As I walked across Eldridge street I had butterflies in my stomach. I’d been talking to Brian, the guy I gave my number to for a week and this was our first date. Brian had suggested that we go dancing at bOb, a hole in the wall dance club on the Lower East Side that plays hip hop and reggae until the wee hours of the morning.
As I approached the club, I saw a broad, 6’4 cutie waiting for me on the corner.
“Hi,” I smiled.
“Hi,” he pulled me in for a hug and I closed my eyes as he gave me a little squeeze. He took a step back, “you look good”.
“Thanks,” I felt good in a black and white mini dress and knee-high boots. My braids were pulled back into a ponytail and my face was done with bronzer, a smokey eye and clear lip gloss.
I was excited. The electricity I felt from across the counter in Urban Outfitters was even more intense as Brian took my hand and lead me into the crowded club. Without saying much, Brian took me into the middle of the dance floor and we started to move. The music at bOb, a tiny sweat box of a club, created a sultry mood. We danced all night, with Brian taking time out to buy me drinks from time to time.
The chemistry I had with Brian was great and as first dates went, this one was going very well. As the night went on I could feel my soft 5’10 inch frame melting into his solid 6’4 inch frame. His hands moved from my waist to my hips and back again as he wrapped his arms around me from behind. Then I felt his hands push my ponytail to the side to make room for his lips on my neck.
You know that old school Mya song? The one when she sings “your lips are telling me yes when they’re kissing on my neck… should I stay? should I go? I don’t know!” I was basically having the real life experience of that song with Brian on the dance floor at bOb.
I was melting in his hands and it felt great, but I wanted more than something physical and I felt like if we got any closer, our chances of dating in the traditional sense would be ruined. It was getting late, so I told him I was ready to go home. I was hoping that by pumping the breaks, Brian and I could get to know each other more and take our time. He seemed cool about it, he hailed me a cab, handed the driver $40 to get me home and then leaned down into the back seat, his face hovering in front of mine.
“I had fun,” he whispered.
“Me too,” I said.
Then he kissed me.
Part Three, next week….