Nancy's Min Date

Nancy was rocked at the Robin, but now she wants to torch that bridge with a fun romantic date in public at the risque Mink Bar. This one exceeds all expectations "fun, naughty fun, and romantic fun" plus she reveals intimate flesh and a number if shocking surprises - including that Jorge's girlfriend wasn't quite according to Hoyle. Isabel is not here in person, but she is sometimes on their minds.

There is some action in each chapter, but chapter 3 involves something not typical for me which should be read lightly by fans who appreciate German engineering and have gentle souls.

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Chapter 1. At The Mink, Fun And An Old Friend

Friday December 4, 2020

Nancy called me the Sunday after Thanksgiving. She was ready to burn a bridge. At the last minute before she ended the call, Nancy coyly suggested that I might invite her out for a public and more romantic date next week. She mentioned that on Friday, the first Friday of December, Getty worked nights until 9 and he was always busy after. (During the Fall, attractive pre-Y2K autos like Mustangs and Corvettes were not safe on Friday nights.)

I took the bait and asked her out. She steered me to suggesting a posh, romantic and rather risque place called "The Mink Bar." I had never been there, but it had a reputation as THE place in town to take a woman in her skimpiest outfit. For guys it was a "jacket and tie, with dancing shoes."

Nancy had a different take. "In my long years of empirical research, Mink serves the best Cosmos in town. That is confirm by experts. I wonder how those will affect me?"

Well, we both knew the answer to that.

The Mink was a place where Getty was specifically not welcome, and not inclined to visit, because of a past dispute involving tips when he was a bus boy. The head waiter at "Mink" has a baseball bat with Getty's name on it. Management might change or forget, but the wait staff have a long, long, memory about people who "make change from the tip jar leaving counterfeit bills." The whole lineup is eager to start batting practice if Getty ever shows up, so for health reasons he gave the place a wide berth.

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The period between Thanksgiving and Graduation Day is always a strange one in academia. Faculty, or at least those in the business school who are well-organized, have given their final exams to duplication and really have very little to do, so they tend to be relaxed. Pace in the classroom tends to slow down, and classes tend to get out early. Faculty always build some slack into the teaching schedule in case a student protest or terrible weather or the death of some significant politically correct icon takes a day away from us. Student traffic to faculty offices is random as they discover questions on the material they should have read weeks age, these interruptions make it hard to work on research. Some efficient faculty tend to catch up on reading fiction or magazines in their office between student visits. I have heard rumors that some even read internet erotica in their office.

(You might think the university would monitor computer use. But that takes time and money, and such items usually do not make the budget after they have bought enough jock cups for the football and baseball and basketball and tennis teams.)

There are exceptions to the general mood of relaxation. Those unfortunate faculty members who teach material that "cannot be reduced to multiple choice" give essay exams so they are dreading the caffeine-fueled mind-numbing hellish sprint between collecting their exams (up to 200) and turning in their grades (often within 72 hours or less) they have created for themselves. The wise ones spend some of this time questioning their own sanity. Those who give class projects of an essay nature have a slightly longer period to work with, but since all the students write on different subjects (to prevent cheating), their longer mind-numbing trial is even more difficult. The assigned due date is usually irrelevant, students inevitably will not turn in their papers until the last day of classes. To expect otherwise is folly.

The university says we must be in the classroom for the scheduled final exam period to either give or review the final exam. I choose the latter, I give the exam on the last day of class, take the week to grade it, email the grades to the students, and then show up in the classroom during the final exam period. Imagine my surprise at finding nobody there. After 5 minutes of peaceful self-contemplation, I write on the board that I am in my office. I am confident I will not be disturbed as I do important things there. Reading comes to mind, the internet brings the entire library into my office.

In fact, I was so confident that I would not be disturbed, that I was tempted to invite Isabel over for another faculty office session, except I knew she was busy.

In terms of life outside the classroom building, this is also a relaxed period. Holiday shopping is not yet frantic. Travel plans are usually settled. The lawn and leaves no longer need attention, and any snow that appears will be gone soon so the snow shovel can slumber in peace, undisturbed. It is a good time to put up holiday decorations, but I tend to minimalist behavior in that realm.

