How you go about choosing a lover can be a long and confusing process, baffling even to one’s own self. How you pick out the candidate for a one night stand is much simpler; you have the urge to get laid, you find an acceptable male, and if he’s horny, and most straight men are, then you’re in luck. A girl only has to let him know she’s available and more than a little willing. You don’t have to worry about whether he’s smart or stupid, arrogant, loud, a liar, or living with his mother; you’re not building a relationship, just looking for some fun. The one break nature gave women over men is that we can usually find a playmate if we really want one. And on this particular night, I wanted one.

I’d had an argument earlier in the day with my boyfriend. It wasn’t over anything important, but it was one of those things that had been building for a while. He wasn’t a bad guy, but he could be boring and I wasn’t in the mood to be bored and it was time for a change. Moving on would be the best for both of us, it was time. I had told him it was over and now I was headed out to a local hotel that had a once a month singles night in their banquet room, I’d always been curious about it and tonight seemed to be the night to satisfy that interest.I needed a little fun and some consolation.

When I arrived, I paid the cover charge, received two tickets for free drinks, and went in. The room itself reminded me of a high school prom style of set up filled with over age students. I was in my late thirties, no kid myself, but I was one of the younger females there. Don’t get me wrong, a lot of the over fifty crowd were attractive looking women, but the men in the crowd tended to be younger, there was not a lot of age appropriate match ups available. This was simply a high class hook-up spot, but that was all right with me; that’s what I was there for.

Being among the younger twenty per cent (perhaps ten per cent, I’m not sure) had its advantage here, I knew it made me a prime target, a choice piece of real estate for some guy to plant his flag on, so to speak. I went to the bar and exchanged one of my drink tickets for a glass of Chardonnay and knew the sharks would begin circling soon, and that thought excited me. I was also right, several men, both older and younger, came over asking me to dance, which I did’ and others offered to buy me drinks, which I polity refused. I didn’t mind getting a little tight, but I didn’t want to get so completely wasted that I’d make a decision that I was going to regret later if I could help it.

After returning to the bar after dancing with an older gentleman, I heard a voice behind me ask, “Room on your dance card for one more?”

I turned and saw a nice pleasant looking man smiling at me, and he had a killer smile. He appeared younger than me, I guessed in his late twenties. I knew right away I would be willing to sleep with him if I didn’t detect any personality defects or gross idiosyncrasies. It’s hard to explain why, it wasn’t that he was incredibly handsome or anything like that, it’s just that my instincts told me he had potential. Without saying a word, I slid off the bar stool and walked out on the floor, glancing over my shoulder to see if he was following; he was; lucky me.

The DJ was playing some slow music, which was fine with me. I figured nothing would make an impression on my young stranger like a warm female body pressed tightly against him. I was apparently correct, because within minutes I was aware of his erection trapped between us. I knew then and there he was ripe for the picking, mine if I wanted him. It was a lovely feeling. I laid my head on his shoulder in an attempt to let him know I was truly interested.

When the music ended, I held the position several seconds before stepping back from him. When I did step back, I looked up at him with my most innocent smile.

“Why don’t we find a table instead of sitting at the bar?” I suggested, knowing if he went with me, I was in control.

“Yeah,” he answered with some surprise, “of course, that’d be great.”

We went back to the bar to gather up our things and order a couple more drinks. His arm was around my waist, nothing too aggressive, just enough to assure me he was interested. When we went to order the drinks, he insisted on paying for them and I didn’t argue. I told him I was drinking Chardonnay he shook his head.

“Chardonnay is good, but you deserve better. I hear they make a wicked Bellini here. Care to try one?”

I said I’d love to. It was that “you deserve better” line that did it. This guy was kind of smooth, but not overly so, he wasn’t reeking of over-confidence. I could tell he wasn’t a player which was good; I wasn’t in the mood for a player. The problem with a player is, in my experience, they’re usually aggressively self-centered and self-indulgent; it all has to be their way. Now, that’s all right to some degree and at certain times, but it’s not always fun to be on the receiving end of their little fantasies. They seem to insist that they know what you like sexually better than you do.

