I slide my finger out of her and pulled her pelvis back. The cheeks of her ass pressed firmly into me, as my other hand pressed her at the middle of her back. She bent slowly. Her hands gracing forward across the top of the table right in front of her while her ass lifted into the air. She lowered until she laid her upper half fully upon it. Her head pressed against the table as she peered around her shoulder, not enough to look at me directly but enough to be aware of me behind her. Her hands to either side as though she was to do a push up, ready, waiting, eager for whatever may come next. How did we get here? Here with her, face down on the table with only her own skin and breasts as cushion against the its glossy hard surface, her back arching up slightly lifting her pert ass in the air, swaying ever so gently in a way that defines ... come and get it.
Earlier in the evening, we were at the bar. Our bar. She was there. She always was. Cute and beguiling as ever in a sophisticated new friend of your little sister kind of way. But our group of friends didn't bring intergroup relations into play. At least not very often. And hence, I didn't categorize her as a sexual player on my field.
"You're just in time honey," she would say to me later in the evening as I was making my way along the bar. She hoped down from her chair and planted a big kiss on me. The man who was chatting her up threw back his drink, turned and walked away. It all happened quick. I stood startled, a deer in the headlight moment. Happy to help of course, but caught. Unbeknowst to my friend, I had made some quick in roads with a cute little coed. The coed thought it felt something like love; we all might-have a just few years ago when we too 18. She and I were on our way to the door, coats in hand, and I was planning on doing quite unspeakable things with her nubile body. The coed unfortunately at this moment was standing behind me as this kiss unfolded, her hand in mine as I was leading her out. I felt it pull away from me, and I turned slowly to face her just as she unloaded a vicious slap across my face. The sound reverberated right at a down moment in between songs. Wincing oohs bellowed out of the crowded bar followed by a hush as they tuned into to our drama. I didn't move. She pushed past me and rushed out the door. The peanut gallery erupted into a myriad of reactions. I took a deep breath and pursed my lips in a combination of self deprecating dismay, but didn't otherwise move.
Over my other shoulder, my kissing friend was simultaneously amused, embarrassed and guilty. It manifest as a giggle while she lowered her head to take a drink from her glass. She lifted her eyes up to peak at me while her head stayed down. The guilty look of a puppy dog who knows shes in trouble. Head cowered, eyes peaking up.
She started to speak, "I...am....so...sorry!"
It really was quite a laughable moment. But right then and there I was definitely irritated. My glare burnt into her for a moment while I took one more deep breath before finally walking away. The night carried on from there like many others. Laughs, b.s. and debauchery ensued as always. Everybody had a good and unimpeded time save for the few moments where my cold shoulder or disdaining glare for her presented itself and an air of awkward boiled up for everyone in the surrounding vicinity. She did in fact try to make nice on several occasions, but I wasn't about to let her off the hook just yet. I don't know what the statute of limitations on cockblocking is, but I felt like I was certainly within my rights to see it through for the evening. She felt bad to begin with, and it grew on her more and more throughout the evening.
By the time she followed me into the mens room to get me alone, she was beside herself. The door had nearly shut when she pushed inside, closed it and stood partly against on the handle side to keep anyone from coming in. I stood at the counter, watching her in the mirror.
"I...really...am so...sorry." She begin each word split by the kind of pauses you could drive a car though.
"I...just needed help at that moment and... you...well..........what can I do...."
I looked at her in the mirror across the restroom, dark for the most part with periodic can lights casting spots of illumination that set a sensuous mood. She looked back at me. There was nothing but silence for seconds that seemed like minutes. I turned quickly and moved to face her close enough to clearly break the barrier of her personal space but still with inches between us. The proximity triggered a break in the normal context of our relationship. The rules of our engagement all changed. Possibilities flood into those inches where we had previously left barriers. Her eyes darted back and forth between mine. Her and my breathing both changed to something between nervous and excited. There - within the tight proximity, the deep serious gaze into each others apologetic and angry eyes, the rhythm of our breathing, and the silence - was a whole conversation. She knew. I knew. It was as though it had already been written. The door opened and we received a smirk of a look from the surprised entrant. I caught the door and slipped away leaving her still with no redemption but seed of new perspective.
I returned to work the crowded bar to banter with the regulars and mix with the fresh catch. She returned to her group of girls in the rear corner. She sat quietly and watched me thru the bustling environment. I felt her eyes burn into me all the while. I periodically looked over to see her quietly festering in her strange new found and growing jealousy. I eventually made my way back around to our group with whom she sat. Put on my jacket and said my goodbyes. As I finished I very deliberately placed an umbrella down on the coffee table in front of them. Her umbrella. It went unnoticed by everyone except her. She didn't miss a thing. How could she. Our eyes locked for a moment before I turned past the bartenders playfully ribbing comments and to the door.
She came out a few minutes later. Walked straight out the door. Paused for a moment, nonchalantly looked right, then snapped back left and found me. She aimed herself and hurried to me just out of site line of windows back into the bar. Her long coat accented the length of her knee high boots as they reached up toward her sleek skirt. Her knees and the tender beginning of her inner thigh peaking out from between the two articles of clothes with each step. She arrived at my side, clutched my arm around the bicep with both hands, pressing her breasts into my shoulder as though the bounce in her step had flung her into me. She squeezed and slide both hands straight down my arm without releasing pressure, landing her two hands around one of mine, and sandwiching all three in the heat between my hip and the intimate junction of her legs. The warmth was a welcome respite against the crisp autumn air. Her eyes looked at me as though this moment together was familiar. We still hadn't spoke, but began walking.
Blocks passed. Our anticipation and wonder quietly simmering, the walk pregnant with all the volatility of full body want. Her hands each were actively caressing in and out of my fingers in search of something. Each moment waiting excited for the next. I snapped her into a narrow alleyway, and gathered her against the wall, the full length of our bodies pressed together, then calmly peeled off and crouched in front of her. My hands slide up the outside of her legs warm against the air. My nails skimming against the skin all the way up under her skirt, knee... thigh... hip... until I found the thin veil of her panties. I dug my nails into her some as I hooked my fingers and slid them down. Her weight shifted, she leaned over me a bit and braced herself for balance on my shoulder as she deliberately stepped out of the panties with one foot. And then the other.