My Halloween decorations lean to the macabre with dreadful loud music, screams, and signs saying "Children Seasoned and Eaten with Relish. Thanks For The Treats!" So for Christmas I tend to get a pass. If asked, I explain that my decorations of a spiritual nature - an 8-foot devils head - might frighten the children and offend the intolerant - that always shuts them up. You know, freedom of religion does not mean what it claims to mean if you root for the wrong team. Mormons know what I mean by that.

(J. Smith, who wrote the Book Of Mormon, advocated multiple wives in the Faith. The US Constitution forbids Congress from laws concerning religion. However, to gain statehood for Utah, polygamy had to be denounced as unlawful. This shows how politicians respect their highest law - getting reelected. Today, foreign nationals from oil-rich nations can enter the US with their multiple wives.)

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On our first romantic date like we were a special couple, Nancy did not wear her ring. She had firmly decided to end that foolishness since life with Getty was moving backwards at a steady rate. She was working out how and when to return the ring, trying to decide if it should be before or after Christmas, and how a lump of coal might be part of the arrangements. It was really a question of how humane she felt she needed to be? Her dad had expressed his opinion. "The decent thing is to kill an animal in pain," he said while fondling a favorite shotgun. "I got some double-aught buck I bought at a gun show." He would even be glad to clean it for her after.

Nancy knew I was keeping intimate company with a "secret somebody," but it was as purely physical as my relationship with her - which is to say there was some mutual emotion involved. She thought "the other woman" was weekly on Monday or Tuesday. I guess I had mentioned that the fun was at "her place." She also knew I might have some overnight visitors from my past life.

I knew Nancy was also seeing a female, a married woman with children. Nancy knew the woman from high school and they started to play while in college. These days they clung to each other, feeding their needs on naked sleepovers with sincere affection. But the married woman's schedule limited it to less than once a month.

Nancy is more 'cute' than beautiful. To me, from the bottom of her cute nose up she looks a lot like a young Karen Allen (Scrooged, Indiana Jones, Animal House). Her big brown eyes look like she is always in a state of incipient surprise. Below her nose the innocent look is lost; her lower jaw looks underslung and oversized, it is natural to think of sloppy blow jobs and facials in a row, not innocent kisses. Her skin is fair with a few freckles. Her breasts are smallish B-cup with oversized nipples that are very responsive; if she hears a mild risque reference in class they start to harden, so she wears a foam padded bra to keep the tips in line when teaching. When she is excited and her nipples are exposed they stand up and point taller than any nipples I have ever had the pleasure to molest. She played tennis in high school (she was a champion) and college (on the college team) and still is very competitive at it, putting in at least 8 hours a week with a coed tennis club of team alums. (Isabel is a member and strong supporter of this group, they get priority scheduling time on the indoor courts.) Muscular arms, legs and back testify to her regular hard work whacking the helpless yellow ball for hours at a time. With so much exercise her light brown hair is an easy-to-care-for length. It is longer than a pixie cut but not much; styling is pretty much blow-dry and is made easier by the cutest very tiny ears.

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For our Friday night date Nancy decided to show off her body, she wore a tiny scrap of red satin fabric disguised as a dress, a tiny cocktail number that was barely there. It had a low-cut loose hanging front that allowed me to see down her front for a clear look at her breasts and, when the angle was right, down to the slit of her pubic mound. She knew what was on view and encouraged me to look often, having me look at her body with desire made her feel beautiful. There was a bare back and sides, plus a hem so high a person just had to look to see if her pussy lips were peeking out - they were very close. A small piece of tape on each hip anchored the whole arrangement and kept her privates private. The spaghetti straps, which crossed in back and attached in front of the underarm on the other side, were designed to look like they were about to slip off, letting the dress fall exposing her body completely. The back was cut asymmetrically, it was so low on one side that it showed more than a little of the right side butt cheek. The hem was also asymmetrical, in the opposite direction. On short right side there was a gap, about an inch wide, where one could see bare flesh between the armpit and the ankle, with only a pair of wide-spaced ribbons holding the front and back together. Since the dress barely covered the essentials everyone could see the lady was not wearing any underwear with this hot satin handkerchief.

