Friday Night

I am sitting at a table near the dance floor, an empty shot glass in front of me and a red beer half finished. The band is fine, the music bouncy and my girlfriend has been on the dance floor with the same guy for the last three dances. I am enjoying the music, and the view as a handsome guy scoots by my table on the way to the bar. I turn slightly to watch him, nice. I cross my legs, my short red skirt riding a little higher, the tops of my stockings starting to show. My shoes, difficult to keep on in the best of times, are under the table, my nylon covered toes moving to the music.

I wish the waitress would show, I really would like another shot of tequila and some more tomato juice for my beer, but it is a busy night so I wait, and watch the inhabitants on a busy Friday night. I feel someone behind me, hopefully it is the cute guy who just went by, but it is not. He asks me to dance, and I refuse, shaking my head so my curly hair sways. I am wishing for the guy at the bar, I saw him looking, but will he come and ask me to dance?

The next song the band plays is a favourite of mine, a slow buckle polisher. Still no waitress and no handsome guy...

"May I join you?"

Oh happy day! The cute guy must be psychic, red beer and companionship!

"Hi, sure." He sits, lovely man. I lean forward, the black vest I am wearing gaps a bit and I see him checking me out. My full breasts press on the fabric of the vest. "I'm Maggie."

I watch as he looks down my vest, checking out my legs, the tops of my stockings showing at the edges of my short red skirt. I have had just enough tequila shooters to enjoy showing off a bit for him. I uncross my legs and then cross them the other direction so my toes are very close to his denim-clad knee, almost touching. He can see my calves and thighs, covered in black stockings. He is quite nice to look at too and I am a little embarrassed to discover my nipples getting a little hard pressing against my low cut vest. I wonder if he notices, though he seems a little preoccupied with my legs and the stocking tops. I run my hand down my thigh, smoothing the skirt only a little, not really covering anything, just attracting his attention.

"Thanks for the beer, and your name would be...?"

I look at him and smile, then take a drink from my glass, slowly so he can watch my tongue come just out between my lips to lick the rim of my glass before I drink.

He tips his hat, very gentlemanly, “I’m Charlie.” He sounds the tiniest bit distracted.

I wonder if he dances, and if it is dark enough in the bar that he will try to feel me up if he does dance a slow song with me. He has nice, strong looking hands. I imagine his touch would be firm, and sensual, if shy at first, he looks sort of shy. I like that. Shy guys are always fun when alone.

In the background the deep voice of the bass player sings ...(amarillo by morning, up from san antone, everything that I've got is just what I've got on, I'll be looking for an eight when they pull that gate and I hope that judge ain't blind)... It was one of my favourite songs when I was a little girl, and one of my favourites to dance to now. Handsome Charlie takes me in his arms, his knee between mine leads me around the dance floor. He dances well for a real cowboy, smooth and sure. A lot of cowboys don't have rhythm, surprising since riding a horse is a very rhythmic thing. Drugstore cowboys can do all the fancy dances, but usually lose points for not having any scuff marks on their boots. Real cowboys have scuff marks, and their boots also rarely match their hats. I can tell Charlie is a real cowboy, like my dad and brothers were, since he has boots that are dusty, a shirt that isn't starched to death and he smells like outdoors and the Wyoming wind I grew up in. I sigh.

I move a little closer, pressing my breasts against his chest. I was right, his hands are strong and firm in mine and on my back, guiding the dance without any of the fancy silliness the wannabees use.

The band is playing another waltz, Charlie keeps me in his arms, the bass player singing a George Strait song. Charlie feels good against me.

The music changes, and Charlie and I sit down and drink our beer. He still seems shy, but a little more comfortable. I am liking his company very much. I have been fending off slick wannabees all night, now that I have found a real person in the sea of cowboy hats, I am having a really fun time. I have a rule against going home with guys who pick me up in bars, but I really like this guy, and I don't want him to think I am the usual buckle bunny trash that hangs out in cowboy bars, but Jeeze! I want to get my hands on him, and my other body parts too.

I kick my shoes off again and lightly graze his leg with my toes, as if by accident. My friend has left me alone with Charlie, she is at another table with her guy, but she is up and in front of our table now. The band has started one of our favourite songs, and we always have a girl dance to this one. We sing and dance and generally act sort of silly. The band swings into a Georgia Satellites tune and Josie drags me on the dance floor. Charlie is smiling and watching. I see him raise our empty glasses to the passing waitress. I watch him when we get to the chorus, the band changes the words to the song. Josie and I dance and belt out the chorus together. Charlie is still laughing when I return to the table.

"Looks like you need this," he hands me a cold beer with tomato juice, yum.

"Yes, thanks."

Josie has sent over shots of tequila. I raise mine at her and then to Charlie. I swallow the tequila and follow it with a sip of beer and smile at Charlie some more.

I really want to break my rule with him. Maybe he will ask me to breakfast after this set is over, and I can ask sweetly if he means now or later. I grin wickedly to myself. It is getting close to midnight and the band will be breaking soon. They start another song, something by Merle Haggard, and Charlie holds out his hand. I slip my shoes back on and he leads me to the dance floor.

