Interactive Araoe

This is my first foray into the realm of published erotica. I do hope you enjoy reading it.

SaltySailor

I love to sing, but I'm only slightly above average - I'll never be a recording artist or anything. I got addicted to karaoke bars while I was stationed in Japan and have been frequenting them ever since. Since I travel a lot, it is always nice to go someplace where you know for certain you will fit in, and that you have something in common with the folks there. Since I'm way above average in the world of bad bar singing, I'm sure to get the attention of the audience.

While I'm up there singing, I like to think I present an image worth looking at as well. 6'3", brown hair, blue eyes; a naval officer trying to shed the official aura and be a regular guy for a while. I love being the center of attention - I often wonder why anyone would entertain a crack habit when all they need to do is get the rush from belting a song out in front of a bunch of people you may or may not know, and potentially make a certified fool of yourself. And sometimes, just sometimes mind you, the rewards of a good performance onstage can lead to an even more interesting private performance later.

I was in Washington, D.C. a couple of weeks ago for a conference, and had done my homework beforehand asking around online for a country bar that did karaoke a couple of nights a week. Country bars are the best ones - you can walk in not knowing a soul and walk out with a dozen new friends. This was no different, and as an added bonus the host had the most songs in his collection I had ever seen in my travels, including all of my favorites. There was nothing else for me to do but begin showing off.

I generally start out with a couple country songs. I prefer to listen to big hair 80's music, but my attempts to sing them in public are generally pretty abortive. Country is easy - fun, twangy, and the songs fit my range. My best one is by John Michael Montgomery - "Sold (The Grundy County Auction Incident)" - it is fast and tricky to get right, so when I lead in with this one I'm basically telling the crowd (and the unofficial competition) "OK folks, here's what I can do - what have you got?"

I got into the lyrics and blazed away as usual, and while I sang about a woman with "ruby red lips, blonde hair, blue eyes" in the second row, there in the room's equivalent of the second row was a woman who matched this description that I made eye contact with. I'll wager her attempt to make eye contact had been going on for a while, and she was staring at me pretty hard, lip-synching right along with me. My smile immediately got bigger and I tossed this appreciative member of the audience a wink. She responded in kind, and by the time I finished the song I was completely out of breath but loving every bit of the applause I received at the end.

As I left the stage, she followed me with her eyes, but I continued on to my table where my beer and the song book were waiting for me. I already knew what the next number would be - "Be My Baby Tonight," another John Michael Montgomery number. I figured I'd give my admirer a personal serenade and see what happened. However, I knew I had a while to wait before the host cycled through the other performers and I got my chance again. So I nursed my Corona for a bit and paged through the book, listening to the other singers take the stage with varying degrees of success. And just to make certain, I checked up on the blonde in the front, who sure enough was checking from time to time to make certain I had not run off on her.

Well, my turn rolled around again, and off I went to the stage. This time the applause preceded my song - guess I made quite an impression on round one. This song is kind of tricky as well, but not as bad as my first. I was having fun as usual, and my admirer near the front was enjoying all of it. She was singing along with me, right up until I got to the chorus. I had been paying attention to her since I already knew the words, and I was curious why she stopped. However, I realized what her game was when all she did was nod when I sang:

"Could ya, would ya, ain't ya gonna,

if I asked ya, would ya wanna,

Be my baby tonight?

Yeah take a chance slow dance

Make a little romance

Honey it'll be all right!

Girl you got me wishin

We were huggin and a kissin

And a holdin each other tight!

So could ya, would ya, ain't ya gonna

If I asked ya would ya wanna

Be my baby tonight?"

She was just nodding instead of singing. Now I've been known to misread signals in the past, but this one was about as obvious as a nuclear explosion, and I would have been pretty stupid to pass up at least the opportunity to see where things might head later. She looked pretty good - shoulder length straight blonde hair, big blue eyes, full, pouty lips, and that was just above the neck. She was wearing a red sleeveless top with a plunging neckline, tight jeans, and cowboy boots. She had a nice figure - real thin and it looked like she worked hard to maintain it. She was fairly well endowed, but not so much as to be obnoxious. I was looking forward to meeting her, and hopefully there was a brain in that pretty head of hers.

