look away, but I can’t.
“Ouch!” I yelp as I feel a pinch on my leg. I turn, scowling, to Sherry. “What did you do that for?”
“I know the bet is to get you laid, but not in the first ten minutes. I want to have a little fun first.” The man walks between us and the next table, and I swear I feel a hand run lightly across the back of my ass. I hear a chair scrape backwards. “Don’t look now, but he’s sitting at the next table facing us,” whispers Sherry. She doesn’t have to tell me. I can feel his eyes boring into my back.
I see a waitress approach his table, and someone ordered beers all round. I know it was him. That voice is liquid velvet—it can only be him—it fits the body to perfection.
“I’m going to get some drinks,” says Sherry.
“I’m still drinking this,” I reply, indicating my beer.
“Well, drink up. Dutch courage and all.”
“I don’t need Dutch courage!” I say, but I’m talking to myself. Sherry has already left the table. She’s left me alone in a bar full of leather-clad testosterone. Great, just great!
I hear a chair scape backwards again, but this time it’s much closer. Closer, as in at our table. Oh god, Sherry, hurry up . I turn my head briefly towards the bar and see Sherry flirting with a Jon Bon Jovi lookalike.
“I think she’s busy,” the velvet voice says. Just hearing that voice, I can feel my nipples tighten and a dampening start in my panties. “Hopefully Donga will keep her busy for a while.”
“D-donga?” I stutter like a prepubescent schoolgirl. I can’t look at him; I know that if I do I’m lost.
“The guy talking to your friend. Don’t worry, she won’t be disappointed. He’s not named that for nothing.”
Okay—I can’t resist glancing at him—so sue me! What can I say; I’m weak! I stare at him with a blank expression and then it hits me. Oh…my…god! He’s talking about the size of the guy’s penis! I try to look casual and nonchalant, but those eyes—the deepest blue I had ever seen, the color of the deepest ocean. I’m getting lost in those eyes. What would it be like to wake up to those eyes? Come on girl, snap out of it. At least play a little hard to get, I chastise myself. Any minute now I’m going to have to roll my tongue back into my mouth.
“She’s just getting some drinks. She’ll be back in a minute I’m sure,” I finally reply, trying my best to sound casual.
“Not if Donga wants to keep his reputation, she won’t.”
“She’s not like that—she’s sensible. She’ll be back in a minute.” Yeah, right! Who am I trying to convince, him or myself? Of course she won’t come back. If she gets even a hint of an easy quick lay she’ll forget all about me until she gets a small twinge of guilt after about her…fourth or fifth orgasm. Now what do I do? So now I have to decide how much I want an all-expenses-paid vacation. Coward or slut? Which is it going to be?
Okay, the vacation appeals to me, as does the man. So how am I going to start? This is Sherry’s area of expertise, not mine. Small talk maybe, but I can’t imagine him engaging in a conversation about the weather. I’d flirt if I knew how, but it would probably end up looking like something in a cheap porn film. Maybe if I act a bit more like Sherry would. Goodness knows I’ve witnessed her methods too many times to count.
I return to reality as a beer hits the table in front of me, clinking against the one that I’m holding in a death grip. While I was deep in my own thoughts, he ordered more drinks. Looking up, I see him staring at me, an amused look on his face. Looking away isn’t an option; I seem to be caught in those eyes—or “drowning” is probably a better description.
Okay, maybe his face isn’t as angelic as I first thought. No angel would have such an amused smirk on his face. So smug, like he knows I’m going to be the next notch on his bedpost. But there’s no harm looking, is there?
Dark hair, cut just
“Ouch!” I yelp as I feel a pinch on my leg. I turn, scowling, to Sherry. “What did you do that for?”
“I know the bet is to get you laid, but not in the first ten minutes. I want to have a little fun first.” The man walks between us and the next table, and I swear I feel a hand run lightly across the back of my ass. I hear a chair scrape backwards. “Don’t look now, but he’s sitting at the next table facing us,” whispers Sherry. She doesn’t have to tell me. I can feel his eyes boring into my back.
I see a waitress approach his table, and someone ordered beers all round. I know it was him. That voice is liquid velvet—it can only be him—it fits the body to perfection.
“I’m going to get some drinks,” says Sherry.
“I’m still drinking this,” I reply, indicating my beer.
“Well, drink up. Dutch courage and all.”
“I don’t need Dutch courage!” I say, but I’m talking to myself. Sherry has already left the table. She’s left me alone in a bar full of leather-clad testosterone. Great, just great!
I hear a chair scape backwards again, but this time it’s much closer. Closer, as in at our table. Oh god, Sherry, hurry up . I turn my head briefly towards the bar and see Sherry flirting with a Jon Bon Jovi lookalike.
“I think she’s busy,” the velvet voice says. Just hearing that voice, I can feel my nipples tighten and a dampening start in my panties. “Hopefully Donga will keep her busy for a while.”
“D-donga?” I stutter like a prepubescent schoolgirl. I can’t look at him; I know that if I do I’m lost.
“The guy talking to your friend. Don’t worry, she won’t be disappointed. He’s not named that for nothing.”
Okay—I can’t resist glancing at him—so sue me! What can I say; I’m weak! I stare at him with a blank expression and then it hits me. Oh…my…god! He’s talking about the size of the guy’s penis! I try to look casual and nonchalant, but those eyes—the deepest blue I had ever seen, the color of the deepest ocean. I’m getting lost in those eyes. What would it be like to wake up to those eyes? Come on girl, snap out of it. At least play a little hard to get, I chastise myself. Any minute now I’m going to have to roll my tongue back into my mouth.
“She’s just getting some drinks. She’ll be back in a minute I’m sure,” I finally reply, trying my best to sound casual.
“Not if Donga wants to keep his reputation, she won’t.”
“She’s not like that—she’s sensible. She’ll be back in a minute.” Yeah, right! Who am I trying to convince, him or myself? Of course she won’t come back. If she gets even a hint of an easy quick lay she’ll forget all about me until she gets a small twinge of guilt after about her…fourth or fifth orgasm. Now what do I do? So now I have to decide how much I want an all-expenses-paid vacation. Coward or slut? Which is it going to be?
Okay, the vacation appeals to me, as does the man. So how am I going to start? This is Sherry’s area of expertise, not mine. Small talk maybe, but I can’t imagine him engaging in a conversation about the weather. I’d flirt if I knew how, but it would probably end up looking like something in a cheap porn film. Maybe if I act a bit more like Sherry would. Goodness knows I’ve witnessed her methods too many times to count.
I return to reality as a beer hits the table in front of me, clinking against the one that I’m holding in a death grip. While I was deep in my own thoughts, he ordered more drinks. Looking up, I see him staring at me, an amused look on his face. Looking away isn’t an option; I seem to be caught in those eyes—or “drowning” is probably a better description.
Okay, maybe his face isn’t as angelic as I first thought. No angel would have such an amused smirk on his face. So smug, like he knows I’m going to be the next notch on his bedpost. But there’s no harm looking, is there?
Dark hair, cut just
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