He wraps his arms around me and holds me to his chest, strong and firm against my soft breasts. His knee between mine seems a bit more erotic now, rubbing denim against stockings. His mouth is near my ear and I can feel his breath on my skin, stirring the wisps of hair that have fallen out of their pins. My ears are very sensitive, his breathing next to my ear is very arousing, and I feel my nipples tighten again, and warmth creeping from the center of my stomach down my legs and making my toes tingle.

I move my head just slightly, his mouth is almost on my ear, he is starting to whisper something...but the sensation is so wonderful that I almost can't pay attention to what he is saying.

"I'm sorry, what did you say, it is so loud here on the dance floor, I, well, I couldn't quite catch that..." I hope he doesn't realize that the reason I couldn't hear him is because I am light headed with arousal.

His lips are right on my ear when he replies...

Oh happy night.... He has invited me home, yowza! I grab my purse, give Josie a wave and follow him out the door.

At his place he is very polite and quiet still, but I think I can see that he is sort of excited too. He shows me around and says he wants a minute to clean up. I tell him to take his time and if he wants I will putter in the kitchen and make some late dinner. He disappears and I hear a shower as I sort through cupboards.

He returns shortly in clean, worn jeans and a plain white tee shirt, his feet are bare and his hair wet from the shower and combed neatly. He is gorgeous. His jeans look soft and comfy and conform nicely to his ass and stretch tight in the front. If he wants to advertise, he is doing a great job.

We sit and eat steak and eggs with fresh tomatoes and another beer apiece. He asks if I'd like to join him in the living room to listen to music or catch a late movie.

We flip channels for a bit, but decide to put music on since there are no late shows that capture our attention, the only late show we are interested in is the one here on the couch.

His arm is around me, he pulls me to him a bit and I turn to look him in the eye, his eyes are beautiful too, and drawing closer. He puts his lips lightly on mine, just brushing my mouth with his once, then again and then taking my lower lip between his, gently, and sucking my lip into his warm mouth. My mouth opens under his, his tongue slips inside, exploring my gumline, past my teeth to coax my tongue to dance with his. I push lightly with my tongue against his, then suck very gently on his, my reward is his tongue deeper in my mouth, my head falling back and his hand caressing the back of my neck.

I turn my head to lock my mouth more firmly with his as he deepens the kiss, his tongue stroking mine, stroking the roof of my mouth, my teeth, gums and soft skin under my tongue, so very sensitive and arousing. I put my hands on his cheeks, then run them up into his hair, urging him to take my mouth . He kisses me a little harder, still gentle, but deep, and his tongue strokes against mine, making love to my mouth with his.

I am light headed again, holding his shoulders, kissing him like he is the oxygen I need to survive. His hands are on my waist, holding me, starting to caress the bare flesh where the vest gaps a bit above my skirt. My breasts are pressed to his chest, my nipples hard yet again, wanting his fingers to explore a little higher under my vest.

His mouth leaves mine to move down my throat, leaving little tiny kisses in a line down my neck and to the low opening of the vest. His face is between my breasts, he is still leaving little kisses, his hands pushing their way up my body to cup my breasts. A button pops open, and he encourages its mates to do the same. He takes one firm nipple in his mouth and sucks, his fingers teasing the other to get even harder. My hands are in his hair again, his mouth feels so wonderful I want him to keep doing that forever. But there are other pressing matters, like his erection against my thigh. I rub my leg against his, my stockings making whispering sounds on the denim.

He pushes his leg under mine and now my knees are parted and he slides one hand down my belly, over my skirt and underneath. His fingers softly brush against me, my satin panties a little damp now, his fingers stroke lightly again and again over me. His mouth on my breasts is driving me mad, first sucking and licking and pulling one nipple and then the other. Now his hands are joining in the driving.

I slide one hand between us, down to his jeans, through the denim I can feel him growing harder, pushing to escape the confining material.

He lays me back on the couch, his hands moving my hips and positioning his hips on mine. He is still wearing jeans and I still have soft satin covering me. His face is in my neck, his mouth open on my skin and I wrap my arms and legs around him as he covers me with his body. The denim of his jeans is a rough and sensual texture between my thighs, his shoulders strong under my fingers.

We are both breathing hard, kissing again now, his tongue more aggressive, mirroring the act that is certainly now the only thing in either of our minds. My hips move almost with out my knowledge, welcoming him.

"I want this to last a while," he whispers in my ear, "Let's go find the bed and explore some more, find out all the things that we each like the best."

He stands, helps me off the couch and then scoops me up, carrying me toward a doorway where a soft bedside light illuminates a huge king bed. He lays me gently on the bed then strips off his shirt, dropping it beside my vest that has fallen to the floor. He leaves the jeans on, leaning onto the bed to take my mouth again with his. His kiss is hard, slow and sensual and full of passionate promises.