I finished my second song to another heavy round of applause, and then went back again to my table, but this time to grab my beer and change seating arrangements. Armed with my half-full beer (and the book I had fallen in love with), I made my way over to my admirer, asked if she minded if I joined her, and got a big smile in response.

"Of course," came the very outgoing response. "Hell of a voice you've got there!"

"Good thing," was my somewhat cocky response. "Those two songs don't take well to getting butchered." As I said this, we both winced at the current performer who was in the middle of a particularly off-key and prolonged note. "Case in point..." I got a laugh in response.

I took a seat next to her and continued nursing my beer - my talent diminishes greatly the more I drink, and I wanted to be sober for anything that might happen later. "Name's Matt."

"Teri. It's really nice to meet you. Have you ever been here before?"

"Nope. This is my first time - I checked this place out on the web. I'm only in town for a couple of days for a conference in Arlington."

She seemed a bit disappointed at my admission of not being local, but she smiled and continued the conversation anyway. "So what brings you to town?"

"I teach in the Navy, and I'm in town for what boils down to the annual convention for all of us shipdrivers. I made sure I did my homework for finding a place to come sing before I left - you can only hang out with the old guys for so long with their sea stories."

I kept noticing little things about Teri. She had a pierced tongue, for one. I'd heard some interesting things about what they were like, but never had the pleasure. She also preferred to lean in close when we talked, even though the music was really not all that loud, and touch me on the knee or the arm. On top of all that, she smelled awesome - like vanilla, and it was getting my gut all twisted up. Basically all the right parts in all the right places.

We talked over the music for a while. I put in for a couple more songs and waited my turn. She wanted to know if I took requests. I replied that I did, but that it was up to me whether I sang it or not. I was not particularly adventurous when it came to new songs - I had to be pretty comfortable singing them in the privacy of my car first before getting in front of people. Made a big mistake with a Cinderella song once before and it was particularly ugly.

She said, "I want you to sing 'Wild Thing' by Tone Loc. I just love that song - it cracks me up."

"Sure - I've done that one before. No sweat." So I grabbed another request slip and wrote it down, making sure I told the KJ to put that in front of my other requests. He said it wasn't a problem and I went back to my seat.

"All set," I told Teri.

"Good," was her excited response. "I've even got a surprise for you while you sing it."

Now she had me curious. What else was there to do in this place except sing and listen? There was a dance floor, but it had remained unused the entire time. I shrugged, smiled, and went back to the beer and the conversation at hand.

Three songs later I was called back up to the stage. I headed on up, and "Wild Thing's" signature drumbeat announced the beginning of the song. As I started doing my best Tone Loc imitation (besides the big, black, and bald parts), Teri sidled out of her seat and made for the dance floor with a particularly wicked grin on her face. As I sang about doing the Wild Thing, she began moving to the beat of the music, her hips, arms, head and legs taking on the full rhythm, and even the meaning, of the song she'd requested. Every now and then she would look up at me, but for the most part her eyes were closed as she danced and moved her hands all over her body, almost as though she were in some state of ecstasy. I was not the only one who noticed, either. There were quite a few others who were staring at the show. Part of me was thinking she was stealing my audience, but another part was thinking she was stealing my concentration as well.

Some other people came out on the dance floor too, but as far as I was concerned there was only one person even remotely worth noticing, and she was dancing to the beat of the song I was singing. I've seen plenty of exotic dancing, in plenty of different places, but this was amazing - she was intensely sexy without removing a stitch. And even better, as I sang "I get paid to do the Wild Thing" she opened her eyes, looked at me, and shook her head with a look that said, "not for you, Matt." I began to wonder if I had discovered my first groupie.

I finished my third song of the night to another round of applause, and went back to sit down at our table. Teri seemed to have come out of her trance and was sauntering back towards me with that same wicked grin on her face. "Teri," I said, "you did not learn how to dance like that in gym class."

