Summer in the Hamptons

As Mike rode his cab downtown, he directed the cab driver to a small bar that he knew in the West Village, a block or two from the West Side Highway and he walked in. There was a seat available at the bar, so Mike sat down and waited for the bartender, George, to notice him. As he finished serving a man at the end of the bar, George turned, spotted Mike and walked towards him.

"Hey, Mike! Long time no see. How're you doing? What's your pleasure tonight?"

Mike smiled, "I'm in need of a stiff one."

A voice to his right said, "You and me both, Honey."

Mike turned to look and saw an elfin face framed by a blonde pageboy hairstyle. The face wore a half smile and one eyebrow was raised slightly as she looked up at him.

"Well, actually, I meant I need a stiff drink."

"That would do to be going in with, Honey."

Mike turned back to the bar. "I'll have a vodka martini, very dry and dirty, straight up with olives. This young lady looks as if she needs a refill."

George looked at the girl, who nodded and he said, "OK – one vodka martini, one passion fruit daiquiri coming up." As George turned to mix the drinks, Mike turned to look at his new friend. She was still giving him a half smile and he allowed his eyes to wander over her as he introduced himself. He saw that she was wearing a loose fitting black jacket that concealed her figure and that her legs were hidden by an equally loose fitting pair of pants.

The drinks arrived and Mike raised his to the girl. She raised hers to him and they each took a sip. She told Mike that her name was Lucy and that she worked in an investment bank in the Financial District. She had been there for about two years and it was her first job after getting her MBA from Yale.

Mike asked her how she liked it and her face darkened. "The job's fine," she said. "It's the arseholes that I have to work with that's the problem."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the men are all such dorks. And they patronize me because I'm a woman. Take tonight as an example." Mike said nothing, but raised an eyebrow and looked interested. "We had a huge meeting today with some really major clients from out of town. I did nearly all the work, all the research and setting up the PowerPoint presentation and I was all set to make the presentation when my dumbass boss comes in to take over. He had me organize the damned coffee and cookies. Lucky I was there when he finished, 'cos he couldn't answer their questions. I could, but a couple of the guys kept butting in. It was like I was a fucking nobody. Then, afterwards, when we were all supposed to take these people out for dinner, they told me that I couldn't go, as they were going on to Scores and it would be bad for the bank's image for me to be seen in a lap dancing club."

Lucy took another sip of her drink and stared at Mike. She carried on, "It was the same when the bonuses were paid out. I got less than the guys, because my boss reckoned that they needed more than me 'cos when they dated they had to pay, but when I get taken out on dates it's free for me. Like I don't have to pay as much rent as they do, or spend so much on clothes. It's not even like I get asked out for dates!" She gulped at her drink and then stared at Mike in horror. She put down her glass, put a hand on his and said, "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I don't even know you and here I am complaining about my life to you."

Mike thought about patting her hand, but remembered Lucy's complaint about being patronized and didn't. Instead, he just looked her in the eyes and said, "That's OK. If it's bothering you that much, then it's a good thing to get it out of your system and it's often easier to talk to a stranger. I'm a good listener and I have no other plans for the evening, so you carry on."

Lucy's face relaxed a little. "You wouldn't understand." she said.

Mike did now take her hand in his. "Try me. I know hard it is for women in your business. There was something in the paper the other day about a group of women suing the bank where they work for billions because they had to put up with the sort of crap that you're getting. I hope they win, then it should get better for the rest of you."

Lucy looked up at him with a skeptical expression on her face, "Do you really believe that?"

Mike smiled, "Of course I do. You're the one with the MBA – you tell me where it's written down that the financial world is fuelled by testosterone?"

Lucy's face hardened. "It may not be written down, but it's engrained in the fucking culture."

Over three or four more drinks, Mike listened sympathetically as Lucy bemoaned the lot of women in the financial world, her own lot in particular. After a while, she stopped complaining about work and moved on to her social life – or lack of it. It seemed that she hadn't dated for the whole time she had been in New York. None of the men with whom she worked were interested in her. When the time had come to arrange the house share in the Hamptons for the summer, she had been left out. She had managed to find a place with a couple of old college girl friends, which was actually quite pleasant as it was in an unfashionable area and she didn't have to spend time with her colleagues who just wanted to get drunk all weekend and have prostitutes visit.

