<http://schema.org/articleBody>
"  When I woke up yesterday morning, my first thought was, tonight&amp;#039;s the night.   Brandon was helping a friend out with a short film, and so the plan was I&amp;#039;d meet him at a jazz club nearby. I&amp;#039;d never been there, but Brandon said it was &amp;quot;cozy,&amp;quot; and one of his favorite places.  After trying on about three-quarters of my closet, I decided on a low-cut grey sweater dress and my black velvet high-heeled boots. I arrived early and decided to head in, grab a table and a drink, and wait.  The club was almost as dark as the stairs leading down to it from the street. I pushed back the heavy red curtain and saw that most of the scattered tables were full, although the voices were just a low murmur over the soft music that came from speakers behind the stage. The band wasn&amp;#039;t playing yet. I scanned the room for an empty table and saw Brandon at a table near the back, engrossed in his Blackberry. I walked over.  &amp;quot;Hey,&amp;quot; I said, and he looked up, surprised. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m early.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Me too,&amp;quot; he said. &amp;quot;Sit. Have a drink.&amp;quot;  I slid into the booth next to him, and our waitress was there immediately. I ordered a red wine, and he ordered a second Johnny Walker.  &amp;quot;You look fantastic,&amp;quot; he said, sitting back to give me a once-over. &amp;quot;Those are easily the hottest boots I&amp;#039;ve ever seen.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Thanks,&amp;quot; I said. &amp;quot;This place is great.&amp;quot;  The band started then, and we quickly became engrossed. It wasn&amp;#039;t just that they were great -- they were -- but the vibe was just electric. There was something sexy about being in a dark underground club with music pulsing through the floor, sitting too close together on a bench covered in thick pillows.  All of this was going through my mind when Brandon reached under the table and started sliding his hand up my skirt. It was so dark that no one would have seen it, and I didn&amp;#039;t want to stop him anyway. His lips grazed my ear, and I kept my face glued to the band as he inched his hand higher, and higher up my leg. I stopped breathing as he found his destination. I turned to him.  &amp;quot;We need to get out of here,&amp;quot; I breathed. &amp;quot;Now.&amp;quot;  We found a cab immediately, and he began kissing me as soon as we got into the back seat.  &amp;quot;Stop it,&amp;quot; I begged. &amp;quot;Wait until we get home.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;You didn&amp;#039;t mind the first time I met you,&amp;quot; he reminded.  &amp;quot;Yeah, but I knew you weren&amp;#039;t coming home with me,&amp;quot; I said, unable to protest as his lips met mine again.  When we got home, we didn&amp;#039;t even bother making it to the bedroom. Our clothes were off the second we got into the door. We settled into the chaise lounge, and every time a naked body part hit the leather, it stuck and made a peeling sound when it came off.  We were in such a hurry that it was over practically before it started, but we were still panting when it was all done. I could feel Brandon&amp;#039;s heart beating through his chest.  &amp;quot;Easily the greatest 30 seconds of my life,&amp;quot; he said right before kissing me, hard.  &amp;quot;You give yourself too much credit,&amp;quot; I smirked. &amp;quot;It was probably closer to 25.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;ll show you 25!&amp;quot; he said, wrestling me down until he was on top of me. We went another round, slower that time, and it was even better than the first.  Mental connection? Check. Emotional? Check. Physical? Check-mate. Yeah, I think it&amp;#039;s safe to say Brandon is a keeper. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.cosmopolitan.com/sex-love/a7859/bedroom-blog-102608/>