Now, I don’t really know if a Bellini is actually better than Chardonnay, but it does have a ring of class about it and they were good. He obviously knew how to make a girl feel special. I was really beginning to like this guy. As I said, there was an uncertainty about his demeanor that was charming, I could tell no matter what happened that night, he wasn’t going to take me for granted. Sex always seems better to me when you feel wanted, as opposed to when you feel like you’re just some random cunt waiting to get indiscriminately fucked.

As we sat sipping our drinks, chatting, and flirting, he asked if I came there often. Now the truth is the truth and it is always the best answer, but if you asked three quarters of the women in the place that night if they’d been there before they’d say no even if they were regulars. For a moment or two tried to come up with a flip answer. If I just said no it’d just sound like I was being coy, a woman in her late thirties trying to act innocent. If I said I had, well that just wouldn’t be true, and what would be the point of that? So I went with the truth with a qualifier.

“No, never before, but I always wanted to only I was always embarrassed to ask any of my girlfriends to come with me and never comfortable with the thought of coming alone. Tonight I decided to just do it and see what it’s like.”

“Well, glad you did, glad I was here to meet you” he said smiling at me shyly. Then he raised his glass in my direction, “Here’s to my good luck.”

I raised my glass and tapped it against his lightly. I don’t know if he realized it or not, but at that moment we sealed the deal. Up until then I was willing to do him, after that I wanted to do him. When I toasted to his luck, it was because, unless something went horribly wrong, he was going to get real lucky tonight and I was going to get laid; a win-win for both of us.

“How about you,” I asked, “this your first time here, too?”

“No, I came a couple of times before. I never really met anyone before, but for some reason I keep feeling like trying one more time.”

“Ah,” I said softly, “the old ‘if at first you don’t succeed, try, try,’ again philosophy. How’s it working for you, anyway?”

“Pretty well tonight,” he hesitantly added, “I think.”

There was that bit of uncertainty that I was finding endearing in him. I reached over and rested my fingertips on the back of his hand, glancing at it as if looking for something and spoke in a distracted voice.

“I think so, too,” then looked up at him, smiling coquettishly.

From there it was all a formality, a politely flirtatious waltz, neither wanting to appear too eager or anxious while we danced around what we both, by now, knew was going to happen. When we got up to dance (actually dance, as opposed to the metaphorical waltz I was just speaking of) I pressed as close to him as I could, my arms around him, forearms running vertically up his back with my hands on his shoulders. I rested my cheek on his shoulder, the back of my head against his neck. I don’t know if a girl can give out stronger a signal than this.

It really must have been working: he was embracing me firmly, with one arm low around the small of my back, the other diagonally across my upper back. It was all very cozy, I could feel his every breath, not to mention the hard cock once again squeezed between us. I had an unsettling nervous anticipatory sensation in my stomach that I get when I’m ready for sex. A slight tremor ran down my spine, strong enough that he had to have felt it. This wasn’t a dance as much as it was public foreplay; slow, intimate, sensual foreplay.

When the music stopped, I took his hand and led him back to the table. Once we got there, I stopped and turned to look at him, still holding his hand. It was time to get serious and I figured the next step was up to me.

“Would you like get out of here, you know, go somewhere a little more private?” I asked.

He arched his eyebrows slightly and nodded his head. As we gathered up our things he asked the question.

“Do you know place we can go?”

“Three, your place, my place, or we can get a room here.” As I said, we both knew where this was going, but with that answer I had made it official.

Out in the parking garage he offered to take me to his place, explaining it was small and not well kept. I stood in front of him, raised myself up on my toes and kissed him, a slow, soft, lingering kiss.

“Your place is fine, honey, I’ve seen men’s apartments before, I’d be nervous if it weren’t kind of messy. Don’t worry.”

He offered to drive me there, but I told him I wasn’t comfortable leaving my car here. He could lead the way and I’d follow, we could use our cell phones to keep in touch if I lost track of him. He gave me his number and we got into our cars and pulled out. There wasn’t much traffic so it was easy to follow him, a couple of times we got separated by traffic lights and I had to tell him to pull over and wait, but other than that it was smooth sailing.

