It was Saturday night. I was ready to make the bar scene, and meet the girl of my dreams. Well, maybe just the girl of my desires. Or even any girl willing to make out with me for a while. There wasn’t much happening in small-town Iowa these days, and I’d already met every girl within fifty miles. If I got really lucky, there’d be someone new, or at least someone who’d give me a second chance. Otherwise, it’d be Ms. Hand again tonight…

It was just after nine o’clock. The band sounded good, and they’d cut the volume back a bit this week, so it was possible to talk, too. I scanned the room. No new faces. A couple of girls I’d dated back in high school, and a few a bit older. Two couples in their thirties. An older guy at the end of the bar, half-drunk already. Three other twenty-something guys looking to score. Oh, well…

Then she walked in. She was nothing like my perfect girl. She was too tall, too thin. Her hair was too dark. Her skirt was too long. Nothing that I liked in a girl except, well, she was a girl.

She walked up to the bar and ordered a white wine. Her voice was a bit deeper than I liked, too. She turned, sipped her wine, and looked at the band and the dance floor. Immediately one of the other guys walked over and said something to her. She smiled but shook her head. He spoke again, and again she shook her head. He must be asking her to dance, I thought, and she’s not going to dance with him. He walked away.

She walked over to a table and sat. A second guy walked over, leaned over, and spoke. She shook her head. He pulled out a chair and sat down. She got a scowl on her face and spoke. He shook his head, then got up, saying something as he did. She answered, angrily, and he walked away. 

The third guy started in her direction, but even before he got there, she shook her head, and he turned around and went back to his table. Does she prefer girls, I wondered. 

I had another beer and danced with a couple of the girls that I had known from high school. They were kind of fun to dance with, but they weren’t interested in more, at least not tonight. 

The tall thin girl had another white wine and very forcefully rebuffed the advances from the older guy, who tried to buy her a drink. She talked to one of the girls too, who came over to her table, but she also left with a shake of the head. 

“It’s getting late,” I thought, “and she’s turned down nearly everyone in the room but me. What she into?” I looked around the room. No other possibilities. Either her or give up and go home alone. “Well, you never know. What have I got to loose?”

I walked over to the table. “Hi,” I said. “You’re drinking alone.”

“Yes, I have been.”

“Do you dance?” I asked.

“I love dancing,” she replied.

“But you’re not dancing.”

“No, because you haven’t asked me yet.”

“Huh?” I thought. “So, would you like to dance?”

“I'd love to,” she got up. I put down my beer, took her hand, and led her to the dance floor.

“I’m Rick,” I said as the music started. 

“Hi, Rick. I’m Bobbie,” she replied.

“She’s a good dancer,” I thought.  When the song ended, she made no move to go back and sit, so we danced again. The third song was slow, and again she made no move to leave the floor. I took her right hand in my left, and put my other hand on her back. She stepped toward me, put her hand on my shoulder, and began to move with me, our bodies just barely brushing each other as we danced.

I could smell her perfume, and feel her warmth as we danced. I began to stiffen a bit. I was thinking that she wasn’t too bad after all. I might even like to spend a little more time with her.

When the song ended, she squeezed my hand, and said, “I need to use the ladies room. Don’t go away. I’ll be right back.”

I walked back to her table and sat. She wouldn’t be right back; there was a line at the ladies room. She was fourth, so it was going to be a while. She looked back at me and shrugged her shoulders. I pointed to her wine glass. She nodded. 

I walked over to the bar with her glass and my empty bottle and ordered one more of each. As I walked back to the table, I could see her finally go into the ladies room. A couple of minutes later, she came out and walked back to the table.

We talked about the band, and how she didn’t like the taste of beer, and the weather. I said, “Are you new around here?”

“Yes and no,” she said.

“Huh? I’m not sure I followed that”

“I moved away a few years ago, and just moved back.”

“Well, if you lived around here, I’d sure remember you,” I said.

