It Felt Like A Good Idea At The Time
As a teenager, we had a place called the Barn, where we would go to a session, a music bash where reggae music could be heard from miles away. The place would become hot from the sexy bodies of young ladies and teenage boys with their hormones racing a mile a minute. Getting to dance with a woman up close and personal out right terrified me. But on this night, I was going to find a girl and dance with her if it killed me.
It all would start with all our backs against the wall and our butts bouncing off the walls to the rhythm of the reggae beat. Some folk drinking bear others soft soda and the like. I happened to be drinking water with a lot of ice in the cup. Soon it became notice to me that in that hot room, a little air from my mouth gave me a chill on my arms and hands that made me feel nice and refreshed. I began to do it more and more as the heat rose in the room. One song after another, there I was with my crushed ice and dancing looking for my chance to run it up with a sexy momma.
I saw one nice girl looking like she would be a nice one to dance with and trembled up to her leaving the empty cup and my fears partly behind. Asking her to dance was the easy part, waiting for her responds all but killed me, but when she said yes and moved towards me, everything from then on went in slow motion. I was in heaven, in the reggae section. This soft girl had me around the waste with her titties moving over my chest like they wanted to know me too. Over whelmed, all I could think was to repay her for this kindness, so an idea came to me to cool her off with the cool breeze from my mouth. The trouble at that time was basic, but not realized to me, till some years later. The ice had melted two songs before I had even seen the girl, and the breath that I was blowing on her neck was more like the dragon she produced when she said yes to me.
There I was in a dark smoky room with a perfect stranger, blowing hot air on her neck and doing it with the pride of a make shift lover. I felt so proud of myself so that as I pulled her closer for more effect, I became somewhat dumb founded when she left me like an escaping. No!, it was my first and last dance, and I never did understand what went wrong or why. Only years later, when I saw someone pointing at me and whispering there goes that guy who blew hot air on so and so's neck. The horror, and the embarrassment, pushed the bushman in me into over drive, and I am now who I am today, cause that night at the Burn felt like a good idea at the time
I never really danced with a girl ever since, and still feel creepy thinking about it. How could one person be so stupid, and so brave at the same time. I must admit, that lady felt good enough to be my first and last, and the touch and go was enough to last me a lifetime.
