We made our way over to the Brickyard CafΓ©. A large 3 story bar in Hartford Connecticut. The first floor was like a lounge area, the second floor had a long bar that runs the length of the building, and the third floor is a sports bar with lots of TV's and small tables and couches.
It was now around 9:30 P.M. and the bar was beginning to get crowded.
"Zach you know I'm only eighteen, right? I don't have a fake I.D. or anything." I said.
"I have a good fake I.D." he said. "They give you a different colored arm band if you are under 21. Don't worry baby I'll feed you drinks." He said looking at me and smiling. He had his hand on my ass and I had my hand in his back pocket as we walked.
With my 3-1/2 inch heeled black pumps I was only a half inch or so shorter than Zach. He's 6'1" with curly brown hair. He has really broad, muscular shoulders. I like feeling them. I like holding on to them almost as much as like holding on to his ass. He has a perfect ass for a guy. He's a hockey player for the Beavers hockey team for the college he goes to in Maine, and he has the biggest hunk of man meat between his legs I have ever seen in real life before.
We could see a line of people waiting to get in. You could hear the pounding beat of Techno dance music pulsing out of the building. I could feel the vibrations out on the street.
"It must be really loud in there." I said
"Yeah. Do you like this kind of music?"
"I'm not crazy about Techno, but I love to dance to it." "I bet you do." He said squeezing my ass as we got into line. I moved a hand onto his shoulder as we got into line. I massaged the muscle that went to his neck. It was big and strong and his shoulders felt so solid and strong they made me feel safe. There were two big bouncers at the door. Each of them had a headset on and they were checking every ones I.D.s. I had my Giuseppe Zanotti handbag over my shoulder. It was a crescent shaped handbag made of corduroy with a satin flap and trimmed with metallic leather with an adjustable removable shoulder strap. I had to get my prison photo drivers license out. I look like shit in my driver's license photo. The guys at the door gave me a hard look up and down. I have long legs and my Max Azria Little Black Halter Dress clung tight to my breasts. I have large extended nipples, bullet tipped, eraser tipped whatever you want to call them they stood out against the thin material of my halter top.
"She's eighteen." The big bouncer said to the guy with two different stamps in his hand. He gave me back my license while the other guy grabbed my hand and stamped the back with the picture of a dancing bear in red ink.
"Have fun." He said and smiled at me.
Zach had a picture of a flying eagle on the back of his hand. We went into the club to one of those old style movie theatre windows where he paid for us to get in and they gave us our wrist bands. It was $10 for him and a dollar for ladies before 10 P.M. They put a purple wrist band on his arm and a red one on me. They were those hospital ones, clear plastic with a colored strip of paper inside them. Once you put them on you can't take them off except with scissors.
We went into the lounge area. There were a lot of little tables in there and a bunch of diner style booths along the walls covered in red velvet. There was a spiral staircase on the left side of the bar leading upstairs to the dance floor. I could feel the music from the floor above us pulsing down through me. The bass was so heavy I could feel it in my pussy.
The bar used to be some kind of factory or apartment building or something. It was brick and not real wide, but it was really long. It was like 70 feet wide and 200 feet long. It must have extended back the width of an entire city block. Zach went and got two Long Island Iced teas. We sat in one of the empty booths about halfway into the long building. We sat across from one another.
"Have I told you how hot you look?" He asked.
"No you haven't. How hot am I?"
"You are so hot I would crawl through a mile of broken glass, on my hands and knees, just to worship at your feet."
"Why do you like my feet?"
"You have beautiful feet. Your legs are awesome and your ass is like an apple. In fact I would like to eat it right now."
"You would eat my ass like an apple?"
"Yes."
"I don't even know what that means." I said and I didn't. What kind of shit was this? Eat my ass like an apple. "Show me." I said.
"Come over here." He said as he got out of his seat and stood up. I got up and moved over to his side of the booth. I slid into the booth against the wall. He sat next to me. He turned to me. "Get on your hands and knees with your head towards the wall."