I've published these two chapters together as a double-header. Enjoy.
Please remember, as with all my stories, should you be looking for 'Realism', just move on. I aim for 'Ridiculously Plausible'.
----------
After two months of Tony and Kimmie begging us to join their improv team, Steff and I had finally relented, and Friday was to be our first time giving it a try. The whole evening's competition ended up being kind of anti-climactic though, to be honest. Steff and I did not embarrass ourselves, nor did we particularly shine. We got some laughs. We had some fun. I got chance to see up close how good Tony and Kimmie had become. The show was done.
The biggest problem was that afterwards, instead of my heading off with Steff to make the beast with two backs, the two of us were kind of obligated to hang out and celebrate our debut with Tony and Kimmie. Turns out that, while Steff and I were underwhelmed by our performances, Tony, and especially Kimmie, were totally stoked. The four of us had not won that night's competition, but we had come in second.
We left the theater and hit a nearby sports bar. Upon claiming a table, we made Tony go buy the beers, because whiny beggars get to pay for the booze. Kimmie immediately grabbed both of us and practically shrieked, "You guys rocked it! We four are going to rule this winter."
"Half our jokes went over like lead balloons," grumped Steff, echoing my own sentiments.
"Duh," Kimmie waved Steff off dismissively. "It's improv. Half the jokes never land. It's about how well the other half land. Y'all did make half the bits you tried work, and that is without the four of us practicing together at all. Once we do..." Just because improv is genuinely made up right on the spot, that doesn't mean that good teams don't practice a whole tool kit of characters and stock bits that can be plugged in make sure that all members of the troop are used to where things are likely to go. Steff and I had been a little glum when we realized that we had not only signed up for twice monthly performances, but also for weekly 'workouts'. We should have known. We
had
known, really. But it gave us both an excuse to bitch, so we were going to take full advantage. It would mean more beers on Tony's tab....
Tony returned with the first of said beers. A short while later, he returned with more beers. And so the evening went on. At one point, when the ladies went to the restroom together, as ladies do, Tony leaned over to me, poked me in the side, and said, "Look, dude. I know you keep saying that you and Steff are not a couple, but that is seriously low-hanging fruit." I just smiled quietly but quellingly at him. If he only knew. But Tony was on a roll, and would not shut up. "I can't understand how you aren't seeing how she looks at you all the time. She is hungry, dude. And come on, during that one bit tonight, she flat-out grabbed your ass and held on, on stage, in front of God and everyone!"
"Was God in the audience?" I asked with mock excitement. "Where was he? I didn't see him!"
Tony just shook his head. "You. Are. Missing. Out."
The only way that I was missing out was that it was getting late, Steff and I were both getting a little tipsy, and Tony and Kimmie seemed in no hurry to call it a night. The longer I was here yakking with Tony, the longer it would be until I could get Steff into bed.
When the girls returned, Tony went off on a new tangent about his improv ideas and projects. I rolled my eyes and leaned back, nursing my beer lest Tony offer to get me another. I shot an impatient and apologetic look at Steff, but she just smiled back.
Before Tony could really get going, Kimmie leaned over next to him in the booth and snuggled up. She butted in on his enthusiastic monologue with an idea or two of her own. Now, Tony is a fun guy, but he is usually unstoppable during one of his good-natured rants, even by his girlfriend. But suddenly, he just let the matter drop. I shot a look at Steff and she looked back at Kimmie.
Upon examination, I could not see Kimmie's hands under the table, but I developed a pretty good idea of where they were. My suspicions were confirmed when Tony suddenly said, "Well, I think we ought to go." With that, he rose, tugging Kimmie along behind. She laughed as she quite willingly let herself be pulled along.
"See you guys after Christmas!" she called back as they bolted.
"Did she...?" I wondered.
"Oh yeah," laughed Steff. "We planned it all out in the bathroom. I told her that she was never getting to bed and getting laid if she didn't, um, take matters into her own hands."
"Ah," I sighed, "my devious wench!" We clinked bottles and toasted her success.
