The one time that Shirley did go to a dance club, she went alone and after knocking back a few shots at the bar, she mustered up the courage to dance on the crowded floor by herself. Normally on the street, she would be the center of attention in her black lace blouse, her leather mini and thigh-high boots, but on that night, she was one of many women dressed more or less the same way on the crowded dance floor. She was lost in the mix.
At one point a man half her age who was wearing black lipstick and eye shadow, a black fishnet t-shirt, and leather pants started to dance with her. She loved his outfit. Now he must be a very creative person to dress that way, she thought. She was convinced he was a higher creative being. Shirley loved the way he danced, though he was only just shuffling around and bumping into her. After they had danced for some 30 minutes, he said he needed a drink. She invited him back to her place. She wanted to get to know him more. She loved his look. Shirley was certain she was the envy of all the women in the club.
Back at her apartment, they danced some more, between shots of Wild Turkey. Heavy industrial music exploded against the walls of her apartment as they grinded against each other. She felt his cock pushing through his pants. When she first met him in the club, she wasn’t certain if he was gay, bi or straight, but she figured he had to be straight when she felt his hard on pressing against her.
He told her how he wanted to fuck her, fuck her hard, as he continued to grind against her. But Shirley didn’t want to fuck, she just wanted to dance and drink.
Just dance with me pretty boy and you can go home later and jack off as you think about me, she thought. Right now I don’t want to fuck, I just want to drink and dance and get out of my head.
They danced for another 30 minutes in her apartment before she sent him on his way once she found out he was a grad student in some MBA program. She was disappointed he wasn’t interested in hearing about her ideas on how she wanted to change her life, and that he had no interesting ideas of his own.