DiscothequeBody Heat

1974, Monte Carlo: Jimmy'z She sang "C'est vous.” It’s you, she whispered. Her amber eyes lingered, her palm on his arm. They were pressed between bodies, dripping in sweat and suede fringe. Sapphire droplets, and quick stolen glances, her lips that tasted of espresso black chocolate. Their wrists intertwined as they started to move. A tryst that began in a cedarwood booth on the French Riviera on a hot night in June. His hands grabbed her waist, his breath warm on her neck like soft burning sage. From first song to last, they danced through the night, their skin flush from a crush and marked with a bite.