From just out of her line of vision, I watch her… she is dancing, her body twisting, dark hair whipping out wildly as she gyrates to the beat- or is it against it? Her movements are reckless and bold, with no rhythm to them… and yet somehow they hold an odd quality of strength and grace that held me and my helpless gaze captive, unable to look away. Her clingy top, already showing a good view of impressive cleavage and flat, toned stomach, ride up even further with her movements, as if taunting all watching for what they cannot have. She laughs breathlessly, though I am too far, and the music is too loud, for me to hear her, and I watch as she continues to grind her ass against the slack-jawed, glimmering-eyed male behind her.
I watch her, and my insides twist with jealousy, sharp and bitter in its surprising intensity. I want every part of the scene I am watching.
I want to be like her… I want to be able to be that free, that confident in myself and my body. I want to have that kind of body, to have guys look at me, want me, like all the guys around her are looking at her and wanting her. I want to be able to have all she has, and not care, to be at ease no matter what anyone else thinks of me…
But mostly… I want her. I want to be the one up there with her, the one she's rubbing her ass up against. I want to be the one she smiles at, the one she shouts at breathlessly over the music, the one who feels her warm breath tickling my neck, my face. I want to feel her hands on my hips, her hair hitting my face and shoulders as she moves her head with the music. I want to be the one feeling her hands run over my body, rough, exploring, as her lips seal over mine and her tongue makes my tongue's acquaintance- and quite possibly life long friendship. I want to be the one she'll eventually drag off into another room or hallway, where the dancing bump and grind will eventually become horizontal in nature…
I want it all so bad I can barely breathe, my breath hard to emerge past the lump blocking my throat. I want it so bad that my eyes water, and soon I see two of her dancing form—all the more to torment myself with.
But I don't' move, I don't do anything. I sit back, my heart pounding hard and painfully in my chest, my breath straggling, and I watch her. I just watch her… because I know if I let her see me, she would beckon me over to her, ask me to join her in her dancing. And no matter how much I want it, I can't, I just can't bring myself to do that… because I don't know how I would handle actually getting my deepest, most fervent desire.
So I stand back, where I know she cannot see me, and I watch her… so completely faithless, Faith-less, in every conceivable way.