Kissing a complete gorgeous stranger

Before the fight, I had gone to Kaña as usual, intent on having fun. I did, in spite of having engaged in a physical brawl. I had witnessed the gradual deterioration of the party, the splendor of its beauty had succumbed to a crowd of lesser quality. It was full as a moon but rid of its gorgeous possibilities. It was a full of saturated feel. My aim was to make the best of it. At one point, I remember thinking that it wasn’t worth the fifteen dollars I had paid to get in. I stepped out and walked to the nearby deli two blocks up the fastidious street where I bought a couple of beers. I drank them rather fast. Later on that night, Jorge was to provide me with beer. I buy my beer usually but given the prospect of night, I thought it wasn’t worth any spending. I am not the only one inclined to such a vice. To be quiet honest, I have incur in the viciousness of getting drunk outside which is not only cheaper but it affords you with the opportunity of seeing the surrounding venues. In fact, I went inside another classier bar located on the same block but bailed out before ordering my drink. At the deli store, I saw the same guys that were sipping beer when I first got there earlier that night. It is sort of a punishment, I heard once, to Kaña’s owner for charging so much to get to the party. I think that one of the reasons the party is nowadays just a shadow of its former glamour, it is due to the idea of charging fifteen dollars a head. Back at the party, as I was making my way through the restless crowd, I stopped midway because the so-called dance floor (I have seen restrooms that are bigger than the referential place in question) was packed with couples dancing the night away. In the middle of everything, I am often brought to a halt and in the perilous edge of dawn, I get a scent of the night life which feeds me its voracity and nakedness. I can smell the sweat, the perspicacity displayed by the dominant males, the competition is fierce. A type “B” girl stopped me on my tracks with casual conversation. I thought to myself, what the hell! So I took her out to dance by merely moving a feet onto the dance spatial scene. We danced and then I let her go, just in case something else comes after. But she happened to be with a legion of friends which afforded me with ample promises. I danced and kissed her on the lips innocently (that is, I used no tongue but it was open) and she seemed perplexed in a positive light. I liked that. I moved along and when I came back, she took me by the hand and introduced me to her friends. One of them really called my attention and immediately, I took a whole infantry division to search for what no one had promised me. Both were kind of elated at my proximity, girls tend to display affectionate manners when a potential mate is in sight and not with the intention of securing the prey all the time but with the intention of seeing who is the one that the male at stake selects. I did select. Her name is Maria. I hadn’t danced with her more than a song and a half when I left to the bathroom and the DJ, my friend Jorge, and when I came back she stared blank at me and ignored me. I thought that was unusual but I kept right at it. Then she told me: “You kissed my friend.” I admitted it to her. “Yes,” I said. “But that was before I met you.” I didn’t expect that the other friend would go telling on me because she seemed happy already with another guy and as I passed her by several times (and seriously, not with the intention of calling her attention), she would glance nicely at me. But I had not seen Maria when I kissed her and I think a guy is entitled to make mistakes if they are honest. That sort of honesty seemed to do the trick because not long after she stood with me the whole night and her friends left the party and she still stayed with me there. We must have danced for at least two hours and if it wasn’t for the fact that someone put the lights on and called the party over, then we might still be dancing still. Of course, she insisted that I did not kiss her because, according to her, she had rules on the subject. But we did from time to time lock lips in the heat of the dance and rubbed against each other intensely, I traveled the distance between her thighs and her hips with my bare hands. I inhaled the perfume that emanated from the roots of her perspired hair. I ran the palm of hand through her face to make way for the light and see her docile staring eyes. She bit me on my right shoulder. So, it was okay for her not to kiss (which we did repeatedly) but what about biting. I guess we’ll let that one slide for the moment. I had asked her to dance with this proposition: "If we dance, we'll make the best couple dancing." We certainly did.