On the Prowl

Here I am staring in the mirror. I look like shit. Fortunately I haven't lost any teeth this time, but the nose is broken, again. Why does this always happen? Of course, the answer is simple enough; I set myself up. God, I hate this part. Pressing both hands to my nose I straighten it. Tears welling in my eyes I can see that it's red and swollen. It'll grow pale and the swelling'll go down in a few days. I'll use that time for my bruised ribs to heal. The knuckles, they always take the biggest beating in a fight and it shows. I have to knock this shit off, or I'll permanently disable or disfigure myself. What will the ladies think of me then?

I lead a solitary life. It's filled with work and women. The work is driving a local transfer truck dispatched out of a warehouse. Ever since I paid the tractor off I've been making pretty good money. Well, enough money to support my habits and then some. My dispatcher doesn't care how awful I look when I come in showing that I pissed someone off just as long as I get there early and make the deliveries on time. I get there early to get the best routes. This morning is no exception. My route should take me through most of the afternoon to complete and then it's back to the warehouse, drop off the signed manifests and go home.

When I get home the aches and pains are now a low throbbing that reminds me I'm healing. A hot shower and careful grooming and I'm good to go for another night looking for ladies. Most men spend a lot of time thinking about women and having sex with them. I'm no exception. My problem is that I'm attracted to women that already have a date, boyfriend or husband. I guess the attraction is that unattached women are that way for a reason, and the attached ones are that way for a reason, too.

Sure, there are very desirable unattached women out there but I try to steer clear of them. Usually they're either just coming off a breakup or fucked up (they can be both). I avoid them because I don't want to have to deal with their drama and emotional baggage. So, it's off to one of the local hangouts that are well known and used for hooking up. Just a quick question, why do guys bring their women to these places? I mean, they know they're going to be hit on. Unless they like getting pissed off and probably in a fight, why bother? But, they do and that's where I come in.

I think I'm an average looking guy when not healing. When everything is in place and its normal shape, size and color I don't stand out in a crowd. While I don't dress expensive I dress and groom very clean. Experience tells me that that is high on a woman's priority list and one of the first things she notices. I'm guessing they have their own fantasies; chief among them is that they don't picture themselves going to bed with a dirty smelly brute.

I'm not into one-night stands although I have plenty of them. It's just that, given a choice I'd like to string as many nights together with one woman as I can. It saves the wear and tear on my body and gives me more time to enjoy them. I try not having sex with more than one woman at a time. It just gets too complicated separating them out in my mind and I'm really afraid I'll call one by the other's name. What's the worst that can happen if I do? Not much, except that we're probably history and I always have the other to fall back on. It's just that I don't want to disrespect them. After all, they're sharing their most prized possession, their bodies with me. Why would I abuse that?

So, here I am at Sonny's Bar nursing a beer, looking and smelling good with my back to the room. I always start out using the mirror behind the bar to check out the crowd. Harry's tending bar tonight and a friend. He knows me and what I'm about. If there are women on the prowl, or outstanding that makes the effort worthwhile he'll let me know. Tonight it's a group of three off to the side but close to the dance floor. They've been taking turns coming to the bar for refills. Harry tells me the brunette's approaching. He moves over and starts saying something as if we're talking so she'll nestle in next to me.

Her perfume arrives before she does. She smells nice. Her reflection says she's probably late 20's, early 30's. Everything else is average or better except the smile. It has a personality of its own. "Hey, sorry to interrupt but can I have two Miller Lite's and a Rob Roy?"

"You're not interrupting. We were just talking about your beautiful smile. Harry, fix the lady up, will you? Which one are you?"

"Huh? What do you mean, which one am I?"

"Beer or the Rob Roy?"

"Oh, I'm the Rob Roy. So, you think I have a nice smile?" [If she hadn't answered that way I would have told her I could see that smile across a darkened room, or some trash like that.] I told her that, anyway. She turned to face me and leaned on the bar and put her arm on the bar top. She smiled and the room lit up.

"It's nice to get an unsolicited compliment. I'll take it assuming it was offered with the best intentions." At this point I could have gone into the 'aw, shucks, I didn't mean anything by it, please excuse me for being so forward' routine. Her self-confidence told me to be a little more forward.

