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v1.1 (last commit 2024-10-04T16:59:37+00:00)
Song Credit: Post Malone, “Circles (Disco Fries & Karl B Bootleg Remix)”
Listen to this piece 🔊
Trey steps into the upscale 60’s art deco decor of the Monroe club, feeling the pulse of the bass thrum through his chest. The neon lights flash magenta, blue and green, casting an otherworldly glow over the sea of moving bodies. Trey’s usual headphones dangle around his neck, backpack carrying his tech gear, his trademark curly red afro catching the light, impossible to miss. He’s wearing dress clothes—striped black collared shirt, black coat, half-tucked into his black jeans, and white sneakers that contrast against the sleek golden decor of the club.
Stopping to store his stuff at coatcheck, he scans the room, heart pounding with a nervous excitement. There she is—Jasmine Wang, the girl who haunted the quiet, moonlit corners of his dreams. In high school, she was everything: valedictorian, tennis team captain, wealthy parents, a picture-perfect life. Trey Jackson, on the other hand, was the quiet kid, an introvert from immigrant parents—a father from Nairobi, a mother from Ireland—known more for his badminton skills than for fitting in. But that was over 4 years ago and tonight, and she’s a vision—dolled up in a sheer dress that hugs every curve, her legs elongated by her high heels, her long, wavy black hair tumbled down her back, framing her face with playful bangs.
Trey catches his breath. Jordan, her rumored college boyfriend, is nowhere in sight. Word had it they’d split a couple of weeks back—the very chance he’d been waiting on for almost a decade.
Jasmine, perched on a plush red leather booth with her friends, spots him almost instantly. How could she not? He is gangly and his fiery red head makes him stand out. She leans in to whisper something to her friend, and they exchange mischievous giggles before sliding off the booth, their bodies gliding onto the dance floor.
The DJ drops the beat.
Jasmine closes her eyes, lost in the vibe, swaying from side to side, her movements sultry and seductive. It’s like a magnetic trance, and Trey feels it deep in his chest. Jasmine opens her eyes halfway, catching Trey’s gaze.
The music pulses. He feels the beat sync with his heart racing.
He’s spellbound, transfixed by the hypnotic rhythm of her hips moving in perfect sync with the melody. He’s watched all the “Magic Mike” movies, envisioned moments like this in his head countless times. But now? It’s real. She’s right here, waiting for the taking.
Jasmine lifts a finger, mouthing Trey to come hither. His feet start moving. Automatically. He’s caught in her gravitational orbit. Every step toward her feels electric, synapses ablaze. His palms are sweaty, his breath shallow, but he’s locked in, bedazzled.
He reaches her, slightly taller by nearly half a head. Her smile is intoxicating, teasing. She sizes him up for a second. Then, without a word, she grabs his hands and places them firmly on her hips.
Sweat pours down his face, and for a moment, he’s tempted to tear off his shirt and flaunt his six-pack. The fabric of her sheer dress is smooth under his hands, but he can feel her warmth, her body moving effortlessly under his touch. He feels her moist skin and flash fantasizes sex—feeling her silky flesh breath through her deep moans. She turns around, her back pressing against his chest. Trey freezes, his body rigid with cerebral insecurity, but Jasmine soothes his situational neurosis.
She raises her arms above her head, slinking downward in a slow, deliberate movement, her body rubbing against his like she’s molding him to the rhythm. Trey swallows hard, his mind a blur as he tries to remember the moves he’s rehearsed in his head. But Jasmine takes control—her body, her energy—she’s leading this dance, and all Trey can do is pretend to be with her.
As she bends low, her back arched, her hands glide through her hair, down her neck, over her breasts, and then down her inner thighs. Trey’s breath hitches as her hands linger between her legs, her body snaking back up against his chest.
Trey stands there, hard, heart pounding, unsure of what to do with his hands. He wants to touch her anywhere, everywhere. Paralyzed, mesmerized.
Jasmine turns slowly to face him, her glittery eyes locking onto his. There’s a knowing look in her gaze—a blend of playfulness and desire—and Trey feels like the room has disappeared. It’s just the two of them, the music, and the erotic connecting them.
Jasmine steps closer, her body inches from his, and she leans into him, her breath brushing against his neck as she whispers something he can’t quite hear. Her lips barely graze his ear, sending shivers through his body. But before he can react, she pulls away, a teasing smile on her lips, and starts moving again—this time slower, drawing him in deeper with every sway of her head.
Trey’s hands, still on her hips, feels the heat radiating through her dress. The beat of the song pulses, matching the rhythm of her undulating body, but Trey is still stiff. He falls back into flash fantasizing—staring up at her while she grinds her hips on top of him.
Jasmine smirks. She’s not done.
In a bold move, she takes one of his hands and guides it down her waist, across her hip, pulling him closer into her sway. Their bodies pressed together now, and Trey’s mind is racing, caught between pure excitement and total terror.
But then, he let’s go. He stops thinking and starts to vibe. Awkward at first, but Jasmine’s uninhibited writhing is infectious, pulling him into the music, pulling him into her. He’s still nervous, his mind still wrestling for control, defensively fighting to stay cocksure. He closes his eyes, his body overrides, falling into her rhythm, somatically in sync, melding into one.
As the song fades into nothingness, standing facing each other, Jasmine steps in close, her lips just centimeters from his, and whispers, “Not bad badminton.”
Her lips, just barely parted, taunt him. His hands ache to cup her jaw, to pull her lips to his, to taste the sweetness of her cherry-glossed lips, but he’s caught in the tug-of-war between his heart’s desire and his mind’s restraint.
Then, with a wink, she slips away into the crowd, leaving Trey standing on the dance floor, breathless, heart racing, and sensually sated.