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She told me she was a dancer. The curves of her body moving to a rythm that God himself must have created. I watched her on the dance floor, one member audience in her sea of spectators. I watched as the dim club lights glowed off her caramel skin giving of a buttery hue. In the middle of the crowded floor she danced alone, except for my eyes.

When she pulled herself from the magic of the music and swayed towards me with her internal rhythm I offered to buy her a drink. She looked at me with her golden eyes and she told me that music was her drink, the beat was her drug and that dance was her high.

Callie was her name. The only name she would give me. I could not help but continue to peruse her body as she swayed to the music while drinking her juice at the bar. She was tall, atleast 5'11" to my 5'9". Her hair was a light brown braided in what looked like millions of little ropes on her head. Her face was full with those golden eyes and full lips with a small nose that had flaring nostrils above. Her neck was long and graceful and at that moment slick with sweat melting off her. Long arms leading to hands that had long fingers gripped her glass as she stood and swayed. Her breast looked soft. They were probably a 38b, enough to fulfill my fantasy. Her hips flared out gently, and her ass that I saw on the dance floor was round and firm as it had moved under her dress. Tight thighs and firm calves stretched down long. I could imagine those legs wrapped around my back.

...

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