Have We Met Before?

I'd missed her. My Lovely Dancer. I know her. She knows me like no other. In our brief moments together we're meant to be.

She's here tonight. I see her name on the dancer sign-in board. But where? Not to worry - she'll find me.

So I settle in. Cared for by my favorite pretty waitress who greets me with a smile. "Mich Ultra?". Man, I love that part. She makes me feel at home, like Norm at Cheers. I take her recommendation and have a Corona. I particularly enjoy the lime.

The club is slow and quiet but my senses are alive. Many of my favorite dancers are in. Around me are 6 or 7 very young and really beautiful dancers in sexual poses. A community of flesh. A banquet of wonderful choices. Even a late shift dancer, in early, who looks gorgeous just sitting at the bar in her jeans. All but one are dancers that I've written tributes to here in these pages. I want to choose them all again. To revel in reconnecting with each one. To indulge my urges. But I wait.

And she finds me. Smiling and hugging and touching me as a greeting. Surpise to see me registering on her face. Her lovely face. Is it possible that she seems more beautiful with absence?

She has to go already - to dance for the guy she was sitting with. I understand. She's working. She'll be back. I pass the time watching the sexiest girls imaginable rotate through their stage sets. I take one lapdance, non-touch on an out of the way couch, with the one girl who's new to me. She was pretty, and naked, and very sexy. Long silky hair, trim waist and legs. She was skilled in the dance and it was very pleasurable. But I know now who I'm here for. And she found me again.

We sit and visit and slide immediately into familiarity. "Would you like a Red Bull and Vodka?", I ask. "How did you know? Have we met before?", she jests. It's like it was just moments ago that we were last together. I ask about her life and my questions take her back some months. "Have we known each other that long?", she asks me wistfully. Yes we have. And I'm grateful for that.

Talking and connecting as if we're the only two in the club. I lose sight of the stage. I'm only interested in her. Her energy as she tells her stories. Her elegance as she reclines in the chair smoking her cigarette. The refreshing way she sprinkles the word "fucking" through every other sentence. I love her voice when she says that word. I gaze at her lovely profile with her flawless makeup. Those lovely eyes. She's changed her hair and I really like this incarnation of her style: short and swept up in clips with wisps of hair framing her smile. Elegant. Sophisticated. Lovely.

I want her, but I have to wait. I greet her at the tiprail as she starts her stage set. She's sexy and confident on stage. Tanned and toned. Slim with a sexy voluptous ass peeking out of peek-a-boo skirt. And I relive that moment where she comes to me and cradles me into her breasts. She smells delicious.

"Did you get yourself worked up for me, for our dance?", I ask back at our table. "Are you ready to dance?", she offers. And I am.

And we dance. In private. In touch with each other. Total GFE. The GirlFriend Experience. We're way past all the beginner interplay on the couch. We quickly settle into our groove. Slow. Comfortable. No rush. Just touch. And I revel in the feel of her delicious skin. Slowly with my fingertips on her back. Light touches across her shoulders and down her arms. Across her belly. Tracing her hips. Cradling her derriere. Embracing. Caressing. Re-memorizing her with my fingertips. Aroused, of course, but beyond that. Cheek-to-cheek. Frozen in a passionate stillness. Purrrrrring into her neck as I take in her scent and her feel. Her hot breath on my ear. My lips pressed into her neck. Just being with her. Opening my eyes to just enjoy her beauty. Smiling. Laughing even, in the comfort we have with each other.

I missed her. My Lovely Dancer. Thank you, baby.