My name is Rob. I'm 6'2", 190 lbs, athletic build with shoulder length, dark blonde hair. Women say I'm a cute guy, take that for whatever it's worth. This story happened when I was in my early twenties. It's more of a romance, rather than a straight, let's get to the fucking.
I played for U. of Wisconsin on the soccer team my freshman year. Then, when the coach got fired, and they hired a jackass, I transferred to a smaller school. I started to hate soccer, school, everything. So I dropped out after my sophmore year to take a break.
I tried to move back home temporarily, but got caught growing weed and got kicked out of the house to be an example for my younger brother. Luckily, I had a friend, Jason, who wanted a room mate to split the cost of his apartment in Chicago, so I moved my stuff in with him, and started to look for a job.
The only thing I could get was restaurant work, which I did for a year. Meanwhile, I was going to the gym to work off my depression every day, and since I had a lot of food available, I started to put on some muscular weight. All this time, I kept playing my guitar. Trying to learn from Hendrix, Vaughn, Buddy Guy, Albert King, and so on. A guy I knew from the gym I worked out at saw me wearing a Fender t-shirt and asked if I was interested in changing jobs. He worked at a blues bar/restaurant that needed somebody to cook, tend bar,bar back, serve as a doorman,you name it. They had live music so I took the job without even asking what the pay was.
The first time I went was at a meeting of all the employees, talking about schedules, moral, what needs to be done, etc. That's the first time I saw Shannon. She was unbelievably gorgeous. Straight black hair past her shoulders, and the softest looking skin imaginable. With biracial parents, her complexion was a light milk chocolate and my God I couldn't stop staring. She must have caught me three or four times, thinking I was either a stalker, or a racist. I would have worked for free to be around her.
Even when the bar got smokey after a long night I could still smell her sweet, flowery perfume. She always wore short tight skirts, that formed around her perfect legs and thin hips. I'm sure she increased her tips from waitressing, and bartending fourfold. Her shapely breasts were of medium size, but looked perfect for her 5'8" frame. She had to work out or run, or something.
A couple weeks went by before we started talking to one another. I was shy and to be truthful, intimidated. I didn't want to come across as a jerk or know it all. I just wanted to mind my own business. (And quietly stare at that tight ass, my God) Slowly over a couple of months we became friends, and even got to where we were innocently flirting while on the job.
One night, while we cleaned up, she asked me if I would go to a play a few nights from then because none of her friends wanted to go, or couldn't go, I can't remember. She was into the artsy stuff and I wanted to seem worldly so I said sure in my most nonchalante, do this all the time, way. She said she would pick me up and drive.
I have to be honest, before she arrived, I gave myself release, because I didn't want to sport wood all evening and be totally distracted. I shaved, showered, then debated whether I should eat or not. Shannon said she'd pick me up at 8:00, and the play started at 8:30, so I figured she didn't want to have dinner. And I also sadly figured she wasn't thinking of this as a date either. So at 7:30, 7:35, I decided to microwave some hot dogs. I was hungry, but could barely put a bite down. Someone knocked on my door, which I figured must be my roomate's girlfriend, because it was about twenty minutes early. I was wrong.
Opening the door, I saw Shannon looking as hot as ever. But this time she was wearing black pants and a jacket over a sweater. It completely blanked my mind that this wasn't a date and I said, "Wow. God, you look great."
She laughed and said thanks, thinking I over stated things,I'm sure. "Are you eating?" she accused me, walking to the kitchen to look for evidence.
"Yeah," I replied. "You never said anything about dinner so I just thought I was going to escort you to this play."
"Rob, the play is only twenty minutes." She had fun with this.
"What? What the hell kind of a play is that? Are you serious?" I asked.
She shook her head. "It's kind of a..., I don't know how to explain it." Shannon said.
"Well, what's it about?" I asked further.
"I don't know. It could be about Nazi Germany, it could be about sex. No one knows before it starts, that's what makes it fun. It changes every week."
I laughed wondering what I was getting myself in to. But heck, fifteen, twenty minutes of torture to be with a beautiful girl is nothing. "Do you want to go out after?" I skillfully worded.
"Yeah," she said, "if you're not too full of hot dogs."
I wrapped the plate with Siran Wrap, and poured out my coke. "Do you want something to drink?" I asked.
"No thanks," Shannon said from the living room. She had begun to look around. "Do you play the guitar, or your roommate?" I walked in the room to see her unskillfully run her fingers across the electic guitar's strings while it stood it it's stand.
"I do," I said.