She had to show me that she had her skimpiest panties, essentially a tiny red triangle with an absorbent gusset (in case we fucked). The back and the waistband was transparent fishing line. These minimal undies were in her purse, but could be worn if there was a need. If she was drunk enough she teased that she could put them on in public - so I could remove them for the fun stuff.

I said that if she was drinking cosmos, maybe the panties would be more appropriate worn like a robber wearing a bandanna as a mask in old-time western, because I knew where I was going to end up. It became kind of a joke between us, when she caught me looking at her lips she would smile, imagining me getting her BJ, and say "naughty man" with a tone that was not unlike I was looking up her dress.

Nancy was very excited for our entire time in public together, so her very responsive nipples were standing up sharply, barely covered all evening, giving evidence of her state under the super-light fabric.

The Mink is a romantic place, most seats are in booths so the guests are more or less hidden from view, allowing privacy under the table. Tables surround a dance floor where the floor is lit but above the waist it is more shadow. The place is expensive but the atmosphere says "romance with style." It feels expensive enough to make any female in town between 21 and 40 feel "worth it." My plan was to make her feel worth it so the implied mutual feel-goods overnight at my place would turn into a long Saturday or maybe, if the stars aligned, a fun Getty-less weekend all the way to Monday. I thought Nancy needed that.

She liked this plan, it took her mind off Getty, who worked all day Saturday. Sunday was football, he had indicated last weekend that with his serious fantasy teams it might be better if she was not there. Still, since he had given her a ring (even though she had decided to return it) she promised to call him at some point.

It was about 7 in the evening when we arrived at Mink. They had just opened the doors and most of the folks were funneled to the bar to wait for a booth. But somebody in charge seemed to know "their good friend Nancy," so there were air kisses, signs of delight, and "don't you look wonderful in that... ummm... not-quite-there." I am not sure, but I believe the in charge person also managed to stroke the back of her hand along the dress over one of Nancy's breasts and her very pointy nipples. (It was cold outside.) I could make out Nancy's goose-bumps in the ultra-thin fabric. We were seated immediately at the booth Nancy shyly pointed to.

Our waitress was right behind the hostess. Her name-tag said "Katrina" but Nancy greeted her as "Jane" and they acted like an old friends. She was very attractive and looked to be about 20.

I made a lame joke about carding her and she said that she would appreciate it if I did not ask such things until her next birthday. She said it as a joke, but there was a serious tone underneath. Nancy explained later that Jane was 20 - too young for the job - but her look-alike sister Katrina was legal, so documents were borrowed and confusion was properly employed to get Jane a job.

"So how is married life treating you?" Nancy asked. Jane/Katrina had to whisper the answer, and both girls giggled at it.

We ordered Cosmos - 2 each to start - and the featured plate of tapas that Jane/Katrina said were especially good, only a limited number were made as tonight's "chef's secret." The tapas were better than especially good, the shrimp and tuna creations were wonderful.

We both know that when Nancy gets Cosmos in her system the quality of, and her pleasure in, her BJ's goes way up. I finally heard the story behind that. It seems that at a critical juncture underage Nancy was the victim of a overdose of the "Sex And The City" TV show, she binged on the entire series during an extended rainy weekend and never recovered. When she became 21 she and her cousin the cop toured all the places in town and graded the Cosmos. The Mink had the best around. The story (there were pictures on the menu) is that one the "Sex And The City" girls stopped here on the way to a political rally. Her Cosmo was good enough she ordered a second and would not leave until she finished it.

As we ate, drank and enjoyed the night Nancy and I even managed a few slow turns around the dance floor. She loved moving around the dance floor, in public, with my hands on her. What her dress might reveal was a problem with fast dances, so we stuck to the slow ones and left the minimal panties in the purse.

As we danced she made sure I could look down the front of her dress, almost like she was naked. We talked about it, how yummy her pointy nipples looked, and how when she moved just so I could see a lot of her fat lips on each side of her slit.