When she began to lament her loss of a social life, the look of anger on her face was replaced by one of sadness. She had enjoyed dating at college and missed it. Mike looked at her and commented, "I can see why the men don't want to date you."

Lucy glared at him, "Oh, you can, can you? You want to explain it to me?"

Mike smiled, "They're scared of you." He held up his hand to quiet her as he continued, "You're young, you're very attractive but you have a brain. Probably a better brain than most of them. They're young, too and they want to go out with women that they can boast to and try to impress with their platinum credit cards and Dolce & Gabanna suits. They know that you won't be fooled by that for a minute."

"So what do I do?"

"Look elsewhere. There are any number of dating agencies, both on line and off. And if that doesn't work . . . . . "

"What?"

Mike grinned, "You can always go out and pick up a stranger in a bar!"

Lucy smiled and ordered another round of drinks. She got down from her seat and headed for the rest room. When she got back, she was a little unsteady on her feet and it took her a couple of goes to get back onto her stool. She toyed with her drink, then turned to Mike. "I don't think I should have any more. You've been an angel, listening to me going on. Would you do me another favor?"

Mike replied, "If I can."

"Would you walk me home? I've had more than I should and I want to sober up a bit."

"Is that all? Of course." Said Mike indicating to George that they wanted their checks. As their credit cards were being processed, Lucy reached into her tote bag and pulled out a pair of sneakers. She kicked off her Jimmy Choos, which were not made for walking more that half a block in comfort and struggled to try and maneuver her foot into a sneaker. It was obvious that she was not going to achieve this without falling off the stool, so Mike took the shoe from her, knelt down, placed it on her foot and laced it. Without a word, he reached up for the other sneaker and did the same. He picked up the lethally heeled shoes and handed them to Lucy to put in her bag. When they had signed their bills, leaving George a generous tip, Mike helped Lucy down from her seat and they went towards the door.

As they left the bar, Mike asked where she lived. She gave an address that was some 15 blocks uptown and they made for the Hudson River to stroll up the Greenway. Lucy tucked her hand in the crook of Mike's arm as they walked and they began chatting about politics, the news, anything, in fact, but Lucy's work and life, which it seemed she thought she had already covered in ample detail. As they approached her street, Lucy turned towards the river and looked across at the lights on New Jersey. Mike leaned on the guardrail beside her and gazed at the river. A few ferries could be seen, a tug pushing a barge and a party boat, brightly lit, went by the thump of the bass notes from the onboard disco clearly audible across a quarter of a mile of water. Lucy suddenly turned towards him, stood on tiptoe, put her arms around Mike's neck and kissed him on the lips.

"Thank you." she said. "I feel a lot better now. You're a good listener."

Mike shrugged his shoulders. "Happy to help. Now, where do you live? Let's get you home, if you've sobered up enough!"

Lucy gave a light laugh and took his hand as they crossed the highway and went into a street between two old buildings that looked as though they had once been warehouses. Lucy stopped at the first doorway and fumbled for her keys. "Will you come in for coffee, or something?" she asked. Mike nodded and they entered through the double set of doors, walked past the mailboxes and made for the elevator.

"Don't you want your mail?" he asked. Lucy stopped, said, "Thanks" and retrieved several glossy catalogues and a couple of envelopes from the box labeled 4B. She looked through it, muttered, "All crap, as usual." and dumped it all into a large garbage can thoughtfully placed nearby and which was almost full of catalogues. They made for the elevator and Mike pressed the button for the fourth floor. Lucy smiled at him, "Smart boy – you saw which mailbox I opened."

At the fourth floor, they turned left and walked down a short passageway to the door labeled "B" and Lucy let them in. As she turned on the light, Mike saw a comfortable, but compact, loft apartment. On the left of the door was a closet and doorways leading to a tiny kitchen and slightly larger bathroom before the room opened out to a living area, containing a desk holding a computer, a comfortable leather sofa and a large coffee table. The far wall was dominated by a big window looking out over the river and on the right hand wall was a large, flat screen TV. Turning, he saw wooden steps leading to the space above the kitchen and bathroom, which he assumed held a bed. Lucy retreated to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of wine, a corkscrew and some glasses.

"Would you open this while I go to the bathroom?"

