Rory and Aurora

I'm thirty, and Rory is twenty-five, she says. I'd seen her around for a long time but only met her this year. She wasn't like the other girls around here. She said her family had come from some Pacific island whose name I could not pronounce, and though she had been here a long time she never became one of the crowd. It's not that she didn't fit in, it's more like other people always tried to fit in with her. When there was a group of people, she might sit quietly observing and commenting occasionally, and then the next thing you know everybody is talking about the thing she mentioned, and asking her thoughts on it. If she got up to dance, everybody got up to dance. If she decided to be smart and thoughtful, everybody tried to say something intelligent. If she went wild, everybody went wild.

I was your basic dirtball guitar player. We played the songs that people liked and had a lot of gigs and I drank a lot and fucked around a lot. I mostly stayed out of jail and usually had a place to crash. Women liked me because I was in the band, and so I had a choice of places to stay, plus sometimes the other guys would let me stay on their couch. This had evolved into a kind-of steady situation where I had a basement room in Tommy's house, the keyboard player. I had my own door and his old lady put up with me, so if I didn't have any other place I'd let myself in there. I had a bathroom and a bed, what else do you need?

But back to Rory. She had her own style, which the local girls did not try to emulate. They just couldn't. She was a little bitty thing, not five foot, and built like a brick shithouse, which if English is your second language means that she had a great body. Tits out to here, a fine round ass, she was an exaggeration of perfect. But then, on top of that, she had a fashion sense that, I don't know if there is a name for it, but she tended to wear clothes like a little girl. But not. Like, little short dresses with suspenders, and these round-toed patent-leather shoes, but with four-inch heels. It was kind of a Shirley Temple style, not lurid or overtly sexual, well who am I kidding? No man could keep his eyes off her.

I first met her, like I meet everybody, at a gig. She was sitting with some girls and they came out on the dancefloor and she did not look at me, which is, first of all, weird, but I took it as more of a tease than neglect -- I knew she was well aware of me. She was wearing one of her little-girl dresses, lots of skin showing, red lipstick, a big smile for her friends as she bounced around the dancefloor.

On the break I went to their table. "Hello ladies," I said. "Good to see you out on the floor. Is there something we could play for you?" Because, look, I'm in the band, this is easy.

"Wow, I don't know," one of them said. They chit-chatted among themselves and obviously didn't really care what we played, but they didn't want me to leave their table, either.

Rory was watching the others, smiling and enjoying their confusion. I caught her eye and said, "What about you? What do you like?"

Her dark eyes turned to me, her lips shining in a smile. "Who me? Oh, I like everything."

"Everything?" We were in flirtation territory already.

"Yes, everything," she said. "Surprise me."

I had a hard-on.

Of course she came back to the basement with me at the end of the night. My pickup truck has some trash on the floor, empty cans mostly, but that seat is wide and smooth, and I took a couple of sharp turns that slid her right up against me. "Wow," she said, "Smooth."

"Yeah, I been working on that," I said.

She put her dainty hand on my thigh and we drove back to Tommy's basement.

I won't go into details, but Rory and I saw each other quite a bit over the next few months. Maybe it was the island thing, but she had an approach to sex that was unfamiliar to me. She loved the pleasure of it, receiving and giving. Seemed like she must have missed out on the whole sin-and-chastity bullshit that the American girls got; Rory was the most sensuous woman I had ever come across.

She would go down on me but I don't think she ever finished me off that way. Sex for us was a kind of flow, we would go from one thing to another and then back, and maybe end up in some twisted configuration that just happened to work. I would eat her till she came, she would suck my cock or tickle my balls until I was ready to scream, then we would shift and do something else.

But fucking, man, I tell you. She had some moves. I figured this was some Polynesian native lore or something, something women learned in her culture, but she could move her hips in ways that squeezed your cock from every angle, all at once. On the bottom, on top, sideways, from the back, whatever, she was a ballerina in bed and we spent many hours late at night just fucking like time had stopped and the world had ended and there was nothing left but the two of us.

