"So, this guy just kept on calling me, insisting that the number he was calling was the number this girl at a bar gave him," Andrea was saying. She rolled her eyes. "What a lame line. I finally got Greg to pretend to be the angry boyfriend. That stopped him from calling."
"What a fucking nutcase," I said. "How hard is it to find a decent cute guy in this fucking city?"
"Oh, don't forget single," Didi added in, tapping her plate with her fork. "Single, straight, financially independent, and actually interesting."
"But," I said, stirring my spoon through my soup. "What if he's all that but his dick is small? Or if he's bad in bed? You know, like he's one of those treat-the-tits-like-fruit kind of guy, or a ten-second-Tom?" My girlfriends laughed, Sasha nearly choking on her water.
"Oh, I've had my fair share of ten-second-Toms," Didi said, playing with one of her dreadlocks. "If I meet a guy that jumps the gun in bed but is perfectly suited for me, then he'll be up for some training." She cut a piece of her steak. "But for the small dick thing, you know, its all in how the guy uses it. I mean, I dated this guy that I swear he barely hit the five inch mark but when we fucked, mmm-hmmm, so nice, girls, so nice." She went on with some sordid details and I found myself distracted from my food, more interested on listening and imagining. "But even so, I still like a nice big cock on occasion," Didi added at the end of a particularly steamy story that left me aching for something more than words. "Like Jay, he's got a dick that when he sticks it in me it feels like it's in my throat."
"Give me that over dildos any day," Andrea said. She gave a heavy exaggerated sigh that made her DDs jiggle in the V-frame of her shirt. "Single for just two weeks and I'm already going through withdrawal."
"I got you beat," I said, "Two and a half months." My friends stared at me.
"Are you serious, Kas?" Sasha demanded. I nodded. "Two and half months, holy fuck. I like to keep a nice steady flow of sex going, you know? I have George over most of the week. Who needs sleep?"
I shrugged. "Well, to have sex I need to find a guy first," I told them. "A nice guy. Maybe I'm too picky."
"Listen to me, as, lets say, the matriarch of our little group here," Sasha said, looking at me with her big green eyes. "Don't lower your standards to just get laid. Sex is sex, but for a lot of women, meaning you, you'll regret it if you just hop into bed with a Sleazy Joe. Plus, who knows what you'll catch."
I gave her a smile and the conversation shifted to the mishaps of the project that we'd just finished. But my thoughts weren't able to keep up with the chatter. Instead, my brain headed a bit south and my eyes wandered around the restaurant. My attention shifted from guy to guy and I rated them each and gave them nicknames. There was the blonde jock by the bar, looked like a football player retired because of too much hard liquor, he got a four. There were the Suits at the end of the bar, some of them looked nice. Collectively they got a seven or eight. I went from guy to guy and I mentally plastered numbers to their heads until my eyes drifted over to a table of men sitting a couple tables over from us.
They were all older than us, late thirties, early forties, somewhere along in there. They were all sharing drinks, laughing. They all had their sleeves up, ties loosened, the end of the week party, let it all out. I watched as they laughed at a joke one of them said and found myself utterly fascinated. I did prefer the older man to someone my age, maybe because they talked about different things, or maybe because maybe they could bring more to the bed, I don't know.
There was one guy that caught my attention. He was tall, a little lanky but not too much, nice glasses, and dark hair. I nibbled at my lower lip and fantasized what he looked like underneath his clothing. I was really off in fantasy-land when the guy stood up.
"I'm gonna go next door to BW, see what's up there," he said. "Really don't want to be sitting down anymore." He parted ways with his pals and left the restaurant and my eyes followed him hungrily. Now he was something I could definitely sink my teeth into. Maybe I didn't feel like sitting anymore.
"Hey, guys?" I said, "I think I'm going to head out." I dug into my pocket for my little wallet and pulled out ten bucks. "Here's my share of the bill, um, and I'll see you girls tomorrow at the mall." They all watched me strangely as I made a hasty retreat but I think I caught a knowing glimpse from Sasha. Outside, it was a little cool and I quickly made my way to the club next door and as I showed my ID and went inside, I wondered what the hell I was doing. I wasn't the kind of girl to hook up with a random guy, was I? Or was I?
