It was Friday night; it had been a brutal week, long hours at the start up, no time for exercise-heck no time for play! Drake pushed open the door of his favorite night club, "Trios". It was modeled after a British pub; great beer on tap, quiet, and close to the house he shared with Colin, his bud from college years. Besides, the bar had a good (though small) grand piano and most nights, like this one, a trio was playing quiet but tasty jazz. He recognized that his musician friend Martin was playing the piano tonight.
Drake was a tall man, and at 6'2 and 190 pounds, an imposing one. Tall enough to look over the small crowd of regulars, he picked out a friend, Nicole, who was sitting at a nearby table with another woman whose back was to him, someone he didn't recognize.
His friendship with Nicole started 2 years ago with a steamy affair that lasted 2 months and then broke off by mutual consent. They'd remained friends since then-and admittedly on some nights, when both felt the need, something more than just friends. But by the next morning they'd be back to friendship, neither wanting something deeper.
Approaching the table, he saw that Nicole's companion was one of the loveliest girls he'd ever seen. Soft flowing golden brown curls framed an oval face, her skin pale with a light blush of pink to her cheeks, her eyes were deep set, green, with hints of gold. Her narrow tapered nose sat beautifully above a set of vermillion lips that wanted kissing. Her breasts were of a size a bit too large to fully cup in his large hands, and perhaps a bit big for her petite frame, and for that, all the more lovely. Her hips, at least as much as he could see with her seated, flared beautifully below her narrow waist.
"HI Drake-this is my friend Rachel," Nicole said. "She's visiting from Montana; she's in town for a long weekend."
Drake smiled at the beautiful girl "Hi Rachel. I'm delighted to meet a friend of Nicole's-may I join you?" he asked. Seeing Nicole nod, he sat down in the chair opposite Rachel.
"How do you know each other?" he inquired.
"We roomed together for 2 years in college," Nicole answered. "After I came out here to San Francisco Rachel moved back home to Butte, where she's the high school librarian." She looked fondly at Rachel and joked "Look at her-what a clichΓ©, huh? A sexy librarian!"
Rachel dropped her eyes self-consciously downward and blushed.
He responded, "I would have said a stunningly beautiful librarian."
Rachel glanced up into Drake's eyes and saw gentle humor and caring. And maybe hunger? She blushed again.
"Yeah," Nicole continued "Rachel told me she needed to get away from Montana-she's here to let go and have a wild weekend!"
"Nicole!" Rachel protested. "I can't believe you said that!"
Nicole laughed at her discomfort. "Honey--Drake is one of the good guys, and you can trust him completely. Maybe he can help!"
Drake could clearly see the poor girl was embarrassed. He let the comment slide.
He steered the conversation to their time together in college. Nicole admitted she'd been the wild one, and Rachel the bookish one. They reminisced on college life. Nicole acknowledged that Arizona State, where they both had gone, had a deserved reputation as a party school, and she had fit the mold. Rachel said she'd spent most of her time in the library studying. They talked about favorite classes and activities while in school; Drake shared some memories about his time as a student at Dartmouth, from which he'd graduated 5 years earlier.
Soon one of the regulars came up to their table and asked Nicole to dance, which she gladly agreed to, leaving Rachel and Drake at the table. Drake noted that Rachel looked uncomfortable, glancing around the room, not meeting his eyes.
"Do you like to dance?" he asked her.
"Well," she replied, "I danced a lot in junior high and high school, jazz and modern dance, but in college I didn't have a dancer's body, so I stopped. And honestly there isn't much chance to go dancing where I am in Montana."
Drake wasn't sure what she meant about not having a dancer's body, but wondered if her delectably large breasts might have been the issue-the dancers he knew were pretty flat chested. Wisely, he kept that observation to himself.
He took her by the hand and said, "Come on then beautiful, you and I are going to dance!"
She allowed him to tug her onto the dance floor.
As she walked before him, he took a moment to take in her outfit. She had on a tight sleeveless deep red blouse of a shimmering material that buttoned up the front, and a short flared black mini skirt that stopped high on her thighs. On her feet were a pair of 3-inch stiletto heels of a red that matched the blouse.