Claire watched, wide-eyed and genuinely surprised, as Jai’s mushroom took flight. She let out a little amused laugh at the ridiculous sight, and though she didn’t see where it went, she heard a table toward the door burst out into laughter as someone wiped at the front of their tux. “It’s only the first in a line of things I intend to throw across the room,” she purred, tugging lightly but pointedly at his pant leg under the table.
He seemed eager to get her to bend in response, and the light tracing of his fingers–and not so light massaging–was going a good long way toward that. She unrolled her napkin and made a point of neatly placing her silverware beside the still empty plate. “Is one of those six languages love?” Claire asked in French, face turned away from her brother though he was still engrossed in conversation with the other man. “Because I could give you lessons in that too…” She made no comment on her being graceful though it could’ve easily been turned into a double entendre, choosing instead to give him a lingering look to tide him over until dinner was done.
It went by achingly slow, each nudge and whisper of skin against cloth torture to her already high-strung senses. At last, she finished the last bite of dessert and the band began a slow song, meant more for entertainment than dancing. Nonetheless, Claire felt fit to burst out of her skin if she had to sit and torment herself much longer, and she once again brought her attention to the tall, dark, and handsome number so conveniently close. “I could get them to play something more…lively,” she suggested, one hand eagerly snaking below the table again, as though she were some silly school girl.
“Do you know how to tango? Or would you prefer a waltz?” Fingers drew little circles on his upper thigh, not daring to try anything further if they were going to have to stand shortly.