0 comments/ 12660 views/ 1 favorites Tango By: KennedyFlynn Tango Meredith liked Thursday nights best of all. On Thursday night, she joined her best buddy, Ron, at Dames, a small lesbian bar with a dance floor. It was there she had met Ron & discovered her natural ability for Tango a year ago. Anymore, Ron & Meredith had an audience of fans who appreciated their abilities. They usually cleared the dance floor by the end of the evening, having won the admiration from those who would share the stage with them. Tonight was no different. She dressed carefully, sliding her black seamed stockings up each firm calf. She slid the slinky black dress over her hips, making sure the slit fell at just the right place. Then, the shoes fit for Tango, a substantially strong shoe, but strappy enough to be sexy, with a 3" heel. At 5'3", she could afford to wear them. Ron was 6'1". She brushed her hair back into a tight chignon at the beginning of her long, lovely neck, & placed simple stands of jet on each ear. She arrived at Dames & the club was full. She looked straight ahead & held her chin up slightly as she felt heads turn in recognition. Some patrons spoke to her & she turned & nodded her hello, but kept the aloof persona as was her manner of preparation for the Tango. As always, Ron was waiting for her at the edge of the dance floor, watching her approach. He smiled, enjoying her attitude. They kissed hello, but had little time for chat. As if on cue, the DJ announced a Tango. Ron's hand extended toward Meredith & they walked onto the dance floor with a dozen or so additional couples. Most of the patrons gathered around the dance floor, the reputation of Tango Night having gained momentum. The couples danced seemingly casually at first, the obvious novices remaining on the edge of the worn parquet floor. But as usual, Meredith & Ron gravitated to the center, oblivious to all around them, except the pulsating music of Tango, mesmerizing the audience into silence. They watched the couple ~ sinuous and concentrated ~ as they continued, Meredith surrendering to the subtle signals of her partner in their private universe of the dance. Many of the on-lookers, knowing the strong-willed Meredith, were as intrigued with her ability to submit as they were with her ability to Tango. She leaned into Ron, her leg drawn up to his as if she would climb him, and the music ended, their eyes locked. There was a moment when it seemed no one was breathing. Ron and Meredith appeared frozen, except for their heaving chests. They smiled and their audience applauded insanely. The other couples strolled off the floor with them to grab a quick drink while the DJ played some intermittent music, allowing the dancers to catch their collective breaths. As Ron & Meredith laughed and chatted with several other dancers, a tall, dark & striking woman stepped up to Meredith. Meredith was oblivious and continued chattering away and didn't notice anything until everyone stopped talking and she followed their gaze. Standing slightly behind her was perhaps the most handsome butch woman Meredith had ever seen. Her eyes widened as the woman's eyes burned into hers. Another Tango was announced and the woman looked at Ron. He placed Meredith's hand in hers, without a word spoken, knowing his permission was really not what she needed. Ron glanced at Meredith to see if she would be ok with this and smiled as he saw that Meredith's eyes were still fixated on this Stranger's face. The Stranger held her hand up and Meredith allowed herself to be led onto the floor, the eyes of Ron and all the others on this woman who appeared so confident. She slowly walked Meredith around and pulled one hand up as the other went to Meredith's waist. "Do You know what You're doing?" Meredith's voice, barely audible. The Stranger just smiled & stepped back, allowing Meredith to lean into her. A few moments later, Meredith forgot her question as she danced with this woman, the Tango seeming to melt them together as if they'd been dancing together forever. They began with small, delicate steps, an initial swivel, and then their steps, as their bodies became familiar, grew more complicated. Ron watched the two, as he noted that Meredith followed this woman better than she ever followed him. He smiled as he watched them watch each other. The look they exchanged was that of playful complicity, an extraordinary seduction. It was not lost on anyone else who studied them. In fact, so remarkable was this experience, there were only two other couples brave enough to share the floor with them. For Meredith, she felt herself becoming lost in this woman's eyes....felt her body melting into the Stranger's body, her very touch burning into her skin. And they danced. And the people watched. What they saw were two women totally lost in each other, devouring one another, their eyes never leaving the other ~ except when Meredith chose to be dramatic and her gestures demanded that her eyes drop to the floor in submission. What began as Tango, became Sex On The Dance Floor. Ron noticed that he was not the only one who found himself aroused by this vision before them. Meredith knew she was wet. The Stranger knew Meredith was wet. She was greedy for her scent, pulling Meredith to her body with a strength that made Meredith gasp slightly. She dreaded hearing the final refrain of the Tango, yet it came. The Stranger held Meredith's raised thigh firmly against