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And then the lights went out and I'd never known darkness that deep. It's a good job I already had my hand on his cock. I might never have found it otherwise.

They'd said there would be high winds tonight, and the inevitable chance of outages, but it's usually the suburbs that get hit the hardest, and I'd be in the heart of downtown. Besides, who believes weather forecasts any longer? The only blowing I was expecting this evening was... well, I think I've already mentioned that.

So let's talk about the darkness instead. The club itself was never the most brightly lit place in town, unless you count the strobes and the mirror ball, and it's loud enough that you need a voice as loud as a Zeppelin gig even to order a drink at the bar.

Which explains why the only thing I knew about the guy I was dancing with was, he was tall with dark hair that almost reached his shoulders; he looked good in black jeans and a worn leather jacket; and he wasn't shy about being forward. He'd caught my eyes a couple of times as I danced with my best friend Brooke, and she knew me well enough that, the moment we spotted him making his way across the dancefloor, she drifted off to somewhere (or one) else.

No words, just a smile and quizzically raised eyebrow - which I translated as "do you mind if I dance with you?" So I smiled back and there we were, a foot or so apart to begin with, but getting closer depending upon what song was playing, then closer still regardless of the beat we were supposed to be keeping. We'd found our own rhythm fast enough, a soft grind that was just instinctive enough that it wasn't quite sexual, but sexy enough that I didn't even stiffen when he drew me into his arms.

Unlike him, and any ladies in the room will know exactly what I mean when I say that every nerve ending in my body seemed to rush down to that point above my waist that his hard cock was now pressing into.

I pressed back, my hips swaying as I did so, relishing the heat that radiated from that spot, and with my arms looped around his neck for balance, I slowly raised one knee to brush against his balls, rubbing to the rhythm of the music.

His kisses grew harder, and so did his cock, a solid rod that felt as though it could pop the buttons of his jeans. I reached down, my fingers squeezing beneath his waistband, seeking and pressing the tip of his erection. I traced a line with a soft fingertip, smearing the wet that slicked his glans, and I felt him suck in his stomach. My hand sank deeper into the tightness.

Now I had him, my fingers molding themselves around his cock head to squeeze and stroke. He pushed hard against my palm, slicking it thick as his juice continued to flow, and my finger tips teased the ridge beneath it. Our dance now was slow, our tongues entwined and my heart pounding wildly, but I withdrew my hand as I broke the kiss and, gazing fully into his eyes, I raised it to my face and licked my palm.

"Follow me."

I told you the dancefloor was dark, and I knew from experience that there was a lot more than dancing took place in the corners. But I also knew that there were darker places still, if you rounded the stage as though heading to the bathrooms, then turned left instead of right.

The building itself was old, old, old. 1920s, maybe, and local legend reckoned it had once been a brothel. I didn't know how true that was, but there were certainly a lot of twists and turns once you found your way to the heart of the place - passageways and dead-ends, closed doors and old furniture, and not an inch of it lit by anything stronger than a bare low-wattage bulb whose feeble yellow glow barely reached the floor.

I knew my way around there, though, and I also had my favorite hidey-hole, a tattered curtain-draped alcove just a few paces from the back door, and even less well-illuminated than the corridor that led to it. I led him in and, as my eyes accustomed themselves to a darkness that transformed us both into solid silhouettes, I heard the wind for

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