She wished she could see me, but even more she wanted to feel me, my lips on her body and my cock parting her labials and moving along her valley with pleasure.

We were both whispering, talking dirty in public, on the dance floor, and where Nancy is normally very shy in public this talk had her on the edge.

I was just a week after Nancy's confession of being paid to entice me, and here I treated her like a queen, or maybe a sex queen, which really impressed and relaxed her to the point where she was all over me, eager for a mouth full of my high-protein white stuff to show her appreciation.

She was so "eager" that she suggested maybe slipping into the rest rooms for a quick blow job. One of the them was known for that purpose (the door said "U n sex" like the "i" was missing) with a half dozen doorless stalls and very classy kneelers.

I declined, saying I wanted to "save my stuff" until I could have all of her sweet body naked and could return the favor with kisses all over like she deserved. I said this with meaning, while looking her in the eye. I could tell she was sure I meant it, I felt her shiver in my arms.

"You sweet wonderful man you... I can't wait."

One of my limitations is that I am not a good driver when drunk, so we played a "safe driving game" with the Cosmos. We would order a round. She would drink her's while I would drink a third to half of mine. Then with a toast to public safety we would switch glasses. While she finished my glass I would be extra friendly with my fingers under the table, giving her a thrill. She took her time enjoying it (both the drink and the fingers) then we would order another round. On the second round she found out I was also without underpants, and I seemed to have a curious hole in my pocket. She really enjoyed that discovery, sending her hand there while we waited for the next round.

Eventually it got to the point where she was sitting with her thighs spread wide, inviting my fingers to probe deep into the warm moist depths of her willing turned-on body for her pleasure. Such probings made us both very happy. The dress allowed access and the booths kept things private... except for her heavy breathing, and the view from above.

That top-down view was limited to the waitress who leaned over - slowly - to set the drinks down. She saw everything, Nancy did not hide from her friend and they both enjoyed it. Jane said "whatever you have, it seemed contagious." She asked about our "safety game" so Nancy told her everything except where my fingers were at that moment. Nancy showed that to Jane.

Jane whispered to Nancy, "naughty teacher, you are making me wet."

Sometimes my fingers could elicit other soft happy noises, like soft panting followed by a little sigh as Nancy's eyes glazed over. Our waitress happened to walk by for one of those and she had to stop so her body could hide the scene while she had to watch. Her hand rested on Nancy's, sharing feelings.

When it was over Jane scolded Nancy. "That was a very naughty thing to do here at my table! As punishment the next drink is on me. You have a very special guy here." Nancy broke up at that, her smile was about the brightest I have ever seen from her. The look the waitress gave me said she almost wished she was in Nancy's place, and if it wasn't for her wedding ring she might try.

During the next stop Jane asked me what I thought of keeping a second girlfriend, a married one. Nancy answered that. "He already has a second one, maybe married, but I get all the long weekends. Still, perhaps some sharing arrangements for special instruction can be made." Then Nancy licked her lips invitingly, and our waitress blushed like she could picture herself in the booth with me while Nancy was between her legs, on her knees.

I learned that our attractive waitress was a student at the university, although she was off this semester. She had earned two "A's" (Cost Accounting and Production) from Nancy. These were not easy classes, Production was math intensive and Cost required a lot of mental agility. (I say about Cost, every chapter has one simple question, and 5 different answers - LIFO, FIFO, Avg., Specific ID, and NIFO - it is all about context.)

There was chemistry between Nancy and Jane from the first day. In class Jane sat in the front row, Nancy is really open to connect with her students. When the second course was over they dropped the barriers. Recall that night in July when I was looking for Nancy after exercise, hoping to get lucky? Instead Nancy had gone out for drinks, dinner and a little slap and tickle with Jane! It was playful, they slept naked for two nights but neither could break the mood to actually do down on the other, so they limited their play to fingers and lips on lips and nip. Jane's husband-to-be was on a week-long fishing trip with his buddies that was sure to have a bachelor party tossed on. They got married 4 weeks later, after 2 STD tests.