He had, as promised, bought that damn motorcycle the moment he was able to. And to celebrate it, he hit the road all by himself, since apparently there were no volunteers to go with him.
He had ended up in the Midwest, not very sure of his current location, but he had asked around and they had suggested a bar with live music of all genres. He arrived and he saw her, sitting with a "don't bother me" expression on her face. And that's what he was aiming for.
He sat next to her but didn't make a move. He wasn't after that.
"Well, when are you going to do it?"
"Hey. Do what?"
"Do the whole act of appearing not interested but, after giving it supposed serious thought, hit on me," she wasn't being a complete bitch, rather it seemed like a legitimate question.
He looked her up and down. Her eyes were that flexible color that changed according to what she wore. Expressive. Then again, the angle of the seat had prevented him from noticing the rack. Not exaggerated, but fucking tempting. He cursed mentally because he ogled a second.
"Nah, I saw your stance and thought I could imitate you, having nobody bothering me would be nice," he said, managing to look into her eyes. She saw the ring on his finger glinting with the same honesty his eyes had, so it suddenly became an actual conversation.
"Julie," she offered her hand.
"Key," he grinned. "Obviously not my real name, but I don't think I'd turn around if my father came up here and called me by my name. Even he calls me like this. Also, I'm a bit of an ass and all that."
The lack of need to impress made the conversation flow nicely to any topic, when things came to sex, it didn't feel stilted. It was just how the talk flowed.
"I get young guys hitting on me all the time -I'm past my mid 20s- but they say it's because 'older women are hot'," she was saying after a few minutes.
"Well, if you're in high school, anyone over 25 is a great learning experience ...and I would've sworn you were younger, anyway," he admitted.
"I live in a college town and work with a lot of undergrads, so by young I mean 18-22. Flatterer," she had already explained she came to that place to avoid people from work. "Up close I definitely am at least mid 20s. Wrinkle cream is my friend."
"Oh. I told you that, even while being an asshole, I can be charming. The best part, though, is that I'm a terrible liar, so you can safely assume honestly I think you're good looking," he shrugged.
They didn't realize when the whole thing devolved into a far more graphic tale.
"...I know that more guys are into seeing their cum everywhere than girls are into having cum everywhere," she talked so naturally, once would've thought she was explaining how supermarket coupons worked.
"I like cumming inside rather than on someone. I get this primal 'mine now' sensation that I can't get any other way," he agreed. Either they were oblivious, or they feigned not noticing the rising sexual tension.
"Exactly. Cum belongs inside me. I don't really know how else to explain it. There's this possessiveness that just drives me crazy!"
"There's this... caveman feeling, I suppose. If I cum inside you, you're MINE. And I like that," he gulped down his virgin drink, so he actually couldn't blame alcohol for the way he began flirting with her.
Then again, it was obvious, from the remarks she made and the way she isolated pieces of conversation to analyze details, that she was smart. He found himself doing that smirk of his subtly but more often. He felt it on his face but couldn't stop himself.
When she learned he was into personal image, she made a quick consultation and she was complaining about something on her appearance, when he interrupted her.
"Those eyes, though."
"Thanks?"
"Sexy as fuck, ma'am. Thanks accepted."
She laughed before saying, "you're ridiculous. I'm not used to compliments. I don't know how to react to them."
"And there I thought my compliment had been a little aggressive. But that's kinda how I do compliments. Blunt, a little elaborate on words and still managing to use an inappropriate word or two."
