...Brandi selected another CD and loaded it, waiting while the first strains of the music began. The two young men took chairs to one side and perched on the edges, stiff as a couple of mummies. The first notes of a flamenco piece drifted gently into the warm morning air. Brandi began to move—slow, subtle steps, pausing to arch her back, standing on her tiptoes. With her eyes almost shut, she could imagine herself in the Spain of her distant ancestors, moving around a gypsy campfire in one of the caves of Malaga. Instead of the black leotard, she would be wearing a flounced gown of scarlet, fitted to the hips, where it then erupted in a mass of tiered ruffles.

She raised her arms over her head, jingling an imaginary tambourine. Gradually, the tempo built, and her pace with it, faster now and bolder. From the shadows in the cave, hot masculine eyes watched her. Every move she made told them she could be had, but it would take a man among men, the strongest, bravest and most daring of them all.

She risked a swift glance at Darren and Darryl. They both watched her as avidly as her imagined audience, mouths open as they breathed in quick pants, eyes dilated as they followed her increasingly suggestive movements and gestures.

The one she thought was Darren, who’d done most of the talking, swayed in his chair, moving with the music. She was sure he had no idea what he was doing. He fixed his gaze on her, hardly blinking in his intent stare. She drifted across to him and held out one hand.

“Dance with me,” she said. She spoke in a quiet voice, scarcely above a whisper, the sound little more than an extension of the music.

Obedient to desires stronger than a short life’s worth of admonitions, he stood, following her to the center of the room. She swayed, sinuous as a snake, and moved around him, just short of touching. In a shimmy, her butt almost grazed the growing erection that strained at the fabric of his worn overalls. He shifted on his heels, rocking and twisting to follow her around, keeping his front to her. So close and yet not close enough. She could read the thought in his face. Oh, how he wanted her…

I would almost bet these boys are virgins. Her smile widened. But they won’t be when they leave.

She reached to place one hand on his shoulder. Light as a leaf, she let it rest against the coarse fabric of his shirt. She could feel the heat of muscle beneath the fabric, the tension that radiated from his whole being. She trailed her fingertips down his arm, still keeping the touch light, barely enough to be felt. She could hear the heavy gasps of his breath; felt the warm air puff out across her face.

Whirling, she flounced her billowing skirts and tossed her head. In the firelight, her golden hoop earrings flashed like fire. All the men wanted her, but she would choose the lucky one. Who would be her partner tonight? Or might there be more than one?

Brandi let her imaginary scene fade, returning to the intriguing present. Circling the room, she paused before the other young man. “Join us,” she murmured. “The music is calling to you. The Great One made man and woman, two halves of a whole. There is joy and honor in bringing those parts together. We honor his gift with our pleasure.”

Darryl blinked, hesitated, but then he stood. From his expression and that action, she knew she had him. He grew bolder and reached to take her hand. The three of them linked hands in a circle and moved clockwise, sidestepping to the rising crescendo of the music.