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I tore myself away from the seductive hypnotism anal asian she was building note by husky note. I turned my attention then to the third male on the sliver of stage. My breath caught in my throat. He was tall, around six three or four, and every inch radiated lean muscle. His hands were amazing: broad and solid, wrapped around a gleaming brass sax. His eyes were closed, his long thick lashes brushing his high cheekbones. I found myself following the lean, sculpted line of his body downward. He wore black slacks snugly contoured to his thighs, and I found myself staring at the apex of his exquisite, long legs. His pants were snug there, as well, and smoothly outlining manhood a Greek god would have anal asian been proud of. I caught myself breathing hard, staring at this caramel coloured beauty onstage. I drew my gaze back up his fabulous body to his strong face, fascinated by his mouth as he blew soul-shattering notes from his sax. Some increasingly lusty demon in me willed him anal asian to look up, to open his eyes and see me. The heavy music he was making vibrated the floor anal asian, seeming to radiate across the narrow club and find haven between my thighs. Every tone he created curled tantalizing fingers around my throbbing clitoris. I shifted in my chair, my thighs falling apart so the music could find its way more easily into my sex.

Then it happened. The song ended, the sax player lowered his gleaming brass instrument and looked around his wildly applauding audience. His dark eyes lit on me. We stared at each other for a moment, and all seemed to go quiet. He raised a smoothly curved eyebrow anal asian at me in question. The very corners of my dark red mouth curved ever so slightly in response. I felt galvanized, powerful, as if anal asian I had willed him to notice me. His own mouth, full and wet from the sax, smiled back at me. A devilish glint gleamed deep within his eyes. His gaze flicked over me, measuring and judging every inch of my body. I was suddenly vindicated by my choice of body-forming turtleneck. I could actually feel the weight of his stare flicking over my breasts; my nipples hardened and became clearly outlined anal asian by the thin cotton. His eyes narrowed with appreciation and his smile took on an air of danger. He suddenly looked anal asian hungry to me. That primal hunger struck an answering chord within my sex, as surely as if he had played my body tone for tone like his saxophone. I couldn’t bear the waiting anymore anal asian; the temptation was too much to stand. I stood suddenly, murmured some excuse to Samantha, and made my way through the crowd. The sweating throng of closely pressed bodies brushed and tantalized anal asian every heightened nerve ending in my over-sexed body. I paused very much against my better senses, rubbing my tingling anal asian breasts against the anonymous bodies I squeezed between. A veritable orgy anal asian of faceless groping, bodies crushed to bodies, hands possessing anything they could take. I was panting by the time I reached the hall leading to the restrooms and the anal asian manager’s office. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall, wishing I had been bold enough to step onto that razor edged stage and grab the sax player, as I had wanted to. A hand suddenly touched my side, squeezed my waist. My eyes flew open. The saxophonist was standing anal asian before me just inches away, staring hard at me with anal asian his burning, coal black eyes. He lowered his handsome face, brushing my cheek with his. “The manager’s office is just down the hall,” he murmured against my ear, a deep baritone strumming anal asian the nerves along my throat. I breathed deeply, taking in the heady scent of his aftershave. He smelled like distilled sex to me, pure and crystalline as water. And I was suddenly very thirsty. I nodded ever so slightly at him, my gaze on his mouth. He brushed his full lips against mine, grazed my mouth lightly with his smooth white teeth, making my vision blur. Then he wrapped his arm around my waist and led me down the hall.
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