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back down the steps.
    If he’d been standing there, John thought ruefully, he could
have looked right up her dress.
    She joined him at the table and downed her Scotch in one
shot. The rap faded and the opening beats of Bob Seger’s Her Strut began. The small crowd applauded. Lucy took John’s hand and dragged him back
out on the floor.
    John was usually a little—okay, a lot—self-conscious about
his dancing. But the minute he saw her move, he knew nobody was going to be
watching him. She gave herself to the music, shaking, grinding, circling him.
Was she coming on to him? The stirring between his legs refused to subside.
Maybe he was imagining things. A girl could dance, couldn’t she, without it
being an invitation?
    Seger faded. John sighed. Maybe he could sit down now, catch
his breath, get his hormones under control. But Seger was replaced by ZZ Top’s Legs ,
and he knew they weren’t going anywhere.
    His arousal grew, watching her move, and she seemed to be
dancing closer, brushing against him more often. You’re imagining things, he told himself. She moved in, brushed against his thigh.
    Then, for one beat, she pressed against his groin.
    Nolan’s friend, Nolan’s friend, Nolan’s friend , he
chanted desperately to himself. The chanting had no effect.
    ZZ Top faded away, replaced next by You Can Leave Your
Hat On . John couldn’t remember who recorded it. He could barely remember
his own name. Lucy put her hands on his shoulders, drew herself close to his
body, and John’s hands closed on her waist. He tried to maintain a little
distance, to keep her from actually rubbing against his bulge, but she was
having none of that. She pressed against him, her eyes meeting his, locking on,
as her breasts mashed against his chest, her nipples hard as tiny bullets.
    On the next beat, she moved her feet between his, bringing
her pelvis firmly against his erection.
    Still dancing, she gyrated against him without breaking
contact.
    John closed his eyes and groaned. She brought her face next
to his, her breath hot in his ear. He knew it was idiotic, but he still thought
there was some chance he was misinterpreting. “I’m sorry,” he said softly,
pulling her even closer. “It’s just that you’re so…”
    Lucy turned her head and kissed him square on the mouth. Her
tongue parted his teeth, and then it was everywhere, exploring, demanding, and
he opened his mouth wider, trying to get her farther inside, letting her devour
him while he invaded the sweet, Scotch-flavored heat of her mouth.
    His erection was now undeniably full-blown, trapped between
their writhing bodies. John groaned again, lifting his mouth from hers. The
last rational fragment of his mind was screaming, Nolan’sfriendNolan’sfriendNolan’sfriend ,
but the rest of him was on fire everywhere their bodies met.
    She ran her tongue along the outer edge of his ear, then
took the lobe between her teeth and bit it, gently but sharply. Carefully, John
pulled away so he could look at her. Her eyes were bright, dancing, her lips
parted, a little swollen from the earlier kiss. There was no longer any
question. Shoulders to toes, their bodies pressed together.
    But.
    “Nolan,” John managed to gasp.
    A little laughter flashed past her eyes. “Maybe next time,”
she answered lightly. “He said it was okay.”
    “He what?”
    “Do you have a condom?”
    Bless the scouts , John thought, feeling his mouth
fall open. He could only nod.
    Lucy took the open mouth as an invitation and kissed him
again. This time her tongue was quicker, lighter, and John felt his knees go
weak.
    “Come with me,” Lucy whispered. John wanted to tell her that
he wasn’t sure he could walk, but she had already turned, drawing him behind
her so that his erection was hidden against her shapely butt as they made their
way across the dance floor.
    She led him under the DJ’s nest, back to a door marked
“Employees Only”, and through it to a starkly lit hallway.
    There were