The Hunter

This story is dedicated to femininity... every single luscious inch of her.

I don't know your name, and the lights strobing across the sea of bodies offer me only secret glimpses of your face. I haven't even heard your voice, and would probably struggle to make out your life story above the pounding bass. But it doesn't matter. I feel the vibes coming from you, and they tell me all I need to know. You are the hunter -- practised, proven and justifiably proud of your game. You are at your peak, but yet something is missing.

I draw back into the shadows of the balcony and light a cigarette. I could watch you all night -- your blonde hair blazing across the dance floor like a slow-moving comet, on course for the most attractive girl in the room. She is small and almost frail in appearance with raven-black hair and a dress that emphasises every angel-sculpted curve.

I smile. I like your taste, but I like your style even more.

The girl remains oblivious to your presence until you're standing right in front of her. She smiles and her face lights up at the unexpected attention. You are looking deep into her eyes, breathing sweet nothings into her ear and enjoying the response that you knew you'd get. Your arm slides casually around her shoulder. She leans in closer.

It's all been far too easy -- feeding time at the zoo.

You reach forward to kiss her. A gentle brush of the lips at first, and then the last remaining façade of domesticity collapses, and you are kissing her hungrily as her body becomes putty in your hands.

But this is where the picture-postcard seduction ends. Her face is flushed with desire, her entire body falling open to whatever route your hunger leads you on. And then midway through that kiss, your eyes open and become glassy, almost dead. You are bored of being the hunter.

I put out my cigarette and wander off to get a drink from the bar. By the time I've battled through the stampede and returned, you are sitting among your friends, a cigarette smouldering between your smooth strong fingers. Post-coital? Judging by your earlier expression I doubt it.

You finish your drink and gaze around the room. Nobody notices when you get up and leave the table. Your movements are too quiet and too smooth. But I notice from my vantage point. I notice everything, from the restlessness of your fingers to the slow, deep breathing, indicative of so much more.

I'm busy following the outline of your breasts when you look up. Our eyes meet, and neither of us looks away.

What passes between us in that fleeting second is an energy -- a primeval pulse that's existed longer than there've been words to describe it. And as suddenly as it appears, so it vanishes.

You are disappearing through the leaves of artificial palms. My heart quickens. This is far from your natural habitat, but you are completely at home in it, moving slowly, smoothly and radiating sex as you make your way towards a distant passage.

I put down my drink and smile. Even hunters need to pee from time to time.

It hasn't occurred to you that you aren't alone in that darkened passageway. I can move just as quietly as you. The door slams shut behind you, and I wait.

This is where my patience is tested to the limit. Solitary creature that you are, you've wandered to the remotest part of the club. There is nothing here to distract me from my dark and needful fantasies. The music is faint, but somehow the lyrics of the Chemical Brothers song cut through the walls, the bass and strike a note somewhere deep inside --

Sometimes I feel that I'm misunderstood. The river's running deep right through my blood.

Heat spreads over my body, from my toes to my finger tips. I am aching to touch you.

Your naked body's lying on the ground You always get me up when I'm down...

After what seems like an eternity the door opens and you emerge, surrounded by light. When you see me you pause. A flicker of recognition passes over your face, and your lips part. You are about to say something, but somehow the words won't come out.

"Did the pussy get your tongue?" I ask with a wry smile.

"Not yet," you reply.

I smile again. At close range I can enjoy every nuance of your expression. The quiet self-assurance is still there, but deep inside your Atlantic-blue eyes I see something else that borders on vulnerability. It melts my heart, and makes me want to fuck you just as much as when I saw you on the dance floor. But suddenly there's so much more to it than just that. I want to hold you, and I want to make love to you like you've never experienced before.

The air has become heavy with expectation. Neither of us has moved in the last minute. We are both waiting, but you have already been waiting far too long.

We're out of control, Out of control, Out of control...

I take a step forward, and you stand your ground. I move forward again until I feel your body up against mine, warmth radiating from you as your chest rises and falls. Your shallow breathing caresses my cheek, and I lean in closer still. My lips brush against yours, and suddenly we are kissing passionately, intensely, shattering any remaining façade of civilisation as we release the wildness that exists in both of us.

My hand slides up your back, and as I run my fingers over the back of your neck and through your hair your entire body trembles. You groan. My tongue takes instant advantage of the situation and disappears into your mouth. I can feel your heart pounding against mine and your need increasing as my leg moves between yours, forcing them apart.

I break from the kiss as my hands slide under your t-shirt. I want to watch your expression as I touch your skin for the first time. Your eyes are closed and you're breathing heavily as I unfasten your bra. When the kiss resumes, I am holding your breasts in my hands - stroking, squeezing, kneading, and running my thumbs over your nipples until you are craving so much more.

I lift your t-shirt and replace my hands with my lips, reeling as I feel your nipples swell and grow sensitive in my mouth.

You are so lost in this sensation that you barely notice that I've already unfastened your pants. When my fingers slide underneath the elastic of your lace underwear, you jump slightly, and grab my wrist. I pause, waiting for your reaction, waiting for a sign. I lift my head slightly.

"Fuck me..." you whisper, and push my hand lower.

I don't need any further help. My fingers are spreading you open, sliding through wetness and then plunging deep inside you. You release a slow animal moan. It is the sound of total capitulation.

I slide your clothes down a few inches. In the back of my mind I wish we had a bed, or at least a counter... Maybe if we went into the bathroom, or took a cab back to mine? But that would be to miss the essence of the moment. You're looking for something different. I want to be your 'something different'.

You sigh as I pull my fingers out of you, but the disappointment is soon replaced by lust as you watch those fingers disappearing into my mouth. You taste like heaven.

I kiss you again, but this time my lips are sliding across your cheek. My teeth graze the sensitive skin on your neck, and you close your eyes as I sink them in to the flesh on your shoulder.

I step back further into the shadows, taking you with me, my arm around your waist as I turn your body around. Trapped as your body might be, it's nothing compared to the way you've ensnared my heart.

You are raw energy, waiting to be set free.

I feel you reach around, fumbling with the button of my combats. I help you out. It's the last remaining barrier to discovering the effect you have on me. I want you. I want you to feel how wet you make me, and just how much I hunger for you.

When you feel my rubbing up against the bare skin of your ass I'm almost certain I hear a gasp. It soon turns into another groan as my fingers slip inside you and I begin fucking you slow, deep, hard, making you forget where you are and who you think you are.

You clit is already throbbing when I bring my other hand round. You respond to every touch, and the tension building inside you releases a flood of wetness from me.

You lean back into my arms and I spread my fingers inside you. You are so close, and get closer still as I curl my fingers upwards and stroke you to a long, earth-shattering orgasm.

By the time we're both aware of our surroundings, the music has stopped. We are in each others' arms, sweating, breathless and basking in the afterglow of what's just taken place. I don't want to let go, and neither do you. The distinction between hunter and hunted has long gone. It's hard to tell who's trembling the most, and as my head spins I find myself holding you tighter.

We escape the club just minutes before the bolts are slid across the door. As we step out into the rain, I lose myself in your kisses one more time.

I look into your eyes. I see life.