her own, staring down at her. And then, Meredith took note of the only time the Stranger's eyes left her own, as she glanced down at her full and slightly parted lips. The sound of the frenzied applause drew them back to reality. The Stranger released Meredith's leg, allowing it to slide slowly to the floor. She led Meredith back to Ron, faced her speechless partner and brought Meredith's hand to her lips, brushing it with a kiss. "Gracias, Senorita Meredith," the Stranger said softly. She turned and walked away, through the parting crowd. Meredith gasped. She knew her name! And a tear fell down her cheek as she watched the Stranger disappear out the door. Ron's voice was in her ear, "GO! Find that woman!" And Meredith found herself hurrying toward the door and falling out onto the sidewalk. She looked to the left....to the right....gone! She gasped, "NO!" thinking she might have lost her. She stopped. The energy she felt almost made her afraid to turn, but she managed to do so. There, in the shadow of the tree-lined street, stood the Stranger, having also turned around. Ron stood at the door, watching them walk slowly toward one another, knowing smiles on both of their faces, and found himself crying for joy over Meredith's discovery. And they held one another in the shadows of the tree-lined street. ~Kennedy Flynn Tango with a Vampire This story is my contribution to the Halloween contest. I'd appreciate your vote and any comments you'd care to leave. * "Good evening." The voice interrupted her daydreaming but that was fine with her. According to the clock ringed in neon over the bar, Halloween would be over in less than an hour. Midnight. The witching hour. The hour when things were not always as they appeared to be. She turned to the guy on the stool to her right. He was in costume, of course. They all were. Dark, dark hair and oddly mesmerizing eyes. Deep and mysterious, she found herself instantly drawn to them and then into them. His eyes were such a stark contrast to his skin. Pale, almost pearly white in the dim light of the bar. He was wearing a rather shabby black suit, cut in an old-fashioned style. A scent of something she didn't quite recognize clung to the wool of his suit jacket. "So, are you a princess?" She was a bit taken aback by his remark. Her costume was a pretty accurate reproduction of the one Billie Burke wore in The Wizard of Oz, complete with the tall crown she wore and the wand she carried. She'd spent weeks sewing rhinestones and pearls onto the yards and yards of pink tulle. All night long she'd been bombarded by comments about good witches and flying monkeys. She sighed. If he wanted to pretend he didn't know who she was, she could play along. That's what Halloween was for, after all. Masks and moonlight. Costumes and kisses. Playing and pretense. "Every girl is a princess tonight," she replied, taking a small sip of her drink. "We have not been formally introduced as of yet, but if I may be so bold as to introduce myself. I am Cou...," he hesitated for a brief moment and then continued, "Connor." He had a slight trace of an accent the woman couldn't quite place. He was also more formal in his speech than she might have expected. "My name is Rosie," she replied, holding out her hand. He took it and brought it slowly up to his lips. Both his hand and his lips seemed unusually cool to her touch. A tiny little shiver went through Rosie as his mouth brushed the back of her hand. This was somehow both old-fashioned and out of place, yet it seemed rather fitting and second nature to him. Rosie smiled and turned back to her drink. She was shy as a rule and spent most of her nights at home with her cat. Normally she would never have ventured in here, but they'd been advertising this party for weeks. Rosie loved to play dress-up and to pretend to be someone she was not. Tonight seemed like the perfect opportunity to do both. "Ah, they are playing a tango. My favorite. I so seldom hear one these days. Would you honor me with a dance, Princess Rosie?" He stood and bowed slightly, a courtly gesture that reminded Rosie of those classic black and white horror movies she often watched late into the night. As they made their way out onto the dance floor, Rosie was once again struck by how cold his hands were. Perhaps he'd had them wrapped around a chilled bottle of beer. Funny, she thought to herself. She didn't remember him having a drink in front of him. She hadn't seen him drink anything at all. They danced together. Dance sliding into a seduction accompanied by the sensual rhythms of the music. An innocent and one whose innocence had been stolen years, no, decades before. The tempo of the song changed and still they danced in each other's arms. One hearing the song of the musicians, the other hearing the music of the blood pulsing through veins and singing with an age-old rhythm. The mind of the vampire reached out, a tentative touch, the next step in the seduction of the victim initiated hours before. "Ah. A pretty girl in my arms. It seems like years since I have danced with one as radiant as you are this evening." She listened to his tone, more than the words themselves, trying to place his accent. It was more pronounced now and she thought she detected something else, a lisp, perhaps. She hadn't noticed it before as they sat at the bar, but now, as she danced, held in his embrace, it was definitely there. I wonder where he's from, she