She surveyed the crowd of women again with hopeless despair and anxious desperation, while wishing and so wanting to spot someone who interested her. Destined, no doubt, to leave alone and be alone for the rest of her sad, little life, but determined not to be, she suddenly realized that she'll never find her one and only, at least, not here, anyway. Believing more in fate, destiny, and in kismet, than in clubs, blind dates, and online dating sites, this huge gathering of mostly lesbian and bi-sexual women felt too forced and too desperate to work for her. Preferring to meet someone in a random elevator, on the subway, in a supermarket, or at the library, she didn't want any part of being like the collective mass of women here, alone, lonely, and frantic for love, but she was.
Then, as if there was a grizzly bear breathing down her neck, she felt a heavy presence, an unmovable force behind and beside her to her right. The tall, plus sized woman standing next to her barstool invaded her space and rudely leaned into her, as if trying to reach over her to get the attention of the bartender to order a drink. Amanda tried leaning out of her way but, with the three rowed, shoulder to shoulder crowd at the bar, that was just as dense as the crowd on the dance floor, there was no place for her to go. Hoping she'd just get her drink and leave, she was stuck between the bar and this discourteous person that smelled...oh, so good.
What is that fragrance, she wondered? It smells vaguely familiar. Not wanting to call attention to herself, playing it cool, as the diva she imagined herself to be, she hoped that the woman would just order her drink and leave. Knowing just by the imagined weight of her what the woman looked like without even having to turn to see her, she wouldn't be interested in a BBW woman. Acting as rudely disinterested in her as the woman was rudely obnoxious for leaning into her, she didn't even turn her head to acknowledge the woman.
"I noticed you the moment you walked in the club. I knew then that I had to have you," whispered the woman in her ear in the way that she imagined a female Barry White would personally recite a love song to her. "As if you were a timid deer, I could hear the trepidation in your little footsteps descending down the entrance stairs. Better than any decadent desert, sweeter than any ice cream, and wanting to lick you and lap you all up, you smell so sexually delicious. I can only imagine what it must feel like to be with you, to hold you, to touch you, to feel you, and to kiss you."
Transfixed on the barstool, mesmerized and listening to her every word, as if lying in bed and receiving pillow talk from her lover, she was as shocked as she was excited, by all that the woman said. Wishing that someone would approach her, while not expecting that anyone would, she was surprised that she was immediately chosen. Noticed from such a huge crowd of women, as soon as she entered the club, she was excited that someone finally wanted her enough to come up to her and whisper her lustful thoughts in her ear. So glad she didn't leave the club, maybe something good would come from this.
Suddenly giddy with sexual excitement by the sheer thought of getting lucky and being lapped up by her, Amanda imagined the woman whispering in her ear everything she'd like to do to her in her deep whiskey voice, while stripping her naked. Instead of turning to respond in kind, delaying her response by playing it cool and hard to get, not even turning to look at her, not wanting to be surprised, she tried imagining what she'd look like first, before turning to see if she was right. Unfortunately unable to make the physical connection enough to see her in her mind's eye, unable to put her sultry voice with a face, she couldn't envision what she'd look like. All that she could tell was that she was a big woman.
She had a husky, albeit sexy, upscale and, no doubt, educated, upstate New York voice. Reminiscent of the raspy voice her friends have from smoking, she had the type of voice that Amanda gets, when she awakens in the morning, after licking her lover too long the night before and her mouth and tongue gets too dry. Having not had sex in a long while, saving herself for the right woman, so very horny, the mere tickle of the woman's breath in her ear and the warmth of the her body pressed against the back and the side of her made her wish they were both in bed naked. From having been so horny for too long, as if the woman had hit her power on button, the sensation of her warm breath filled her mind with raw lustful emotion. In the way she surprised her by confessing to her that she had to have her, something she's never done before in her protective aloofness and disinterested manner of a supermodel, Amanda suddenly wanted to step out of her box and turn to surprise the woman, with a long, soulful, wet kiss.
With the woman lingering her lips close enough to kiss her, Amanda refrained from returning her lust by turning her head in her direction to share her sexual excitement. Not taking no for an answer, if only by her silence, the woman continued breathing her desire in Amanda's ear.
"Better looking than Faith Hill, you are the most beautiful woman in the room. Only, just like in Sammy Kershaw's song, She Don't Know She's Beautiful, I don't think you realize how beautiful you are," she said pausing, as if waiting for Amanda to say something in return. "A slow seduction, I'd undress you with my teeth."
With her mouth so close to her ear, after being undressed with her teeth, Amanda imagined her mouth being that close to her pussy. Always the submissive one, the one so afraid to show her real emotions for fear of embracing lesbianism, she quivered with the thought of a stranger, a powerful woman taking her, holding her, kissing her, undressing her, licking her, and making love to her, before telling her that she loved her. Always secretly wanting to be used and abused, pressured and forced, maybe even slapped around a little, spanked, and tied to the bed, at least once in her life, she swooned at the thought that someone noticed her, wanted her, and had to have her, in that sexy way. Then, as if she was sitting bareback in a fine, English leather, soft, handmade saddle, as if she was just claimed at auction and tattooed with a hot iron brand, she felt a big, warm hand plastered to her backside.
Had the woman been a man taking such aggressive liberty with her ass, she would have slapped his face, before kneeing him in the nuts and telling him to go fuck himself. It was then, when men so abused her that she was glad that she was a lesbian. Nonetheless, crossing the line, whether man or woman, how dare she grope me, thought Amanda? At first she was shocked by the feel of her hand on her ass. Immediately, she was angry that this woman dare touch her in such a sexual way. Then, feeling the stranger's desire flow through the palm of her hand through to her buttocks, she felt excited.
Because her sexual assaulter was a woman, without even so much as a squirm or a word of protest, and unlike her not to take exception to being so manhandled or, in this case, woman-handled, she allowed the woman to be so familiar with her so soon. Then, when the woman's hand didn't move, just stayed there in place, she didn't feel as violated, as she felt owned. As if the woman's hand was a claim on her buttocks, as if Amanda's ass belonged to her, she felt sexy to be so aggressively desired.
With the curve of her firm, shapely ass in the woman's big palm, somehow the feel of her warm, powerful hand centered her soul, relaxed her being, soothed her loneliness, and made her feel safe from harm. With just the feel of her hand on her ass, with her mouth still so very close to her ear, and with the pressured sense of her shoulder that still leaned into her, she could feel the power of this woman. A force to be reckoned with, suddenly, it was intoxicatingly exhilarating to imagine making love with someone like her, instead of the little, skinny, selfishly self-centered, blonde bitches she's used to bedding, who have personalities as phony as their big tits. Having placed appearance over substance for too long, maybe the reason she hasn't found love is because she's been looking for love with all the wrong women.
It was then that she realized, instead of all the powder puff, fluffy, empty headed blondes she's always been attracted to that she needed someone like this, a real woman, someone who could take charge of her, take care of her, and protect her not only from harm but also from herself. Even though she had never been with one, always wondering what it would be like to be so controlled, suddenly she realized that she was a real sucker for a testosterone filled butch of a female. Something she missed without having a man in her life, tired of being alone, she didn't want to be responsible for making all of her own decisions. Feeling pressured to decide and tired of making all the wrong decisions, she needed someone to help guide her through life.
