When we surfaced for air, slightly breathlessly I asked, “I just have to ask you, when did you learn to dance like that? You were amazing!”
Ben laughed. “I’m actually a competition ballroom dancer. That kind of dancing isn’t really my thing, but ballroom gives you the fundamentals. We’re competing in Blackpool in a couple of months.”
His kisses had really turned me on. I could feel my wetness gathering, certain it must be seeping into the gusset of my flimsy panties. I decided to lay out my cards for him. I’d hooked him, and certainly wasn’t planning on spending the night on my own.
Placing my hand on his thigh, but trying to appear a little coy, I softly murmured in his ear, “Well Ben, if your horizontal moves are as good as your dance ones, you’d better come to Room 618 when this finishes!” With that, I leaned in for another passionate kiss. This time, Ben’s hand was deliciously exploring my thigh through the slit in my dress.
Had we not been in such a public place, I’d have been tempted to unzip him and sit on his lap, then slide his shaft into my hungry pussy, right there and then.
After kissing and fondling a while longer, we made our way back into the noisy main room, which was in darkness, except for the flashing lights around the stage and dance floor. I eventually spotted Gemma, who was seated at a table, snogging some guy, who seemed to be trying to locate her tonsils with his tongue, whilst trying to simultaneously free her boobs with one hand and venture up her dress with the other.
“You two should get a room, Gemma!” I shouted over the din of music and raised voices.
Gemma extricated herself from under the young man, tugging on the front of her dress, to ensure that her melons were still where they were supposed to be, at least for now.
“Come and sit down… see you’ve got yourself a fella then, Char,” Gemma slurred, clearly quite drunk. “What’s ‘is name then?”
Ben and I sat down at a couple of spare chairs.
“This is Ben. Ben, this is Gemma, my… roommate.”
“This is Andy,” slurred Gemma. “Let’s hope Andy is a bit ‘andy,” she said raucously, laughing hysterically at her own joke, squeezing the bulge in front of Andy’s trousers, before going back to playing tonsil hockey with him.
“See you in the morning, Gemma. Just remember the room arrangements!” I shouted, to make myself heard over the noise.
With that, Ben and I headed back to the dance floor, for him to glide me around for the final, slow number of the night, before making our way to Room 618.
~~~~~~
I squinted as a ray of sunshine stabbed through a chink in the curtains, hitting me in the eyes like a laser beam. Groggily, I turned to look at my watch on the bedside cabinet. ‘Five to nine,’ registered in my brain. ‘Thank goodness it’s Sunday.’ I was contemplating rolling over and going back to sleep, then remembered that breakfast was only served till 10am, so I reluctantly dragged myself into a sitting position.
Glancing over at the other bed, I saw Gemma’s prone form, still peacefully sleeping. Most of the other attendees had gone back to their homes and families on Saturday afternoon, to spend the remainder of the weekend with them, but as we were heading out on the road first thing on Monday, we’d booked an additional couple of nights.
I reached over the gap to the other bed and gently shook Gemma. “Wakey, wakey,” I called softly. “We should go down to breakfast.”
Gemma opened one eye. “Wassa time?” she mumbled sleepily.
“Nearly nine. And I’m hungry.”
Gemma stretched, her arms raised above her head, fingers locked. The quilt slid down a little and those bloody tits made another appearance. “OK, I’m awake. Make us a coffee, while I nip to the loo?” With that, she slid out from under the quilt and padded, completely naked, to the bathroom.
I busied myself with making us two strong coffees and handed one to Gemma when she emerged from the bathroom. Glancing down at Gemma’s chest, I couldn’t help but notice a number of love bites on her breasts, blackening and tinged with yellow. I giggled and pointed. “I guess Andy was still hungry then?”
Gemma looked down at the evidence from Friday night, then hoisted one of her big tits up, to examine it more closely. “Yep, he certainly had an appetite… maybe I’ll tell you about it later.”
During Saturday afternoon and evening, neither of us had mentioned the previous night, as was the custom. Besides, Gemma had a colossal hangover and didn’t feel very talkative. Following a meal Saturday night, we’d decided to have a reasonably early night and recover from the excesses.
After having breakfast and more coffee, we were both feeling much more human. “I’ve an idea,” said Gemma. “I know we’ve got some work to do later, but why don’t we go into Birmingham for a few hours, have a stroll round the shops and see the sights? It looks like it will be a nice day.” I thought that sounded a lovely idea and happily agreed.
A while later, we were strolling past Gas Street Basin, where we saw a number of brightly painted boats moored up, curls of smoke rising from their black chimneys. Gemma opened her backpack and carefully extracted an Olympus camera. “Wow, what have you got there?” I asked.
“It’s the latest digital model,” explained Gemma. “I borrowed it from the equipment store. I told them I wanted to try to encourage customers to have adverts with photos. These cameras cost a small fortune, but it’s amazing… watch!” With that, she switched the camera on, then framed a shot of the boats in the basin. The shutter clicked, and instantly, the image of the photo appeared on the little screen. “No film, you see… you can take all the pictures you like, and they get stored in a memory.”