I found true love one night in Beirut
He stands at the bar, scanning the dance floor. The lights are flashing. The music is pulsing outward from the speakers. People sip their drinks and stare at the neon colors dancing on the ground, but few are dancing.
They are there, across the deck. She stands with a group of friends, appearing disinterested in their conversation, checking her phone to distract herself. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark clothes and her body sways to the music, subtly. He stands there, not far from her, but not with her group. Hie eyes shift towards her occasionally, scanning her body, taking in her demeanor.
And he is still on the other side of the deck, eyeing both of them, hoping their eyes will meet his. He imagines a moment, a moment of random chance. They look up. Perhaps he notices him and then she notices them. Or perhaps she notices him and then they notice each other.
They walk towards each other. They meet in the dance floor. The music reaches a crescendo and their bodies move subtly. They don’t speak. They barely breath.
And then it peaks. The beat drops. The mystery drops. Their bodies move together perfectly until they are on the bed, until they are intertwined together, until they are pleasuring her, until she is pleasuring them, until they are pleasuring him, until they are pleasuring him, until they sigh and scream in gasps of elations, orgasmic relief… panting, breathing. Silence. Love?
But he is standing there, by the bar. He is waiting.