited to stilted diplomatic functions. He grins, full of his own surprises as he spins you dizzyingly. You go with it, trusting he will keep you from falling--he always does. He pulls you toward him, holding you in the crook of one arm. You feel his heart pounding against your breast and you wonder if it is from exertion or the lust you see openly in his eyes.
It does not matter; you are trapped in his grasp, as if you would ever want to flee. His hands slide up and caress your back, the heat of his touch warming more than your skin. You sway against him as he leans in, kissing the nape of your neck before moving to nibble the lobe of your ear. The music has transcended, becoming even more sexual. You hips move of their own volition now, grinding against him in a sort of primal passion. His hands cup your breasts, oblivious to anything or anyone save you--the idea of complete anonymity within a city of millions--irresistible.
It has to end--the music--the torture. A crescendo collapses the band upon themselves, their set finished for the moment, leaving you both fighting for breath. You look into his eyes, seeing a reflection of your own hunger. He smiles, nothing hidden as he slowly looks you up and down. He scans for the exit and holds out his hand, an implicit invitation to continue your evening somewhere more secluded. You smile acceptance and take his hand, eager for the erotic dance yet to come.
Sitting at a dark corner table, nicely hidden from any other than the most prying of eyes, a couple watches the man and woman leave. They turn and smile at each other, knowing perhaps they are not the only two planet-side celebrating Valentine's Day. Their look turns to something more than amusement. A slight nod toward the door and a quick assent find the couple following their captain's lead into the night, suddenly intent upon their own midnight choreography.
~ID'ic
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