"No, I didn't," was her coy reply. "I had to put myself through the last two years of college somehow. The only problem is that now when I dance that way I have to force myself to keep everything on..." She stopped and looked at what my reaction would be.

I had to squirm a bit in order to make up for the decreasing room in my jeans. She noticed, and mockingly said "awww... have I got the powerful Naval Officer all disturbed?" At this I laughed uproariously. This girl was awesome - comfortable with herself, comfortable in throwing a few jibes, and I was comfortable, well inwardly anyway, with her. And it certainly helped that she was really hot. More than just on the outside - she exuded confidence and had an extremely erotic air about her. I had a good feeling about the rest of the evening.

The night continued - I sang some more, we talked some more, and she even got me up on the dance floor with her a few times, for both some slow and fast songs. For the fast ones, she had her same ritual, but she always stayed a foot or two away from me and would not let me touch her. The way she moved was completely amazing. The first slow song we danced to, though, was a completely different story. The two of us melded together as though we were tucked inside the same outfit. She kept running her hands all over my back, my neck, and my ass, and I took my cue from her, following her lead along the same spots. I caught a few "Mmmmm's" as she would get closer to my ear, and eventually she pressed herself up against the growing bulge in my jeans. Finally she whispered, "Feels like you just might be enjoying this."

I responded with a simple "mmm hmm" and just continued to enjoy the moment. However, she was not done teasing just yet.

"Think you might be up for more than singing and dancing tonight?" was whispered about one millimeter from my ear and was followed by her teeth grabbing hold of my earlobe and tugging gently. At the same time one of her hands was dragging well-manicured fingernails along the back of my neck, sending shivers up and down my spine and making my already tightening jeans even more uncomfortable.

"So what exactly did you have in mind?" I whispered back.

"Well for starters," she replied, "how did you get here?"

"Metro subway - what time do they stop running, anyway?"

She looked at me and laughed. "About 15 minutes ago. Looks like you're stranded unless you figure something out."

"Hmmm. I don't suppose you'd be willing to give a sailor a lift, would you?" Granted, there was always the option to take a cab, but I doubt the driver would be as interested in coming up to my hotel room, which was where I had decided this scenario needed to finish up.

"That depends entirely upon how nice to me you are over the next couple of hours" was her coy reply. Obviously a challenge, but I had the funny feeling that it was going to be an easy one to meet.

"How about if I start by offering to do another request? Maybe even something I am not as comfortable with, should that be the one you choose?"

"Sure," she said. "Though you seem pretty comfortable up there regardless."

So I told her about some of my karaoke escapades. Including the Cinderella incident mentioned previously. She laughed at that, but I made certain to beg that she not ask me to do them - it had been so awful.

The night progressed, as did the dancing, singing, and talking. One of the highlights was when I convinced her to get up on stage herself and belt one out. She perused through the book and found one she liked, but would not tell me what it was regardless of how much I tried to cajole the information out of her. She simply smiled and told me to "be a good boy and wait." - Um, yeah, sure - me be a good boy out of the mouth of a woman who had been alluding to everything but for most of the evening. I acknowledged with a simple nod of the head and a change in the subject.

We got to talking about the usual stuff, where we had gone to school, how our jobs were. She worked in D.C as a fundraising coordinator in the Republican party. We swapped stories about her dealings with contributors and my dealings with students. We learned that both parties have extremely similar faults - they both try to get away with more that they ought to when it comes to our respective professions.

This went on for a few more songs until the KJ announced that it was Teri's turn for a whirl on the microphone. It seemed that Teri was a fan of country music as well, as the title screen came up with the Dixie Chicks' "Sin Wagon." I thought that it was about to be a pretty interesting show, and I also had the feeling that said show was going to be completely for my benefit.

She sang really well, as it turned out. Not a spot-on match, but then none of us in the performing crowd that night were. Her style was about like mine, though. She threw in the country twang really well, and she made sure to complete the scene by making it obvious that she was there to have fun, with a devil-may-care attitude about her talent, good or bad.

