In Too Deep(133)

"We shall, beautiful lady," Scott said, offering me his arm. I could quickly become charmed by his almost old fashioned gentlemanly manners, and the walk to his car was pleasant. He let me mess with his in-dash navigation system for a moment before figuring out how to input the address, and we were off.

"Sorry, I'm just too easily distracted by stuff outside to be a good navigator," I told him as he drove. "Much better for you to just follow R2-D2 on your dash."

Scott chuckled. "I wouldn't have taken you for a Star Wars fan."

I laughed. "Oh, that I totally am. I've even forced myself to like Jar-Jar Binks, or at least tolerate him enough to watch the prequels without going into a homicidal rage. Besides, let's face it, Natalie Portman was hot in a lot of those outfits."

Scott gave me a double take, then turned his attention back to the road.

I knew maybe I’d said a little too much. It was a habit of mine sometimes, I talked just to talk, and sometimes I said a little too much. “Don’t worry, it was a phase I went through. And my constant talking like this is what earned me my nickname in college."

"Oh, what was that?" Scott asked, taking it in stride.

"One of the other girls in my dorm called me Deadpool."

"Ah, the Merc with the Mouth," Scott said gleefully. "Red outfit, hits or tries to hit on just about every other character, and a total wiseass. Just tell me you're not deadly with pistols?"

I laughed, shaking my head. "Negative. Never fired a gun in my life before. So you're into comics too?"

"It helps on slow days around the shop," Scott said. "Normally into DC, but since they re-launched The New 52, I've been dabbling around. Not a problem I take it?"

"I just told you I thought Natalie Portman was hot in Star Wars, and you're worried that I think you liking comic books is weird? Scott, just where do they make you, because you are too good to be true."

"You'd be surprised."

We got to the club, and Scott found a parking spot underneath one of the lights in the parking lot. It was one of the safer clubs in town, but still, young people, alcohol, and semi-sexual activity didn't lead to always peaceful behavior. The line was pretty short for a Friday night, which I had anticipated. There was a big act in town at one of the other local clubs, and I was sure it was going to be packed. That meant that this club was going to be a little more laid back, which is what I thought Scott would be ready for.

The doorman and I were on a nodding acquaintance, and let Scott and me in through the velvet rope without even waiting in line. "Nice to see you, Tabs."

"Thanks, Tank. Enjoy tonight."

Inside, Scott gave me a look after we'd checked my purse and his light jacket with his wallet and stuff in. "You know the doorman?"

"Just a bit. He broke up a fight once between two guys who thought I was a piece of meat to snarl over."

"Really? What did he do?"

"Threw one into the side of a car, and kicked the other in the balls," I said with a grin. "Tank doesn't fight fair. Enough of that, though, let's dance!"

The music was pretty typical club fare, but I wasn't interested in whether the songs were hot or not. Instead, my eyes were caught up with Scott, who moved better than I had feared as the beat moved into his body. He relaxed pretty well, and while he wasn't going to win Dancing with the Stars anytime soon, he knew what to do as our bodies came closer and closer together. The first brush of my hip against his sent a jolt through both of our bodies, and as the music stopped, both of us were breathing a bit faster.

"This is more fun than I thought it would be," Scott said in the slightly less deafening sound of the club as we made our way off the floor. "Thanks!"

We got drinks, nothing alcoholic for me. Sophie has seen me act tipsy with men in clubs all the time, but the reality is unless I was with female platonic friends, I never drink alcohol in nightclubs. First of all, it's too damn easy to get your drink spiked nowadays. Like I said, I’m a little wild and free, but I’m smart. Secondly though for me, it actually takes that delicious sexual edge off of the dance floor, and who wants to mess with that? Scott just had a beer, which totally fit his personality, straightforward with no bull crap. Just as he finished, he set his cup (sadly, the club didn't allow bottles after a fight a few years before) and smiled at me. "You wanna dance again?"

For the next few hours, Scott and I engaged in an erotic, sensual foreplay on the dance floor that left my heart thumping and my body buzzing. He seemed to know exactly where and when to move closer, and his touches, while never naughty, were always in such a way that it lit the nerves of my skin on fire. When the last set came on and the bass picked up while the beat slowed down, we were nearly grinding on each other, and all I could do was stop myself from ripping his shirt off and having sex with him right there on the dance floor.

His hand slid around to my lower back, his eyes locked with mine as we came closer, my legs parting on their own, yearning for him to be between them. Scott obliged with one well-muscled leg, pushing closer to me to the point I could feel the sweat dampened fabric touch against my soaked panties. I gasped, throwing my arms around his neck and wantonly dry humping his leg, rubbing myself against the fabric, hungry for release. "Oh God," I moaned, leaning into him.