FOREWORD:
Just a little bit of fun, here. With all the darker stuff I've posted lately, I figured I'd bring my sense of humor out and dust it off. LOL
DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction, as in NOT REAL for the "super-realists" out there.
FAIR WARNING: No characters were harmed during the writing of this tale.
Please enjoy the ride. :)
I.D.
*****
I walked into the bar and spotted the girls from across the room. None of them were looking my way, but I was checking them out just the same.
One, a black lady, REALLY caught my eye. She was dressed for partying and dancing in a little black dress that could be called a jet skirt. Yeah, it stopped right at the cockpit.
Instead of heading over to flirt, I sidled up to the bar and ordered a Guinness instead. As I was watching, she got up and danced with a guy. They danced once and when he asked her to stay on the floor, she politely declined and rejoined her friends.
I noticed the guy's disappointment when he came up and joined his buddy a couple stools down from mine. Their conversation was easy to overhear.
"Struck out, huh?" the guy at the bar asked his buddy.
"She's married," Mr. Disappointed said with a shrug.
"So? When has that ever stopped you before?" his buddy grinned.
"I've been flirting with her all night, and she's been flirting back, but she just told me that she won't cheat on her hubby," Mr. D responded.
"And? So is it my turn now?" Mr. Optimistic asked.
Mr. D laughed. "Good luck with that!"
"I don't need luck, son. Just watch the master and learn a thing or two," Mr. O smirked as he took out a little canister of breath spray and gave himself an "edge".
I was smirking too, and as Mr. O moved over to where the hot black girl was sitting, Mr. D noticed my smirk and the smugness in my expression.
"You think you could do better?" he challenged me.
"I could have her with just a few words," I bragged.
"Yeah, right! Keep dreaming, pal!" he laughed harshly. "If Sam can't get with her, I'll bet you five hundred bucks that you can't! He's a pro."
"You got the five hundred on you?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.
He looked at me for a moment, judging that I was, indeed, serious. "I can get it. Give me a minute. There's an ATM across the street."
With that, he walked out of the bar, so I turned my attention back to the dance floor, where Sam was dancing with the Nubian beauty. I opened my wallet and checked to make sure I had my stake for the wager. Once I confirmed it, I put the wallet back in my pocket and watched some more.
Sam was grinding on her, I guess trying to impress her with the size of his schlong. She would move a foot or two away, and he would follow her to resume the grinding. When the song ended, she thanked him graciously and returned to her seat, where her friends were also rejoining her from their time on the dance floor as well.
Her short hair was in a pixie cut that I really liked, which showed off her long neck to perfection. Her tits, while not overly big, were perfect for her frame. Her booty, on the other hand, was perfection incarnate! Two round globes of goodness, barely held in check by the jet skirt she wore.
As she retook her seat, Mr. O returned to the bar and looked around for his friend.
"He went to the ATM across the street," I piped up.
"Why?" he asked with a confused expression.
"We're making a wager. He said that I couldn't get that girl you've both been dancing with, and said that he would bet me five hundred that I would strike out too if you did," I shrugged nonchalantly.
He chuckled. "Well, I hope Jim gets back soon. Hell, I'll throw my five hundred in there too."
Jim took that opportunity to come back into the bar. He greeted Sam and me, and I nodded back.
"I'm Mark, by the way," I introduced myself, shaking their hands. "Are you guys sure you want to bet with me on this?"
"Hell yeah," Jim said as he showed me the five hundred.
"Why not?" Sam shrugged.