Did I mention she was a flirt? When we went out, she had guys drooling on themselves. With just a word, a look, she'd tie them up in knots. And not just guys, you would see women blush crimson after a smile from her. She was big on the hugging thing, and men usually tried to be cool about it but women loved to hug her, sometimes with big dramatic mooo-waah kisses at the end. We went out most nights that I didn't have a gig, well it's good for me to hear the other bands in town and also sometimes you can book a new gig just by being in the right place at the right time. Rory loved to dance and she would get everybody out there on the floor, so the chances of having a good time were high.

I would like to tell you about some of the times Rory and I had together, and I will, but right now I am going to jump ahead to a particular evening.

It was an early summer week-night and we were in the pickup truck headed into town, and I said, "I notice that women are always attracted to you."

"Yeah," she agreed. "That's nice, isn't it."

"Have you ever, you know, been with a woman?"

"You mean sexually? No, I guess not." Knowing her, I took into account the possibility that she was lying, out of mischief, but it didn't matter.

"Wouldn't you want to?" I asked.

She was quiet for a few seconds. "I've thought about it," she finally said. "It seems like it could be good." Her hand was on my thigh, which was our usual way to drive around. I had a hard-on, which also was pretty usual when I was with her.

"You want to try it?" I asked.

"With who?" she looked at me with a slight expression of alarm.

"I don't know," I said. "I have never given it a thought. Just somebody."

"I might," she said. "If you were there."

"That sounds amazing to me," I said. Did I tell you, I'm no fool? "Do you want to see what happens tonight?"

"What happens?"

"Yeah we're going to Hamster's, there's usually some girls there. Maybe there'll be somebody you like."

"Wow," she said, "Yeah, I guess there are. But I wouldn't know who, or what to say."

I had to laugh at that one. "I think you'll know what to say. I can help you pick out somebody."

Her hand moved on my thigh. "Wow," she said. "I never thought that would happen."

"Well nothing has happened yet. Let's go in and see what's up, and who's there. Maybe we won't see anybody we like."

I didn't usually like Hamster's very much. It was a college place, near the campus, and they had bands but they played top forty pop music, nothing good. Still, the college students went and partied and it all seemed fine to them. It was not the hippest place in town but it was a good place to hang out, dance, drink, and not a bad place to get laid, if you're twenty-one years old and go to Chatford University, or chat-chew-you, as they called it.

We sat at the bar. The band sucked, I mean they played all right if you like that kind of stuff. It was a Wednesday night so the place was not crazy but there was a pretty good crowd. Rory got me out on the dancefloor and that was fun. She was wearing one of her little dresses and her heels and her red lipstick and she was like there was a spotlight following her everywhere. Everyone's eyes followed her, as usual, and when she threw her hands up on the dancefloor and rotated in a slow circle, flipping her hips side to side, everybody else just about stopped dancing.

One thing about Rory is that she was not really an exhibitionist; that would be a little tacky for her. I think I would call her more of a tease. Maybe even a hard-core tease. She wasn't the kind of girl who goes out in a short skirt and no panties and flashes her pinkness at surprised passersby. No, she was the kind who sometimes wears panties under a short skirt, and sometimes doesn't, and everybody wonders and everybody hopes to find out, and nobody does. Even I didn't know what she had on under that little-girl dress as we danced and drank at that college spot. And even I wondered. The difference was, I knew I would find out at the end of the night.

Back at the bar, she leaned over to me and said, "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Did you pick somebody out yet?"

"Hmm, not really," I said.

"Okay," she sounded disappointed.

I turned on my barstool to face her. "Honestly, Rory, this is kind of hard for me. If I came in here as a single guy, I know who'd I'd like to meet. But that doesn't mean it would be somebody you would like."

She gave me a big red smile. "Try me," she said.

I gulped and looked out at the room. "Okay," I said. "You see that table to girls over there?"

"Uh huh."

"The redhead in the tank top and the jean skirt?"

Rory was laughing. "All right," she said. "Same one I picked out."

"Okay," I said. "Go get her."

She slid off her stool then stopped. "What are we going to do, take her to your place?"

"I guess." My basement was kind of a mess, definitely not romantic. But like I always say, it had a bathroom and a bed. What else do you need?

"Okay," Rory said, and she strode off across the room.