On the drive I had time to think things over, amazed at how easily everything had fallen into place. What were the odds? I had literally just walked in the door and met someone who seemed to be just what I was looking for. Right out of the blue, he’d walked up and asked me to dance, then swept me off my feet and the nicest part was, he didn’t even seem to know he was doing it. Now there was a special kind of excitement, I was following a perfect stranger to his apartment where, hopefully, we were going to screw our brains out.

Even my underthings were right, delicate lingerie and stockings with lacy elastic tops. I didn’t wear these things to titillate men, but for my own benefit. Wearing things like that under a conservative dress always make me feel sexy, and when you’re on the prowl, you want to feel sexy and desirable. Now that I was sure I was going to be out of my dress soon, it was nice to know I was going to look hot and enticing.

When I saw his car pull over to the curb, I pulled in behind him. By the time I turned off the headlights and the engine and opened my door, he was alongside my car. Taking my hand, he helped me out of the vehicle. Like I’ve mentioned, he was a class act with the ability to make you feel special.

With his arm behind my back, his hand on my hip, we walked silently towards what appeared to have been a single house that had been converted into apartments. We went in the front door into a small entryway and climbed up a narrow set of stairs to his place. When we went in, I looked around, catching a view of the kitchen. The table was full of clutter, but the rest of the place wasn’t as messy as he’d led me to believe. I was expecting to see balled up socks and underwear thrown on the floor. It looked like the only underwear that was going to be tossed on the floor would be mine and, honestly, I was looking forward to that.

I took off my sweater; he took it and went to hang it up while I wandered into the living room. I set my purse down on the floor alongside the couch and then sat down and waited for him to come back. When he did he asked if I would like a drink.

“I don’t have the fixings for a Bellini, but I do have Scotch, Canadian Whiskey, and vodka. There’s beer too, but you don’t strike me as a beer drinker.”

“If you’ve got ginger ale, a highball will do,” I told him.

I sat and waited until he came back with the drinks. He sat down next to me and I kind of leaned against him as he put his arm around my shoulders. We sat there sipping our drinks and making small talk. I was beginning to wonder if I’d misread the situation, when finally he decided to make his move. He leaned over towards me to give me a kiss. I put a hand on his chest to hold him back. I think he thought I was trying to stop him; far from it. I took a sip of my drink, then leaned forward and set my glass down on the floor, out of the way. When he saw this he did likewise.

When we both straightened up I turned slightly towards him as he put his arm back around my shoulders. This time when he leaned in for a kiss, there was no hand stopping him, quite the opposite, I slid one arm around his back while one hand rested on the crook of his neck; the beginnings of a welcoming embrace. I tipped my head a little awaiting his kiss.

The moment our lips met, wasting no time, I slid my tongue forward into his mouth, seeking his. I held him tightly as our tongues made love to each other, stroking, probing, and sliding across each other. I could feel my heart beat speeding up, and a taught sensation in my breasts as my nipples began hardening. And then there was that peculiar slightly quivery feeling in my abdomen that I get during arousal. I knew I was ready, everything that would happen from here was going to be pure gold.

When our lips separated, I felt his fingertips brush softly across my cheek and up to my forehead, lightly sweeping hair aside before kissing my on the neck. He started at my jawline, then moved to the base of my neck, finally pressing his lips into the hollow of my throat, sending chills through me every step of the way. Then he began gently nibbling on my earlobe, I heard myself moan out loud at that. I started involuntarily squirming my hips and legs slightly in response to this stimulation.

I felt his hand, first rubbing my knee, then slowly making its way up my inner thigh caressing me as it went. I squirmed some more in sheer anticipation. His hand went past the lacy stocking top, I felt my stomach tighten when it touched my bare flesh. I was glad I wore stockings rather than my usual pantyhose, the sensation was electric. His hand lingered there, caressing the sensitive flesh of my upper inner thigh before moving on. I inhaled sharply when he began rubbing my pussy through the fabric of the crotch of my panties. I was so aroused at that point that alone was almost enough to get me off; almost but not quite.