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Mason sat at the table in the corner, beer bottle clenched tightly in his hand as he watched the dancefloor. Watching the door was next to impossible, so he didn't bother to try. He'd been here every friday night for the last 4 weeks, hoping to find Her again. A smile curved his lips as he thought of Devyn, the little red haired spitifre he'd met a month ago. Her friend, Cira, had been a hot one too, but no one compared to Devyn in his mind. She was the best sex he'd ever had, and he wanted to have it again. And again, and again, until he worked her out of his system, out of his dreams, out of his thoughts. As he watched the drunk dancers, memories flitted through his head, the smell of her, the feel of her, the look on her face when he made her come, like she was going to die and enjoy doing it. A flash of red hair caught his attention, and he turned in his seat to get a better look. A girl was out on the floor, dancing with her back to him, facing two guys who looked like they were enjoying the show. Her hair was indeed red, and the same length he remembered so well. The body, and its movements, were similar also. Mason left the half drunk beer on the table and fought his way throught the crowd to the edge of the dancefloor. He stood there for a few minutes, watching her move, just barely holding himself in check, folding his arms across his chest as though it would calm his pounding heart. No matter how much he willed it, she would not turn around, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. He edged onto the floor, trying to avoid contact with the dancers he passed, as he worked his way to her. Mason came up behind her, put his hands on her waist and started to move with her, his ...

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