I went with, "Anyone with that smile has my attention. I'd like to get to know you better to see if the rest of you matches up. Harry, I'll get these. Hold my drink, will you? Come on, let me help you and you can introduce me to your friends. After that maybe we can do that get-to-know-you-better thing. Say, why don't you leave your drink here? Harry'll hold them for us till we get back, okay?" I grabbed her beers before she could answer and started for her table. She stood there with one hand on her hip and head bent to the side, smiling as if I was funny. She turned back to Harry and said something before following me, leaving the Rob Roy on the bar.

That's all I needed to know to take it to the next level. "Hi, ladies. I'm your server tonight. My name's George, as in Clooney. Yeah, except my name isn't Clooney. Here're your beers. Seriously, I'm not your server it's just a pickup line only I'm not trying to pick you up. Oh, there you are. Can you introduce me to your friends?" I leaned over and whispered, "I'm George" in her ear.

"This is Ann Marie and Julie. This is George."

"We know. He's not Clooney."

"Could you excuse us, we left our drinks at the bar and a whole bunch of questions I'd like to ask?"

Ann Marie and Julie looked at their friend to see if it was all right with her, and then each other before breaking out in smiles wishing us well. I took her hand and led her back to the bar. Grabbing our drinks I said, "Find us a place where we can hear each other and I can see that smile."

We sat at a small table away from the crowd but in sight of her friends. "So, who are you and what brings you out on a weekday evening?"

"I'm Dara. Hey, don't overdo the smile thing. There's more to me than just that."

"That's what I'm hoping."

"We're celebrating. Annie's divorce finalized today and Julie's husband is out of town. Me? I'm unattached. I'm coming off a failed relationship. I didn't want to rush into anything on the rebound. So, it's been about three months now and everything is starting to feel normal, again. No, I haven't given up on men, yet. I can't see a life without them."

It was at this point that my thing about unattached women started kicking in. Maybe I should just cut and run?

"What do we do? We don't work together. We're just good friends that go back a ways. We're from the area. I'm a photographer, a photographer's assistant. I like it because it allows me to express my creativity. Every day's different and my boss teaches me a lot. I'm good enough that he sends me out on assignments by myself. Yeah, I'm well known and the future holds promise. That's why I'm smiling. Ann Marie is an accountant. Her ex was her partner. That made the divorce more complicated than it needed to be. Don't ever think accountants are dull. Annie's a firecracker and keeps us all laughing and wondering what'll she do next. Julie is a stay-at-home mom. She's the only one with kids and loves it. So, that's the short story on us. What do you do?"

"I'm an independent contractor in shipping and freight transfer. It's not glamorous but it's steady, the pay is good and I'm home every night. The hours are good, too. I can generally make it here for dinner and a beer before the kitchen closes. Speaking of dinner, have you had something to eat? I'm starved."

We spent the next hour or so eating, drinking and talking. She was interesting and funny, and, of course, when she turned the smile on I sat back and enjoyed it. Maybe I could relax my no-unattached-women rule this time. I do that occasionally when there aren't any alternatives around. I guess I didn't scare her because she spent most of the prime hookup time with me.

I always like a cup of coffee after a steak. While we waited for it I asked her to dance. Nothing wild, just slow enough that we could dance with each other and not gyrate around the floor. By this time her friends were dancing and had a couple of guys on their strings. Ann Marie was getting into it. Julie was having a good time but held back a little.

We got back to the table as the coffee arrived. She was on her?th Rob Roy and handling it well. I looked up after getting the coffee ready to find her checking me out real close. Almost like studying me. "What?"

"You know, as a photographer I spend a lot of time studying people to frame shots and figure out the best lighting. Before I even take the picture I know if it will be flattering or something special. It all has to do with the subject. Bone structure, features, complexion, muscle tone, you know, the stuff that makes them them. This is especially true when their face is an open book about their life. Every now and then someone comes along with enough of that stuff going on to make a truly great picture.

"I've been looking at you closely for some time now and think you might be one of those people. Would you be interested in posing for me?"

Huh? What was this? Did this woman have a great pickup line, or what? If there was any good news here it was that I had something (?) she wanted. Pressing the advantage I answered, "Damn. And, here I thought you were interested in me because you found me attractive. Now I find out that's all I am."