Mike opened the wine – a very respectable Bordeaux, he noticed – and sat on the sofa. When Lucy returned, she put her jacket over the back of the chair by the computer desk. Mike glanced at her as he poured the wine and saw that she had a very slim figure now covered by a silk blouse. Lucy sat down on the sofa, tucked her legs under her and turned to face him. Mike took off his own jacket and threw it over the arm of the sofa. He raised his glass, "What shall we drink to?"

Lucy thought for a moment and raised her own. "To ships that pass in the night." They clinked glasses and sipped the wine. They both began to speak at once, stopped, smiled and waited for the other to begin. "What were you going to say?" asked Lucy.

"I was about to compliment you on this wine," said Mike, "It really is very good."

"I know," smiled Lucy, "When I was at college, I spent every summer on a vineyard in France. I like wine and wanted to learn more. This is a bottle from that vineyard and I don't waste them on just anybody. You've been very kind to me this evening."

Mike shrugged deprecatingly and sipped the wine. "Those men you work with have no idea what they're missing. Beauty, brains and a knowledge of fine wines. They don't deserve a date with you, even if they had the sense to ask for one."

Lucy giggled, "You're right. All they want is bimbos. Because I have it in my skull and not on my chest, they aren't interested. Sometimes, though, it might be nice to be appreciated as a woman." A wistful look returned to her face.

Mike put down his glass and leaned forward. He kissed the end of Lucy's nose and sat back up. "If it helps, I think you're a fantastic woman. The combination of great looks and intelligence is something that I find a real turn on."

Lucy looked back at him. "You're getting turned on by me?"

Mike was surprised to find that, despite his time with Joanne and Miriam earlier, he was starting to feel a twinge in his groin. "Absolutely!" he said. Lucy put her own glass down and leaned forward in turn to kiss Mike's mouth. They shuffled their bodies close to each other and embraced, a little clumsily until they got their arms sorted out and kissed. At first, their pecks at each other's lips were ill coordinated, but as they got used to each other, they became longer until, after a short while, their mouths began to open. As their tongues started to take turns in exploring each other's dental work their hands began to roam over each other's backs.

It didn't take Mike long to discover that Lucy wasn't wearing a bra and he began to run his finger tips lightly up and down her spine. She returned the favor and both found themselves breathing more heavily. They broke apart, briefly and Lucy pushed her legs from under her and sat more squarely on the sofa. Mike leaned across her, they resumed kissing and Mike found that the change in position had brought his right hand from Lucy's back to her side. He lowly moved it nearer to her front and was rewarded by her tongue dancing more rapidly against his own. Her left hand had moved from his back to his stomach and as his right hand began to stray upward, hers moved down. As his hand cupped her small, firm breast with its surprisingly large, taut, nipple he felt her hand graze his slowly engorging penis. As he reached for the buttons on her blouse, she let go of his penis and pulled her mouth from his.

"No" she panted, "Not here. We're both too old to make out on the sofa like a couple of kids." With that, she grabbed her wine glass and made for the steps leading up to her bed. Mike grabbed his own glass and the bottle and followed her. At the top of the steps was a small, carpeted area with a rail to the right, a nightstand at the end and a queen size bed on his left. They placed the wine on the nightstand and embraced again, kissing furiously as their hands roamed freely over each other's upper bodies. Mike unbuttoned Lucy's blouse as she undid his shirt, then, realizing it would be quicker, they began to remove their own outer clothing. Lucy was ahead of Mike, as cotton slacks are easier to remove than leather pants, but before long they were both lying on the bed, he in his boxers and she in a pair of sheer, black silk panties.

They rolled together and as they kissed, Lucy rolled on top of Mike. His hands resumed their caressing of her back, his fingers playing her protruding vertebrae like a harp. As his hands moved to her waist, he edged his thumbs beneath the elastic of her panties and began to ease them down. Lucy eagerly helped, raising her hips and used one hand to help to push them down. Rolling to one side, she pulled off her last garment and reached for the elastic at Mike's waist. Eagerly, he raised his buttocks and allowed Lucy to remove his underpants. He turned on his side to face Lucy and once more allowed his hands to roam. He caressed, no, he groped her breasts and lowered his lips to them. He heard her moan as he put his lips to her nipples, one at a time and suckled like a baby.