I don't know how she does this. She looked stunning, marching between the tables. Each group of people stopped talking and watched her as she passed. The table with our redhead had a half-dozen college girls sipping some sort of cocktails, and they seemed to sense that Rory was headed for them, long before she was close. They stopped talking, released their glasses, their jaws dropped, and they watched her as if their were hypnotized. She could've brought the whole table of them home, I was thinking.

By the time Rory reached their table, the redhead looked like she was ready to stand up, and the others were in a poised state, too, ready to react to something. But what? I don't know what she said, probably something like My stupid boyfriend doesn't want to dance and I don't want to go out there by myself. She just arrived at their table, a few words were spoken, and the whole bevy of them got up and headed to the dancefloor.

Our taste was good. The redhead was a knockout, the quiet kind that's not trying to attract attention but once you notice her you're hooked. She wore a pink tank top and a skirt that was even shorter than Rory's, with frayed denim around her thighs. A brastrap hanging down her left arm. A casual barrette clamping her hair back. She stood tall and walked confidently, following behind Rory toward the dancefloor.

The band was playing some dumb pop thing, I don't know what, I've heard it on the radio. Maybe it was Taylor Swift or somebody, I wouldn't know, some chick singer. I prefer some blues or country, but I've played long enough to know you gotta give the people what they want. Rory's little group went to a corner of the dancefloor and began dancing. It looked like fun, some happy young women enjoying the beat and the pleasure of one another's company. Usually in this situation a woman will adopt this facial expression where they gaze off into nothingness while they go through their moves, but you don't do that with Rory. She was smiling at each of them, and they smiled back and watched her dance, mimicking her moves. It was a joy to see.

After a couple of songs the lights went down and the band started some schmaltzy ballad. I figured it was probably Ed Sheeran or Bon Jovi or something I hate (Rory just read this over my shoulder and said it was the Wallflowers). The girls went to sit down but I saw Rory and the redhead grab one another's hands and they stayed on the floor.

They began practicing a kind of box step or something, in classic dance position, looking serious about their dancing as the floor began to fill up with couples. They were laughing and talking while they worked out their steps and then I lost sight of them. When I saw them again they were dancing close, not quite like boyfriend-girlfriend close but they were just dancing. I lost and found them again and now the redhead had her head on Rory's shoulder and Rory's hand was slipping down the other girl's spine -- a move I've used once or twice myself. I lost them again and when the crowd dispersed at the end of the song they were making out in the corner like teenagers.

I glanced over at the redhead's table to see how her friends were taking it. They were actually quite good about it, yes they were staring and a couple of them were laughing but it was like you go girl. Shaking their heads. Jealous, it looked to me.

At the end of that song Rory and the redhead returned to her table and they spoke to the others for a second, then the redhead and Rory walked hand in hand back to my spot at the bar.

"Larson, this is Aurora."

"Aurora," I said. "So we've got Rory and Aurora, that's quite a mouthful."

They looked at each other and Rory said, "Yes, that's what we were thinking." And they laughed heartily. I was not sure whether the joke was their alliterative names or the mouthful part.

Aurora was drinking some expensive thing but I figured it was worth it and bought a round. I gave her my stool and stood while the two women talked, mostly to each other.

Up close, Aurora was gorgeous. I can't tell when a girl has makeup on, you know, but her skin looked so smooth and pure that I figured it was just skin. She was twenty years old, with blue eyes that killed you when she looked right at you, especially when she smiled, and I died a few happy deaths at the bar. Her tank top was the kind of thing that girls and young women wear because it's "comfortable" but, I'll tell ya, God bless 'em. Aurora was slender but, well maybe it was that top, those tits were just mouth-wateringly round and full. I couldn't wait to see where this went.

Now that things had gotten this far I realized this could get tricky. It would be terrible if we got some girl in over her head emotionally, crying for her mama or thinking we all have to have a big polyamorous marriage from now on, or something, and it would be just as bad if we picked up some jaded ho-hum-another-threesome woman who didn't really get into it or care. Luckily Rory and I both have the same way of looking at things. Lecherous, that is. Aurora was young, college-age, but had a playful and cheerful air about her. I reckoned she had had some experiences with college boys and was curious to know what else there is, and that's perfect.