"Oh, no, not attractive, interesting. God that sounds awful. I'd say you're handsome in a hard sort of way. Here. Let me show you what I mean." With that she reached over and touched my eyebrow. I winced and pulled back. It's where I took a left hook. I didn't see it coming. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you're hurt. I'm really very, very sorry. Are you okay?" She was desperately trying to make her point without offending me.

Before this got out of hand I told her I understood. Then to make sure she knew she hadn't hurt me I said, "I'm getting better. Maybe it's these bumps and bruises you find interesting?"

"That may be. Tell you what. I need to get you in front of a camera before you heal too much. I sound kind of morbid, don't I? What's the soonest you could come by the studio?"

"Tomorrow, after work. Do you want me cleaned up or not?"

"Oh, no. Don't clean up. Come in from work. If we need to we can clean you up at the studio. Bring a fresh change of clothes just in case."

"On one condition. We go out on a date, a real date this weekend."

"Sure, I'd like that. Here's my studio address and phone number. Here's my landline phone number, and here's my cell. Here, take my cell and key in your number. If you can't make it for any reason call me and we'll reschedule. Okay? Good."

I didn't take her home. I lost that chance to her friends but I had lined something up for tomorrow night so this evening wasn't a total loss. I made it to her studio shortly after 5. I thought I could work on her while she was taking pictures and maybe we could go out after. Who knows where the evening could end up? She threw a monkey wrench in the works by having her boss there to help with all the technical stuff. From the beginning it was clear he was letting her make all the decisions. I'm guessing he was doing this so she could claim credit for her work.

I didn't know what they were doing or why but every so often they'd change things around. When they did they'd call me over to see the latest pictures on a computer screen. They explained the differences between shots and what they were trying to do. At first it was interesting but soon was over my head.

Then Dara asked me to take off my shirt. She took a few shoots and then reviewed them with her boss. After a few minutes, she came over and said they wanted to try something to accent my muscle definition. While he worked the lights she started rubbing me down with vegetable oil. "This will be a pain in the ass to wash off. We have a shower here so it shouldn't be too big a deal."

I'm not sure what was going on here. We started out taking pictures of my face and head. Now we're on to my chest. What's next, my dick? By now we had been at it for about an hour when they suggested a break. I lounged around with just my pants and work shoes on. I couldn't put my shirt back on because of the oil.

Back to work Dara tells me she wants me to strike a heroic pose (?). I remember the shots and statues the Communists used to tell themselves that they were making sacrifices for their revolution. She is going for that look. She looked through several cabinets filled with junk and came away with a logging chain and sledgehammer. She had me wrap the chain around my wrist, holding it close at the end, and the sledgehammer by its handle just below the working end. With a foot resting on a fake rock she had me staring off in the distance with a tired look. Boy, they really liked the shots they took. "George, the Communists could have won the Cold War if they had you for their propaganda machine. This is great stuff. Let's take it a step further. Drop the pants and we'll try it again. No leave the underwear on unless you want to take them off. Let me rub your legs down with the oil."

What the fuck was going on here? I've never been ashamed of my body and wasn't now. Why don't I call her bluff? Something is not what it seems. Maybe this will make getting her in bed easier. Hell, I'm doin' it. I took my pants and shorts off and stepped out of them while Dara got the oil. I quickly tugged on my dick before she turned around to make it longer. It was still soft. She turned and came toward me as if a guy she hardly knows standing in front of her with his dick hanging out happens all the time. Maybe it does?

"Here, put a foot on my thigh so I can oil you." I'm standing on a raised platform. She puts a foot on it to give me something to step on. "Put a hand on my head to steady yourself. That's good. Okay, give me a minute and we'll do the other foot and calf." You've got to picture this if you can. Here I am, naked as a jaybird with my foot resting on her thigh midway between her knee and pussy. Because I'm on a platform my dick is at eye level, inches from her face and my hand on her head. Oh, sweet Jesus, if I start getting a hard on it'll smack her in the mouth! Goddamn it. Here it comes. Just then she stops and backs away changing her foot on the platform. "Okay, give me the other leg." It starts all over. I'm giving her a salute. She can't help but notice. She looks up at me and says, "I'll get to that in a minute," and continues as if nothing's going on. I mean, all she has to do is open her mouth, I gently pull on the back of her head and thrust my hips, and I'm in. This is the craziest thing I've ever done.