And I yawned. Hard.
And so did Steff.
"Look," she said, sort of seriously. "Maybe I should just Uber home. We are both beat, and you would have to drive all the way back down this way tonight if you dropped me off."
I didn't like this idea at all. "I could just sleep over," I suggested with a hopeful leer. Honestly, I had expected to sleep over. I had every other date we'd been on.
Steff graced my lips with a deep, delicious, promising kiss. "Not tonight. I have three friends who I haven't told about you showing up at eight am tomorrow so we can drive up to Helen and do some Christmas shopping. If you sleep over, I guarantee that they will find me with your dick still in my mouth, and that might make the day awkward." We both laughed.
It was funny. And she was right. Late as it was, my driving all that way and back tonight would probably not be safe. But I have to admit, I was a little miffed by the way she was putting a shopping trip to faux-Switzerland over boning me. And I was a lot miffed about missing out on the boning....
"Shit," muttered Steff. "I could use some post-show sex, too."
Inspiration flashed.
"Ah well," I yawned, "what can we do?" I stood and took her hand, as if to lead her out toward the front. But as she slid out of the booth, I led her toward the back of the restaurant instead.
"Hey, where are you... and I haven't even called the Uber yet," Steff said, confused. She tried to open her purse with her free hand.
But I had us moving fairly quickly through the now thinning crowd and she couldn't get the phone out. We reached the back hall, and I swiftly checked that no one was waiting back there. Without a word, I opened one of the bathroom doors, led her in, and locked the door behind us.
Each bathroom at that place was what I call a "one-holer", meaning the whole room was meant for one user at a time....
Light dawned on Steff's face. "I am not fucking you in the John!" she declared.
I just put my arms on her waist and chuckled, "Your words say no, but your eyes says, 'make me an offer.'" Steff did look around hesitantly, and I slid my hands from her hips around and down to caress her tight little ass, which I had been staring at or thinking about much of the night.
Through our clothes, Steff could feel my raging hard-on pressing against her belly. She pressed back and said, "Well, your dick sure seems on board."
Unwilling to let her better judgement make a comeback, I bent and kissed her fiercely. I grabbed the front of her shirt, pulling it free of her jeans skirts' waistband with one hand. That let me slide the other up under her shirt and caress a breast that rested in a barely there lace bra. Steff just moaned a little and murmured, "Fuckit."
The room was dimly lit, with faux wood flooring and walls decorated with Falcons, Braves, and Hawks posters. The red and black toilet was on the back wall, and there was an unnecessarily large vanity with a huge mirror. Besides being pretty spacious, the restroom was actually remarkably clean for this time of night. I tried not to think about what that meant. It was a near certainty that someone had done something exceptionally foul in here recently, and the staff had had to come in and do an extra cleaning instead of waiting until closing.
Steff's bra was a front closure number, and I let the hook slip free. I pushed her shirt up above her tits and grabbed them gently but hungrily, burying my face between them. Every square inch of Steff's skin was smooth and tight as a drum over her softly athletic curves and valleys, and nowhere was that truer than on her crazily pert boobs. Their dark, oblong aureole wrinkled slightly, tugged hard by her straining, erect nipples.
My hands cupped her delicious handfuls as my lips devoured them.
Then I chuckled.
"What?" she demanded.
"You don't need a bra you know," I scolded her, not for the first time. "These beauties are God damned supernatural. Next time we perform, if you and Kimmie go all Jennifer Aniston and let your pokies fly, I bet it would be worth at least an extra ten points from that pervy judge--the old one."
"Don't you have eyes?" asked Steff, looking down at me as my finger and thumb tugged and teased on one petite little nipple while I gently bit on the matching nubbin of joy. "Kimmie needs a bra... or three. The way she likes to jump around on stage, those beasts would be flying everywhere."
"Great," I said, around the mouthful of breast that I refused to relinquish, "make that twenty five extra points." I looked up in time to see Steff roll her eyes at my commentary, then roll them backing her head as my tongue and teeth brought a loud, happy sigh to her lips.
