I stare out towards everyone dancing and enjoying themselves, but I focus on the spot they’ve cleared in the center of the dance floor. A lithe, dark-haired beauty in a clinging red dress and matching lipstick on her olive complexion stares straight at me.
She’s surrounded by the circle of admiring dancers. She pulsates and stares seductively, directing everyone's attention at me, along with the “fuck me” look in her eyes. Her arm stretches out toward me with her fingers motioning in a “come here, big boy” gesture. Angel is the antithesis of the name that her parents gave her in every way.
For a moment I'm flashing back to her straddling me, arms around me, face above me moaning, riding me hard. Her moaning got louder and louder to match the banging of her cousin pounding on the door, wanting to be let into the dressing room for her own wedding.
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