She didn’t answer for second or two, but then, quietly, as if arising from a great depth, she said, “You know, I can feel you. xxx You knew it all along—even better than I did. I danced all fuckin’ night,” she said with a certain tired pride in her voice, “and, I’m so nasty, freakin’ sweaty—I’m fuckin’ drippin’ wet.”
“Everywhere?” I said, with a tone she’d recognize. My cunt is on fire—I need all their juices to put it out—I’ll call you tomorrow with the details. I had to say something, so I turned the question on her. “Buuutt,” she paused for second, then continued, “honey, we still feel like partyin’ and, so…” She drifted off, baiting me to finish it for her.
