Fugue State by M.C. Adams

waitress unexpectedly brought another. The woman didn’t seem to speak English, and when Alexa tried to hand the glass back, the woman simply pointed to a handsome man sitting at the bar. Alexa’s glance fell on the young man with glossy dark hair and tanned skin. He waved at her as his provocative glance seemed to undress her slowly. He rose from his chair and headed in her direction. She blushed and fumbled with her napkin.
    But his course changed, and he grabbed the hand of a red-headed girl a couple of tables away, and the two began dancing and laughing.
    Alexa’s blush turned to crimson jealousy. She wasn’t used to vying for a man’s attention. Her sips of wine turned to careless gulps. She wanted drunkenness to creep in and wash away the envy. She directed her attention to people-watching elsewhere, but she kept gravitating back to that handsome man. He had a sense of charisma and energy about him that enticed her.
    Another forty-five minutes passed before he approached her. He knelt down at Alexa’s side, grasped her hand, and pulled it close to his cheek.
    “You’re American,” he stated with an alluring French accent.
    “Yes. You speak English.” She had finished her second glass of wine, and her head spun.
    “You’re exquisite,” the Frenchman said. “Come. Let’s dance.”
    Alexa followed her handsome suitor to the dance floor, where he twirled her around. She kicked and dipped and shimmied on the floor. They danced for nearly an hour. He danced with such passion and seduction. Oh, to flirt again is amazing! Lust burned through her veins. As the night came to a close and the music faded, the Frenchman pulled her close for a long, wet kiss. He kissed with his lips, his tongue, and his teeth. His teeth caressed her lips, and the stimulation coursed through her body all the way to her toes. She wanted him. She wanted to feel his hands on her breasts. She wanted to feel their limbs wrapped up in a steamy, knotted embrace.
    He led her out of the bar, and they walked the cobblestone streets, kissing and touching until they stumbled upon Alexa’s hotel, and she froze.
    “This is you?” he asked, and placed his hands low on her hips.
    “Yes,” she whispered.
    The Frenchman placed his lips close to her right ear. “Do you want me to make love to you tonight, mon amour .” Then he kissed her ear and teased her by slowly nibbling on her lobe.
    She wanted to give in. She wanted to say yes to the nameless French suitor, but she couldn’t. In spite of the desire in her bosom, she reserved making love for when she was in love . She wouldn’t let herself go around screwing men precariously. Her mind instantly went to Britt, the only man she had ever loved. The only man who had ever made love to her.
    Alexa broke away from the man’s embrace, and he laughed out loud. “Not tonight, mon amour . Give me your phone. We’ll meet another night.” Alexa handed her cell phone to him and watched him type the name Serge across the screen.
    “Serge, I’m Alexa.” She was embarrassed they hadn’t introduced themselves before.
    A wide grin spread across his warm wet lips. “We’ll meet another night. We’ll go dancing. I’ll teach you to dance.”
    Alexa’s dancing didn’t compare to Serge’s. He had moves she couldn’t match. But she hadn’t realized he was scrutinizing her abilities. She scolded herself, wholly embarrassed by so many of the night’s events.
    “Another night, Serge. I’d like that. I like dancing with you.”
    “Tomorrow night?”
    He pulled her close for one last kiss. He almost made her give in to him.
    “Tomorrow night.” Thank goodness he didn’t pursue things further. He let her go, winked, and walked away.
    She crept up the stairs of her boutique hotel in a mild drunken daze. She slipped off her cocktail dress and wrapped her naked body in the bed sheets. Alexa couldn’t get the thought of Serge’s teeth nibbling on her lips out of her head. She yearned for a man’s