His hand moved down her belly, through the coarse blonde hair on her pubic mound, until it met the slickness of her outer lips and the pulsating bulge of her clitoris. He dipped the tip of his finger in her slippery opening to moisten it and began to gently tease her clitoris. His fingertips danced a small gavotte on her most sensitive parts, tripping daintily into the hot, wet softness of her vagina and back to her clitoris establishing a gentle rhythm. Lucy whimpered and said, "Oh, God! It's been so fucking long!" Mike continued gently to tease her, until she said, "Fuck that - I can do that for myself. What I need, is, this!"

With that, she flipped Mike onto his back, flung her leg over him and knelt astride him. With a wild look on her face she grabbed his penis, aimed it and quickly impaled herself on him. Mike watched himself slide into her unresisting vulva; she was so wet that he could hardly feel her, just a hot wetness. Lucy settled herself and said, "Shit! That feels so fucking good! I think I'd come if you even moved a tiny bit." Mike reached up to gently pinch her swollen nipples and gave a twitch of his pelvis. True to her word, Lucy convulsed as a small orgasm raced through her body and Mike felt a wet sensation on his scrotum as her fluids leaked from her. She allowed her upper body to collapse on top of Mike and he continued to thrust gently up into her and stroke her back and buttocks gently as she quivered. Slowly, she stopped moving and gently maneuvered her legs so that they were straight on either side of his.

Mike continued stroking her back and gently undulating his hips, as Lucy lay atop him. Slowly, she began to respond to his movements, raising and lowering her own hips to meet his movements. Gradually, their pace increased and Lucy raised herself on her arms to look down at Mike as she began to set the ever increasing pace. Mike reached up to squeeze her breasts as she began to move even faster, adopting a rotating movement to rub her clitoris against the base of his penis. Again, she was so wet that Mike found little difficulty in holding back his own orgasm, as there was so little discernable movement on his glans, but he found it very arousing to watch the expression on Lucy's face as she rode him. Her movements became erratic and then she let out a squeal as she went rigid.

Her eyes closed and a red flush spread over her upper chest. She shook violently several times before, once again, collapsing flat on top of Mike, who held her close as she shuddered through a second orgasm and more fluid poured down Mike's scrotum to soak into the bedding beneath. Slowly, her breathing slowed and Mike realized that Lucy had gone to sleep. As he held her close, to avoid disturbing her, he felt his erection start to fade and he felt his soft penis slip from her sopping vagina and begin to grow cold as it dried.

After a few minutes, Lucy stirred, rolled of Mike and lay on her back with a smile on her face. Mike reached to the nightstand and passed over her glass of wine before reaching for his own. She raised herself onto one elbow and turned to face him as she sipped. "Holy crap, Mike, that was amazing. I've never come twice so quickly. What did you do to me?"

Mike smiled at her, "I just lay there and let you get on with it. I think I just needed to be here and bring a cock with me - that was all." Lucy snuggled up to him, "No," she said, "It has to be more than that. I don't usually even kiss on a first date and I've never had orgasms with a guy until at least the fourth or fifth fuck."

"Maybe it's my stunning body and amazing personality?"

"Whatever it is, it's working." She sipped her wine. "Can you stay? I don't think I've finished with you, yet and you didn't come, yet, did you?"

"Yes I can and that's OK."

"Great!" said Lucy, "C'mon, we're all sweaty and slimy. Let's take a shower and cuddle up under the covers."

They got up and went down to Lucy's tiny bathroom where they squeezed into the shower. Lucy got the temperature just right and they luxuriated in the hot stream. She passed Mike the body wash and turned her back. Mike began to wash her back and when she turned round, he began with her shoulders, moved on to her breasts and then down to the thick blond bush. As he began to wash her vagina, she stopped him.

"I'm sorry, honey, I'm a bit tender there. Do you mind?"

"Of course not – why should I mind? It was me that made it that way!"

Lucy laughed and took the body wash from him. She began to wash his chest and then rubbed her soapy hands down his stomach to take hold of his growing penis. She gently stroked and caressed it until it was fully erect and then waited for the soap to wash away before pushing Mike back out of the water stream. "Your turn, honey." She said, as she knelt down, gently peeled back his foreskin and took him in her mouth.