Salt Tequila Lime and Erica

It's the taste that brings it back, the salt sprinkled along the back of my thumb, the shot glass pinched between thumb and index finger, supported by the middle finger, while the slice of lime waits, held delicately between thumb and index finger all in preparation for...

Her name was Erica, a name resurrected between the second, or maybe third tequila solo, as the sting of the salt soaked into my tongue, washed away with warm tequila and the tart stab of lime as it spurt into my mouth. I had seen her the night before, quietly dancing with some man, while the tall blonde woman with hair down to her ass, stole everyone's attention.

The blond was impressive, just the thought of the things she could do with that long hair sent chills down my back, and she had such a strong, confident way of moving with a man that promised delights well worth the price. Her light purple halter top barely contained her firm, round breasts and her white hot pants stretched firmly over her ass, conforming to every curve of muscle. She stood just over six foot tall thanks to her high heeled, white boots

The night slipped into a gold tequila haze as the blonde hustled and some of the guys waved money and bought her drinks, the server, slipping her a quarter with each drink bought for her. In spite of the blonde's spectacle, my eyes kept returning to the tiny woman, with short black hair quietly dancing with one or another man She'd disappear from time to time, but always seemed to be dancing.

Another tequila solo and I remember her first coming to my table and telling me her name in shy, broken English, "I'm Erica, what's your name?"

"Jim," I slurred, "Quiera Tequila solo?" I asked, stretching my limited Spanish as I waved to the server. "Un Tequila solo y... que?"

Erica spoke quickly to the server and in a few moments he returned, handing me the tequila and lime, and Erica whatever she had ordered, along with a quarter, subtlety slid over the table top and tucked into a pocket in her dress.

I remember her dark eyes, nearly black as her hair, her skin also dark, much darker than mine, yet it looked so soft. Her demeanor was so understated I was shocked when she asked me, "Fucky... sucky?" her hands sensuously sliding along my thighs.

Only delaying the inevitable, I shook my head no and we finished our drinks in silence and she politely slipped away to invest her time in another man, another dance and another disappearance to one of the back rooms. I moved onto another bar, groping at anything female as we passed on the dirt roadways.

And yet it was Erica on my mind the next day, the way her dress rolled over her small breasts, the curve of her hips, highlighted in the smooth, blue print fabric, her ass, so nicely rounded. I don't know when her and I became an inevitability, but as the sun set I crossed the border and hailed a cab. Entering the bar, I moved to a table and quickly ordered and downed two tequila solos, letting the warm liquid build my courage as I looked over the bar searching for her. I spotted her dancing with a man on the far side of the dance floor.

Sitting at my table, I focused my eyes on her and didn't move them, completely ignoring the tall blonde, even as she moved over to my table. Anything that was happening around me faded to black as Erica gave a man a kiss on the cheek and then walked directly toward me, following the narrow tunnel of my vision the entire way.

Refusing to let anything penetrate the moment, I asked, "How much for a sucky?"

"Twenty five," she responded, our eyes remaining locked during the transaction.

"Solamente viente," I replied, showing her my twenty and an empty pocket. She nodded and took my hand, leading me across the dance floor and through a small curtain into the back. She opened a door into an air conditioned room and led me inside. We undressed together, me removing everything but my socks and she everything but a lightly textured pair of pink panties.

She washed my cock, gently wetting it with a cloth and then running her soapy hands over the head, running her fingers down the shaft and then back over the small hole. She rinsed with a bit of water and her damp cloth and we moved to the bed.

I briefly ran my hands over the two tiny mounds of her breasts, gently tugging a bit at her nipples. We both eased onto the bed and she moved her head to my cock as I slid my hand into her panties, grabbing the firm flesh of her ass and kneading it. Her mouth slid lightly over my cock as her head bobbed up and down.

The sensation was a cooling pleasure that immediately engulfed the length of my cock as she sucked the head and stroked the shaft with her hands. Her tongue circled over me and suddenly, I came, so unexpectedly that she couldn't move off my cock quick enough and the first spurt of my cum went deep in her mouth.

She jerked back quickly, letting the rest of my cum splash off her chin and fall onto my thighs. With a nearby towel, she cleaned up my thighs and her face, making sure to daintily spit my first spurt of cum into the towel. Somehow, the unexpected speed of my orgasm, the bit of cum that went into her mouth, the quiet cleanup where she spit my sperm into a towel and the final intimate moment when I slipped her my twenty dollar bill, all seemed oddly right.

After she asked me if I wanted to do it again, we walked arm and arm back to the bar, where I kissed her on the forehead and then watched her move to another table. I walked past the gaudy blonde and headed out of the bar, letting Erica slip away, deep into my memory, only to return with the warm, satisfying burn of salt, tequila and lime.