Tom was tall and lean, chiseled chin and broad shouldered, with blond hair and blue eyes. He wore jeans even though it was late summer, while Marie, 5...4, brunette with luminescent green eyes wore a sweater (because the AC made the car cold) over a white t-shirt and yellow track shorts. Tom was so yuppie, and Marie so crunchy granola. Tom looked like a Republican surfer, while baby-faced brunette Marie looked a little too young for him, unless you looked at her body—slender with a hint of. She could feel my hard on pressing against her shorts. She started breathing a little heavy as we start to dry hump each other in the middle of the club. Jyothi felt her nipples hardening against the fabric of her short kameez. Both lost track of time, of space. Neither was sure of how long we had been making out. We had both heard several songs sung behind us, but had lost count of the number and who sang them. But neither stopped. We continued to kiss deeply, feeling each other’s body. More

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