thought. She smiled up at him, once again marveling at his alabaster complexion and his eyes. She felt almost compelled to look in Connor's eyes. She could very easily lose herself in them, she thought. Fall deeper and deeper into their depths until all was lost forever. Rosie lost track of the steps, almost stumbling before Connor caught her in his surprisingly strong embrace. The vampire's eyes met the innocent's eyes and held them, a heartbeat, an eternity, before contact was lost as the soft lights of the bar intensified into full brightness. They blinked in the light; almost a glare after the cool dimness of the dance floor, of the seduction began by the tango and continued by the dances that followed. She smiled up at him and thanked him for the dances. As he returned the smile, she caught a glimpse of his teeth, their odd shape, before Connor closed his lips over them and she could see no more. "The night grows old and sunrise soon awaits, even on an occasion as pleasant as this one has proven itself to be. I fear I must soon bid you farewell, sweet Rosie." He bowed, deep from the waist. "If I may be so bold as to offer my service as an escort from this place. This," he indicated a door barely visible down a short hallway, "will avoid the crush at the front entrance." Rosie curtseyed in return and took his proffered arm. "I'd be delighted. That way will be better for me, too." "I must warn you, Princess Rosie. I intend to steal a kiss from you." His accent, his lisp, was more apparent than it had been earlier in the evening. "You can't steal one from me this evening, Connor. My kiss will be freely given." She stepped aside as Connor opened the emergency door that lead into the dark alley behind the bar. "My, it is quite dark out here," the innocent one cautioned. "Watch your step." The vampire needed no such warning, quite able to make out the chosen prey in the dark shadows of the alley. They walked a few more steps into the darkest section of their way. "And now," whispered Connor, taking Rosie into his embrace, "would be a perfect time for that kiss." His arms tightened around her and he leaned down towards her face. Rosie tilted her face to meet his lips, her fingers curled into his hair. His lips met hers, a brief sweet kiss that seemed to last an eternity, and, indeed, for one of them it did. For the other it was merely the beginning of a ritual practiced for years, often in settings very similar to the one they were in. The kiss continued, changing into something more intense. Kisses glided down the unaware innocent's jaw and the vampire's fangs extended as the sweet fragrance of the prey's vitality filled the air. At last the vampire could hold back no longer and clasping the victim's face in a surprisingly firm grip, bit down. As Rosie sunk her fangs deep into his throat, his rich red blood coursing through her, she thought to herself, "Oh, yes! The wannabes always taste the sweetest!" Tango's Testimonials One of my all time favorite movies is The Wizard of Oz. And my favorite character is, without a doubt, the Scarecrow. Not only can he contort himself into all sorts of crazy sex positions, but he also doesn't have a brain. Now, as we women know, most men think with their cocks and not their brains, anyway. But someone who would "wile away the hours, conferring with the flowers..."? How easy to manipulate and control. And the combination of extreme flexibility and no brains? Um, hello? Major and multiple orgasms. But be mindful, for sure...certainly, no candles to set the mood. Just keep him away from fire and he would be good to go! But funnily enough, I have much more in common with the heart-less Tin Man. Not that I'm heartless (although, if I am being honest, I'm sure quite a few former boyfriends would say otherwise). Not only do I need oil on occasion, just like the Tin Man, to lube myself up, I also share something that the Tin Man receives at the end of the movie. A testimonial. As you remember, the Great and Powerful Oz (a man who looks like he has a 3 inch cock – erect – if there ever was one) doles out to the weary travelers what each one thinks he or she wants/needs. To the Tin Man, the Wizard bestows, in the shape of a red, heart-shaped ticking cock (um... clock), a testimonial. As it turns out, I too, have a testimonial, although of a very different kind. Actually, it's testimonials. Plural. I have...um...a few. Slightly more. OK, I have over 20 fucking (verb, not adjective) testimonials; probably more, even. I kind of stopped counting after 20. And to think that only a short month ago, I had absolutely no idea what a testimonial even was. Then I joined Snatchmaker, an online sex site, and I found out rather quickly. Snatchmaker had promised a ratio of 5 men for every one woman. They clearly underestimated. I was getting, in response to my profile, upwards of 100 emails a week. There certainly was a lot from which to choose, that was for sure. But, conversely, there were also a lot to wade through before you got to the good ones. I decided to take the plunge and dive right in. Act now, think later...typical Tango. Mr.Maxxx was one of the first men I met after joining Snatchmaker. We had an immediate connection (translation: intense pounding in many positions resuting in me cumming so hard I saw stars) Per Fuckbunny protocol, I kicked Mr. Maxxx out and I went to sleep. The next morning I signed on to my Snatchmaker account...and