I pulled my hair out of its ponytail and fluffed it a little as I looked around the club, trying to find that one face I was looking for. I spotted him on the dance floor, moving to the hard beat music. I looked around him, trying to figure out if he was dancing with anyone and it looked like he was dancing with a leggy brunette but I wasn't so sure. A little low on the confidence, I sidled over to the bar, grabbed a seat and ordered a rum and coke with very little rum and bided my time to snag the guy.
I was into my second drink when the guy wandered off the dance floor, and lo and behold by some fluke of fate, he grabbed the bar seat one down from mine. It was now or never. Drink held casually in my hand, I slid off my stool and into the one next to his.
"Buy you a drink?" I said, hoping my nervousness didn't reach my voice.
He glanced at me and smiled. "Isn't that supposed to be my line?" he asked.
I shrugged. "It's a modern world, right? Can't the girl start things off?" I said. I prayed that I came off as funny and witty or something good that'd get a conversation started.
"That it is," the guy said. "Okay, I'll just have a beer, whatever's on tap." The bartender got his order and soon the guy had a big sweating beer in front of him. "So, I'm Neal."
"Kas," I said. We shook hands and I felt dwarfed when his long fingers gripped my significantly smaller hand. "Um, you come here often?"
"Mostly on the weekends," he answered. "They play nice music and don't water their drinks too much. Plus there's a nice crowd here." He took a deep swallow of his beer and I watched his throat work as he drank.
I crossed my legs, feeling the material of my jeans dig in against my clit and I bit back a small whimper. "Seeing anyone?" I blurted out.
Neal raised an eyebrow. "No, not at the moment." He ran those long fingers of his up the side of his beer glass and I followed them intently like a cat does with a toy. "You?"
"Oh, I'm single, very single," I said then blushed. I was not thinking anything through, fuuuuck. "Yes, I'm single."
He chuckled. "How are you still single?"
"Bad luck, I guess," I told him. "How are you still single?"
"Touche," he said. "Haven't found the right one?"
I smiled, feeling myself relax a little. "So, I saw you dancing," I said. "You got some nice moves." Oh God what a lame line.
"Thanks," he said. "I always hope that I don't look like I'm gangly."
"Nopes," I said, "Not gangly." I watched his drink again and chugged my own drink to pluck up the coverage. "Would you like to dance? Even though I'm not that good."
"Hey, you don't know that," he said. I watched him drain his beer and I began digging around in my wallet for cash, coming up triumphantly with a ten dollar bill. I paid for our drinks and let Neal lead me onto the dance floor. As I watched the other dancers mover around us, I was glad that my work clothes weren't too formal; black slacks, a light blue tank top with lace, a light black jacket over it, black leather shoes with a hint of heel, but I still felt over-dressed compared to the others. Neal started dancing and I awkwardly followed his lead. "See, just loosen up," he said good-naturedly.
I tried, I honestly tried, moving to the beat the best I could. I had no idea what I looked like but Neal was nice enough not to laugh at me. It was nice to be out. I didn't go out to a lot of clubs, let alone dance at them, but this felt okay. I relaxed some more and got closer to Neal and he didn't seem to have a problem with it. I could feel myself getting more and more comfortable, and as I did, I felt my body start reacting on its own to the close presence of a man that I was attracted to. I watched the way that he moved, they way his hips moved... it was kind of hypnotizing. I found myself wondering what he had on under those pants and if he moved that good in bed.
I got to find out more about how good he moved when the songs changed to something slower. I was thinking that Neal would ditch the dance floor, instead, he reached out, and not quite shyly, he hooked a couple fingers into my belt and pulled me closer. When our bodies were nearly touching, his hands slid to my hips. I was confused where to put mine since he was significantly taller than I was so I opted to rest them on his chest. My right hand came to rest over his chest and I felt his heart racing under my hand.
I stole glance up at Neal and I wondered if his heart was racing because of the dancing or something else since I knew mine was racing because of the something else.
"See, you're not a bad dancer," he said softly.
"You're just saying that," I said.
.... There is more of this story ...