Aurora addressed me: "Rory's been telling me what you guys had in mind, and, uh, I've never done anything like that before but it sounds like fun."

"Anything like what?" I asked her, to make sure we were all on the same page.

"I've never been in a threesome," she said. "Shit, I've never even been with another girl before."

"Looks like this will be something new for all of us," I said. "We just thought of this on the way over here tonight."

"Stop with the 'we' business," Rory said. "I've been thinking about it for a long time." She turned to Aurora. "This was my idea."

"I see," Aurora responded.

"But I don't think he'll mind," Rory giggled.

"I don't know what I've gotten myself into," I laughed, and when the girls turned to look at me it hit me that this really wasn't about me. They smiled politely and then went back to their conversation at the bar, looking like best friends with maybe a brother tagging along. During the conversation Rory had her arm around Aurora's waist in a friendly way, and I could see her fingers moving against an exposed strip of skin, just above the waist of her skirt, and I knew it was driving that poor girl crazy.

We finished our drinks and Rory said, "Okay, you guys ready? Larson, you got something to drink at your place?"

"I got a bottle of Jack," I said, "Is that okay?"

"Coke or something?" Rory asked.

"I think there's some ginger ale." They both nodded. I went through a ginger ale thing a few months ago, I don't know why, but there was some left.

"Let's go," Aurora said, taking the initiative. The girls headed to the door arm in arm with me trailing behind.

Rory pointed out the truck and held the door for Aurora when we got to it, meaning that Aurora would sit in the middle between us, which seemed right to me. Aurora got in and looked at Rory standing waiting, and said, "You look so beautiful in that dress and those shoes and everything. You look like a fairy or a magical being of some sort." This was something I sometimes thought, too, though I did not know how to express it.

Rory took it without blinking. "Oh, I am a magical being," she said. "I come from an island, a magical island of love." I had never heard her say that before but it sent shivers through me. She climbed up into the cab beside Aurora.

I live on the other side of town. Normally Rory would have her hand on my thigh but tonight she placed it casually on the bare skin of Aurora's thigh, whose skirt barely covered her panties. I mean she was a sight to see, a luscious dumpling sitting between us.

Rory turned to face Aurora while they chatted, and out of the corner of my eye I could see her hand working up toward the hem of that denim skirt. I had to navigate an intersection and when we re-entered traffic Rory's hand was up under the skirt, working on the girl. She put her left hand around Aurora's neck and pulled her face toward her and kissed her while she stroked her pussy, revealed when we passed under a streetlight. I don't have to tell you, I had a hard-on.

After a few minutes, I heard Rory say, "We should get you out of these."

"Good idea," Aurora said, and she lifted her hips and Rory tugged at her panties but it was an awkward angle.

"You're gonna have to get rid of these cans," Rory said, kicking them out of the way, up against the door, and she twisted her petite body and dropped to the floor of the pickup cab, facing Aurora. "Okay, here we go," she said, and this time she was able to slide the panties down Aurora's long legs and off her.

Rory sat staring at Aurora's crotch, which was at eye-level for her now. She looked up at Aurora's face, which was looking down at her curiously. "That is amazing," Rory said. "May I?"

Aurora nodded, and Rory took Aurora's right leg and put it over her shoulder, pulling her face up to Aurora's crotch. "Beautiful," she murmured before her mouth made contact with Aurora's smooth flesh.

Aurora had tipped back against me and I threw my right arm over her shoulder, where it just so happened my fingers fell just perfectly on her heavy breast. I felt around a little as Rory got situated between Aurora's legs, steering with my left hand, and we went along the main street in town like that; I was rolling Aurora's nipple between my fingers while Rory sucked on her pussy from the floor of the truck, a leg over each shoulder. Sometimes I could hear Rory slurping down there, and Aurora's breathing was turning into panting, and then panting with whimpers. She turned her head and buried her face in my chest while I drove and Rory nibbled at her tender parts, and then she gave a grunt and stiffened against me as an orgasm hit her. I think she whispered an "Oh my God" in there, I don't know, it was mostly just sounds. It was an incredibly erotic moment, my cab filled with all this electricity while the familiar town stood numb and dreary along the streets, unaware that such a thing was possible.