Just another in the long list of diversions which keep me from finishing things I have promised. This time around, my sarcastic nature got the best of me, and I decided to take a look into the world of the characters in the stories some of us like to read and write. What do they do when stories aren't being written?
No sex, not really erotic, and meant to be nothing more than a light piece of humor.
*
I could say the lounge was dark and smokey, perfect for secret rendezvous, but that would be like saying it was a dark night out. There are only two types of drinking establishments, it seems. Either it is a family run bar with a couple of secluded booths and a waitress who will eventually sleep with you depending on the situation, or it is a lounge somewhere where office people go after work to drink, dance, and relax without their significant others. Lounges always have a place where one can hide while watching or listening to a cheating spouse. I guess that was the major difference.
Between the time I entered and when I made it to the bar, Sam had a beer waiting for me, and I grabbed it and walked to our regular Wednesday night table. I figured I was early, but Mary had beat me there. And yes, before you ask, Mary is one of my co-workers. And yes, I have had sex with her. A lot.
I settled at one of the empty seats at the far end, next to Mary. From where we were, we could observe the entire bar without being seen, and had a perfect view of the doorway. Just like I said earlier. She was dressed in a skimpy leather outfit, which showed off her round ass and new 38DD breasts to their fullest extent. No bra lines marred the smoothness of her top, and I assumed no panty lines were visible down below. If you are wondering how I knew her bra size, well, let's just say I have a knack for such things. I think you will figure out why soon enough. I could tell from the smell that she was drinking vodka, straight up. It must have been a rough day for her.
"Hey, Mary," I said, to the utmost of my wit.
"Hey, Bob," she replied. She wasn't in the best of moods, but at least I could tell it wasn't my fault.
"Looks like another dominatrix scene, eh?"
"Yeah. John is my wimp husband. We were working on chapter four today, so I am supposed to break out all the stops." She toasted me with her drink, took a deep sip, then said in a weary voice, "We're doing the gangbang later tonight, if you want to join in."
"Another gangbang? Didn't you do one just last week, in that 'housewife revenge on the bachelor party' gig?"
She took another hit of the vodka, and gave me a half smirk. "Yup. What I wouldn't do to get called in for one of those 'erotic coupling' bits. You remember the one we did for Halloween last year?"
"In the hayloft? Yeah, I remember. That was before your, um, enhancement."
She looked down at her gravity defying bust. "Yeah. Impressive, aren't they? It's really weird to have your boobs enter a room five minutes before you do. When I lie on my back, they point to the ceiling like missiles or something. You know, they never describe chest sizes in 'erotic couplings'. Not the ones I've been in."
"It could be worse. " I said. "I hear that they shrunk John to three inches, hard." She smiled in empathy at that. She had come up with his nickname, 'Bungee', after a run of stories last year where the size of his manhood was noted every time, and every time it was different. "Where is he, anyway?" I asked.
"Back at the set, refilling all the whiskey bottles with tea. After the gangbang, he is supposed to down half a bottle of Jack Daniels in order to drown his sorrows."
"That'll kill him!"
"Thus the tea. He hopes nobody notices, and he can sneak it through. With the drugs I use to knock him out so I can tie him to the chair, we figured that he should be careful with the alcohol."