She finishes with the second leg and steps back. "Turn around and spread your legs." Oh fuck, here it comes. Her oily hands rubbing up and down my thighs, inside and out, shit, she might as well be jerking me off. Now it's the cheeks of my ass. There she goes for my ass crack. I mean, what's that all about? No camera can see in there unless my cheeks are spread. Holy shit! Is she planning to do that? Uh oh, there go the balls. Is she oiling them or playing with them? This is crazy but it sure feels good. "Okay, turn around." Good thing she stepped back. I've got a ragging hard on. She puts more oil on her hands and rubs it into my abdomen and then the groin. Last is my dick. She's giving it a good jerk and is probably putting more oil than is needed but I'm not complaining.

She's keeping a close eye on my pee hole. When she sees me oozing some juice she stops, rubs her thumb on the tip and says, "That should do it." I'll say. She stopped me just short of giving her the best I've got.

"Okay, let's see what we've got." Dara gets behind the camera and fiddles with it, looks through it and fiddles, again. I guess she's not happy with what she sees. Is it me, my dick or she hasn't got things lined up the way she wants? It'd be the first complaint I've had about my dick. I'm still holding the chain and sledge. How does someone look heroic with a hard on? Her boss comes over and makes a few suggestions. I've been so focused on Dara and my dick that I forgot about him. She's bobbing her head up and down listening to him when there's banging on the front door. She comes back to me and grabs my hips and moves me where she wants me while my dick is inches from her face. Now it's my turn to bob. She ignores me. Then it's back to the camera for more fiddling.

Meanwhile her boss goes to the front of the studio and I hear the door being unlocked and opened, and some mumbled conversation. The door closes and is locked. He comes back into the studio to see how Dara's doing. Close behind is Ann Marie and Julie. Holy shit! "Hi, Georgie," they called out in unison with big grins on their faces. Each had a large gym bag like thing over their shoulders.

"I kind of lied last night when I said we didn't work together. They model for me sometimes. Yup, Annie's full-time job is accounting and Julie's the housewife I told you about. No, I didn't lie or mislead you about anything else.

"What's going on here? Well, in addition to character studies of interesting looking people I also dabble in the erotic. I was hoping to get you to do some naked stuff for me, too. The girls have come in to provide background for some of the shots. I want to do it at least two ways: them oiled up like you, and with a lot of makeup to create an interesting contrast to your tired and worn look. Then, if we have time I'd like all of you to get cleaned up and we do some stuff without the oil. You know, them draped all over you and such. What do you say? Are you up for that? The girls are, right, Girls?"

"Whatever you want, Dara."

"So, what do you say? Yes. Yes. Last night was a set up. We were looking for someone like you. I guess you could say we got lucky. I could also say, you got lucky but you're the best judge of that. So, what is it? Do we continue or call it a night?

"Hey, thanks, Charley. Yeah, I'll be fine now that Annie and Julie are here. Lock the door behind you. We'll clean up and lock the place tight when we're done. Good night."

All three turned to me with questioning looks on their faces. What would you do? I'll tell you, I wasn't so sure it was a no-brainer. I mean, after all, what were they really after? This could be a great rush and who knows where it could lead. In situations like this I always lead with my dick and it was saying 'Oh, hhhell, yes.'

So, we were on. Dara took her pictures and I kept my hard on. It was easy; Ann Marie and Julie were stripping out of their clothes down to their birthday suits. Then they started oiling each other up. They started easy, but it soon became two women clowning around, like a food fight in the school cafeteria. Dara gave me a break while she looked for more props. I found the bathroom and took a leak. What the fuck? In walks Julie just as cool as could be and starts the mirror routine while I'm standing there hosing down the bowl. It's a good thing I wasn't dropping a deuce. I shake the last few drops off and turn to leave, brushing my dick on her thigh. It wasn't planned. It just happened. She turned to me smiling and said, "Don't forget to put the seat down, Georgie," and turned back to the mirror still smiling.