there, at the bottom of my profile, was a header which said Testomonials, underneath which was Mr. Maxxx's profile picture, along with this quote: It takes two to tango and you'll thoroughly enjoy this firecracker! Tango is one hot horizontal dance. Highly recommend! What? What was this? I did a quick search through random profiles and found that testimonials were a desired commodity. The more, the better. They were formal recognition of a job well done. Being a rather self confident individual, I initially ignored the whole testimonial deal. I needed no affirmation about my amazing prowess and creativity when it came to fucking. But I am an adventurous sort. I decided to experiment. That night, I met with Karate guy for the first time. He was physically not my type, but when he took his clothes off...well let's just say he could split wood without using his hands. Amazingly, Karate guy was quite gentle with me...until I told him to slam me against the wall, pull my hair, yank my head back and fuck my brains out. And, indeed, the next morning: On a scale of 1 – 10, Tango is a 20. She knows what she wants and she certainly knows how to get it. I was just along for the ride...and what a ride! Cool! This was like the Academy Awards or Grammys of fucking, and I was nominated in all categories! It made me perform to the best of my ability with every guy I met. And always, the next day, there would appear another glowing testimonial. Snatchmaker did allow its users the option to hide their testimonials, but the impression I got just from the short time I had been a member was that testimonials were akin to notches on a belt...or a bed post. I have to admit I was initially proud and a bit cocky (pun intended). Affirmation in any skill can be quite heady and even addictive. I found I was fucking guys just so they would write me a glowing review...um...I mean testimonial. And then one day, at the gym, I was on the treadmill when two hot men came in; one of whom looked a bit familiar. They began talking as they spotted each other lifting weights. "So you just joined Snatchmaker?" asked the familiar one. "Yeah, been on there about a week. I already have something set up with this hot red headed chick, who has, like, 30 testimonials. All about how she can suck the chrome off an exhaust pipe... can't wait to get some of that!" "A red head?" replied Familiar Guy. "Her name wouldn't happen to be Tango, would it?" "Yes!" the other exclaimed. "Do you know her?" "Dude, I know her in the biblical sense, catch my meaning? Just remember to get a good night's sleep the night before and bring plenty of rubbers!" I quietly stepped off the treadmill and ran out of the gym and to my car. Was this testimonial thing starting to get out of control? To hide my testimonials or to not hide my testimonials....that was the question. I asked my friend Justin Satiable for his advice. "Leave them posted," Justin advised. "After all, you read a review before buying a book or seeing a movie, don't you?" Good point. I would leave them posted. But my mind kept returning to the discussion I had overheard in the gym. I began to notice things I hadn't before - that the more testimonials I received, the more the quality of the men who responded to my profile declined. Almost in direct proportion. Granted, no one on a sex site is a Proust, or Tolstoy...but a typical email after I posted my testimonials went something like this: "Can cover u in cum do you like that big fat cummy thick dick?" "r u craveing (sic) that amazing head?" Somehow, emails such as these do not make me moist. I went back to Justin. Were my testimonials to blame for the decline in quality cock? "Hmmm...I guess maybe they are", he said. "The really good men probably feel intimidated that they won't measure up (tee hee), or scared that you'll either devour them whole, or, after fucking them, bite their heads off like a female praying mantis." "Most men would love to be devoured whole," I retorted. But I could see Justin's point. I decided that I didn't need sycophants. What I needed were strong hard cocks. What to do??? It appeared to be too late, however. Apparently the word about the Amazing Tango had gotten out on Snatchmaker and traveled like wild fire. The emails kept pouring in...more men wanted to fuck me now than ever. "I would love the chance to show you my moves," wrote 2rock hard4most. "Meet me and I'll show you them...and more!" The more emails I received, the more I started feeling like 7/Eleven: open all the time. Also, that I might not live up to expectations. Take, for example, the email I received from lickuallnight69: "My friend told me about you and your testimonials speak for themselves. Now all I want to do is eat and fuck you I would write grate (sic) things about you! God your (sic) awesome! Let's get together sometime. Let me try to make you shake uncontrollably. " Argh! What had I gotten myself in to? I didn't want the responsibility of living up to Mr. Lick's, or anyone's expectations of me as the ultimate wet dream. And all that that entails. It was time - time to hide my testimonials. Maybe I have more in common with the Tin Man than I had initially thought. As the Wizard says, when bestowing the testimonial upon the Tin Man, "A heart is not judged by how much you love; but by how much you are loved by others." I think Oz was onto something... I finally realized that sometimes being loved by TOO many others