Temptation

They stood close together in the narrow hallway of the club, waiting for their friend to get back from the bathroom. They leaned in slightly towards each other. The obvious attraction and desire festering in the space between them. It was late and the light from the club illuminated from behind them. The music a pulsing beat in their ears, though the two of them didn’t hear it anymore. A question hung between their faces. Who would make the first move? Will they, wont they? Their mutual friend complicated the matter even more so. They could just leave her and go out together: follow each other to the hotel room that was on both of their minds.

            Over the course of the night, light searching touches had sensually explored her braless back, and she had let him. A delight shivering over her skin. The barrier of propriety, of the rings that curled around their left-hand fingers, of betrayal halted any course of action. But she wanted it. The moment she’d looked into his handsome face and instantly felt the attraction there. He knew it too. He could see it across the table. Their mutual friend in the middle of them obliviously introducing them for the first time. He’d extended his hand over to her’s and they’d touched looking into each other’s eyes, searching.

            And she had let him whisper into her ear, feeling the heat of his chest against her shoulder, his lips brushing her hair, her breath catching; her face tilted slightly up to his, her lips begging for an unfamiliar touch. The thrill of someone new. He’d gazed down. Wanting the delicate contact.

            They’d talked of their spouses, as if trying to remember their lives, which felt so distance from this moment. Everything felt so far away in the dim hallway as the waited.

            Before he’d casually asked where she was staying. Their mutual friend answered for her: she was staying with her of course, on a twin bed in their small hostel room. No privacy there. A fact, landing widening the trench of their desire, shielding them from doing something that they couldn’t take back. A shield from what might be.

            She could imagine it all. She could see it in her mind’s eye: what would happen if she closed the gap. If she stepped closer, would he do the same? Would they? Even if it was a kiss—or they could excuse themselves to the bathroom, insist that they wanted to stay at the club and lose their mutual friend in the crowd and find her later after—

            And then their friend was back, and they were moving down the steps to another bar. Not wanting the night to finish. Insisting on going somewhere else because they’d wanted to stay in each other’s company. One more round, siting close together, letting their legs gently meet against one another’s.

            And then the bar closed. And the night was over. And they were safe from what could have been. Her friend taking her arm leading her away from him. Him watching them go: a mixture of disappointment and relief clicking in his steps as he walked the other way, back to his empty hotel room. They’d never see each other again. They were safe. They would go back to their lives and leave this night buried, and soon they would forget the night they’d met in the city of gothic churches and red lights.