“I’ve changed a lot. If you did know me, you wouldn’t remember. Oh, this song is one of my favorites,” she said, changing the subject. “Let’s dance.”

Three songs later, we were slightly out of breath, when another slow song started. This time, Bobbie moved much closer to me as the music started. Her body was pressed against mine from hips to breasts. Her head was touching mine, her chin resting lightly on my shoulder. As she moved, she brushed back and forth across my body.

I could feel myself stiffening again. She could apparently feel it too because she pressed her hips against me. She sighed as she did. I tried to pull back a bit, but she moved with me. She was apparently interested in feeling my erection pressed against her.

When the song ended, I was fully erect, and bulging out against my jeans. She giggled. “Is that a mouse in your pocket, or do you like dancing with me?”

“I like dancing with you. That’s pretty obvious to everyone looking in this direction.”

She giggled again. “Maybe we should stop dancing.”

“Only if you’ve got a better idea,” I said, as we sat back down at the table. 

“Well, I have some ideas,” she said. “But I don’t know if they’re the kind of ideas you’d like.”

“If it means you and I being really close to each other like we were when we were dancing, I’d like them.”

“I’m not so sure,” she said. The band started a new song. “I like this song, too. Let’s dance!”

I took her hand and led her out on the floor again. We danced until a slow song started. Bobbie said, “I’ll be right back,”  and ran to the ladies room.

I stood, confused, at the edge of the dance floor as several other couples danced. When Bobbie came out, the song was almost over. She was putting something in her purse. She wrapped both arms around my shoulders and pulled herself tight to me. She kissed me quickly on the lips, then put her head on my shoulder. 

I put his arms around her and began to move with her. She was pressed tightly against me, our hips locked together as we moved. My erection was immediate. The song ended, and the band started another slow dance. We kept dancing. 

As we moved, Bobbie whispered, “Rick, I have to tell you something. Please don’t hate me for it.”

I whispered back, “I’d never hate you, no matter what.”

“I’m not so sure,” she whispered. “Rick, I’m a guy.”

“WHAT?” I tried to pull away.

“Wait,” whispered Bobbie, her arms still wrapped around me. “Just finish the dance. Please.”

The song was almost over. I felt my erection shrinking. Bobbie relaxed her grip on me a bit but continued to dance. “Rick,” she said, “finish the dance. Then you can go. Or we can talk. Whatever you like. Please.”

When the song ended, I dropped my arms. Bobbie didn’t. She said, “Rick, please. Look at the front of my skirt before you move away.” I looked down between us. She, or rather he, had an erection. It was pushing out the front of her, or his, skirt.

I felt myself starting to get hard again. “How could that be happening,” I wondered. “I’m not gay, am I?”

The band started a new song; another slow one. Bobbie began to sway to the music, the bulge in the front of his skirt brushing against the growing bulge in my jeans. I slowly lifted my arms, and put my hands on Bobbie’s hips. I started to move my hips in time with Bobbies’ so that our cocks were brushing against each other through our clothes. 

By the time the song ended, we were both flushed and breathing rapidly. I realized I was close to cumming. Bobbie pulled himself closer to me, pressing our hips together, and kissed me. I could feel her tongue brushing against my lips. I opened my mouth a bit, and let his tongue touch mine. I pulled my hips tight to him, as the cum began to squirt from my cock into my jeans. Without breaking our kiss, I moaned lightly. Bobbie pressed himself hard against me and began to shake. He was cumming too, I realized. We held each other tight as our cocks spasmed out their loads.

Breaking the kiss, we moved to the table and sat. Without saying a word, Bobbie reached for her wine and tipped the glass over. The wine flowed off the table onto both of our laps. I nearly tipped my chair over trying to escape the wine. Bobbie didn’t move.

With our napkins, he tried to clean up the spill. As he did, he leaned over and whispered. “That will explain the wet spot on the front of your jeans. And the one on my skirt.”