can be too fucking much. And if I had to go looking for affirmation on Snatchmaker, I never really had it in the first place. But you know what? There certainly is no other place like Snatchmaker. Tango's Twilight Zone I had been corresponding with K, for about a week, through Snatchmaker, an online sex site I had recently joined. I had even called him (something I rarely-to-never do) and we had chatted easily and made vague plans to meet (translation: fuck our brains out). Then...nothing. I hadn't really noticed because I get a lot of emails; hundreds per week. But then, yesterday, I received this: Dear Tango, sorry I haven't given you a call like I said I would. I have read your testimonials and I just don't think we would click. I am not looking for one-time hookups or multiple sex partners. I know it probably sounds weird since Snatchmaker is a sex site but that is just how I am. Sorry if you feel like I wasted your time. I just wanted to be honest with you. How fucked up is that? He was APOLOGIZING for not wanting a one night stand or multiple sex partners. That's when I knew I had entered Tango's Twilight Zone. Tango's Twilight Zone is a surreal alternative universe where orgies, sex cams, and debauchery of all types are the norm and monogamy and polite sex are as rare as natural tits in a porno movie. I am not a stranger to this Twilight Zone. On several occasions I have received emails from guys who write like they know me, but for the life of me I have absolutely no recollection of who they are. Absolutely no memory. I'll look at the user name and try to figure out who the person is, but on sex sites, user names tend to blend into one: bigcock4u269, 2hungnhard4u69, bigcock2hungnhard4u69, etc. And not everyone posts a picture on his profile. And if they do, it's usually a cock shot. And, after awhile...well...seen one cock, seen them all, you know? I try to figure out who the dude is by looking through my email trash and sent folders, but...like I said...I get TONS of emails. The only thing I can do is to ask the guy point blank: "This sounds bad", I email back, "but have we fucked?" The sharp ones (and there are some very very smart guys on this site) usually respond, "T, if I had fucked you, you can be damn sure you would remember me." Smart, huh? Tango's Twilight Zone also includes incidents where I have double booked. OH YES. Having ADD, I'm not the most organized person, especially if I'm dealing with more than 3 - 5 things. Thus one Friday night, I had showered and put on my "New Guy" outfit...the outfit I always wore when meeting a new fuckbuddy for the first time: black camisole, tight stretchy tiger print mini skirt (which sits on my hips JUST RIGHT), lavender cardigan and 4" spike heeled fuck-me mules and sandalwood body oil. I was waiting for the Accountant to show up at 8:15pm, the specified Fuckbunny time. At 8:00pm sharp, the door bell rang. I rushed to the door, opened it....and there was Karate Guy. I had seen Karate Guy for the first time 2 weeks earlier and we had hit it off (and hit it...twice!) and had made subsequent plans, I thought, to meet again this Saturday at 8:00pm. Oops. BIG oops. Karate guy noticed my "New Guy" outfit (which, of course, I had worn when I met him for the first time 2 weeks ago) and quickly figured out what the deal was. I don't lie, so I confirmed to Karate Guy exactly what he had suspected...that I had gotten the days wrong and was actually expecting someone else - another "New Guy". But...OMFG, Karate Guy looked so cute standing there with this expectant puppy-dog smile, all clean and tall and smelling good. And I remembered certain...move he had when he fucked me. I mean....well...what's a Fuckbunny to do? Let's just say that Tango rallied and took care of things with both Karate Guy and Mr. Accountant. Then there was the incident with The Detective. The Detective and I had been emailing back and forth for about a week when he asked for another picture of me. I had recently run a local 5K and I sent him a picture of me crossing the finish line. I was proud of completing the race and I liked the shot of me, crossing the finish line. It showcased my shapely runner's legs and wild red hair. I kind of forgot about sending it to the Detective until, one day at work, I was reminded. A couple of days after sending The Detective the running picture, I received an internal IM at work: "Hi Tango, wanna fuck?" It was from someone whose name I didn't recognize. Shit, I thought....Holy shit. Someone from Snatchmaker had found me out in real life.!!! Looking over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching, I IM'd back: "Who are you, and how did you find out???" The Detective, being a clever man, had accessed the 5K race sponsor's website and looked up my entry number. I was part of a group of people from work who ran as a team...and turns out the Detective and I work for the same company, although not in the same location. "Want to do lunch?" the Detective asked. After the initial shock and fear wore off, I quickly looked up the Detective's profile on Snatchmaker and found his picture. Hell yes I wanted to do....um...lunch...right; lunch. I agreed to meet him, and 15 minutes later we were fucking like rabbits in the woods of a local park which was 5 miles away from my building. Snatchmaker members...we're smart motherfuckers, and we are EVERYWHERE. Tango's Twilight Zone....enter at your own risk....