She was definitely on the good side, and she was enjoying the effect the lyrics were having on the audience. Especially me when she hit "Do a little mattress dancin'/ That's right I said mattress dancin.'" These words were pointed so directly at me it was a wonder I did not have a gaping hole in my chest. And, of course, she was moving pretty well to the beat of the song too, even though it was a bit tricky considering the speed of the music. Once again, she was the center of attention throughout the room. What I was getting a kick out of were the venomous looks from some of the other women in the crowd. Funny how some folks could not handle not being the center of attention - I got quite a kick out of it.

She left the stage to a bit more applause that I had been getting, though most of it was from some getting-on-towards-drunk guys, which made me feel a bit better about getting sort of upstaged. She sauntered back to our table with a grin on her face, as if to say "damn, I'm good." I wholeheartedly agreed.

She sat back down looking smug and we continued where the conversation had left off - something about her wanting to eventually be the First Lady. Of course I made the obvious point that she needed to find someone interested in becoming the President. Then an interesting thing happened. I found myself thinking back to all the times I had watched episodes of "The West Wing" and the movie "The American President" and thinking that it would be kinda cool to have that job. I was not sure if it was just an odd coincidence, but it was certainly interesting that here were two people who were at least remotely interested in being the President and the First Lady, respectively. I made the decision to start working towards at least pretending.

It was getting towards one in the morning and I figured I either had to get back and get some sleep or chuck it all for the potential of losing a big chunk of that sleep. Most folks were cutting out on the morning portions of the conference anyway, so if the need arose for some serious oversleeping, I was prepared to risk it. "So, Teri... About that ride..."

"What?! Are you getting tired and worn out already?" was her pseudo-indignant reply. At least I thought that was how her outcry was delivered.

"Hey - I need to at least fake alertness tomorrow," was my defensive reply. "Any chance I can catch a lift back to Crystal City?"

"Oh, I suppose. You did after all sing my request."

I took a chance. "Are there any other requests you might have of me tonight?"

Teri grinned - a wicked, yet playful, grin. "So - you are a bit more daring than the men I usually have the misfortune of meeting. They tend to wind up full of bravado and then can't even edge away from the bar. Indeed, there are a couple of things you can do for me tonight. The first is help me with my coat so we can get out of here."

"Yes, Ma'am." That was easy enough. I helped her get herself together and we strolled out to the parking lot, thanking the KJ and the bouncers on the way out. She steered me over to a black Nissan Maxima with a moon roof and unlocked the doors by remote. I strolled around to the driver’s side and opened the door for her. This fairly simple act was rewarded with a hand around my neck and a solid kiss on my mouth that set my toes to curling. She murmured shortly after she broke away, "I hope at some point you're interested in abandoning your gentlemanly facade for at least a little while..."

"Teri, I'm always a gentleman in public - if my folks ever heard otherwise I'd be in all sorts of trouble, and so would my career," was my cocky reply. "However, what goes on behind closed doors is another matter entirely. Depending on what you have in mind, of course."

"Well, Mike, let's just say that I don't think your parents or your fellow officers would take too kindly to the plans I have for you once we get back to your hotel."

Yes! She had taken care of things quite nicely - I didn't even have to ask. But I decided to play the game anyway. "But I never said I wanted you to come up with me, I just wanted a ride back," I teased.

"Then it looks like you've got quite a hike ahead of you, sailor. Still want that ride?" She climbed down into the driver's seat.

I strolled over to the passenger side and got in. "Sold to the lady in the driver's seat" I sang amusedly.

"Good - then let's get out of here." She fired up the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot. I'd taken the train in, so I had really no idea where we were headed. The person who designed DC had likely been taking opium back in the day. But she seemed to know her way around and took us on a quick trip back to my hotel where hundreds of Naval Officers were fast asleep (if I was lucky - if not, I wondered if I would catch any flak in the morning).