At the bar with Jelena. As the title suggests this is chapter 2. If you'd like a little better idea about Jelena perhaps you should read Jelena Meets Jodi where Jelena is introduced.
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Inside the club it was dark, but not so dark that I couldn't easily check out the available pussy! I feel it's a skill and I'm good at it. Any bar is going to have a selection of pussy. And especially, of course, an out-and-out lesbian bar! The trick is to spot the girls that are available for pick-up. There are always unavailable girls. Girls with girl-friends, girls obviously in love, and, heaven forbid, straight girls. And, of course, girls that just plain don't attract you. Or, just maybe, dear, you aren't attractive to them!
There are those that advocate leaving no stone unturned. Their attitude is: come on to enough chicks and, sooner or later, one of them is bound to say 'yes'! As the old saying goes: knock on enough doors and one is bound to open!
But, I say, why waste the time? Oh, sure. Sometimes when I am bored, just for the challenge, I'll come on to a chick I feel isn't really available, just to see. And I admit there have been times I've been wrong. That is, pleasantly surprised when we ended up in the sack. But generally I prefer to scope out the room and pick out the attractive girls I think might be available. Like I say, it's a skill and I'm good at it!
Tonight, I really didn't care much because I can feel Nyomi's hot number heavy in my purse!
I saw some friends, some ex-bedmates who I was certain would be hitting on me before the night was out. Tough. I'd already made up my mind that there would be no return bouts tonight! Either I scooped some new pussy here or I was phoning the delectable Nyomi! Something told me that black cabbie, once you had her in bed, could give a girl a real ride!
After wandering a bit, checking out the action, I went to the bar and took a seat.
The bartender was Darlene, a stacked red-head. I ordered and smiled, watching her trying not to drool over me.
Darlene and I had a week-ender a month or so back. She was pleasant enough and great in the sack. She must have been! I'd brought her home Friday night and kept her over 'til Sunday! I lost track of the number of times she rang my bell! Now, she was always swinging her tits for me and dropping hints she'd like more of my kind of action. I took a sip of my scotch and considered. She was good enough pussy-fun that I was sure we'd do round two someday. But, sorry Darlene, not tonight.
Just then, the bar momentarily got brighter as the door opened and a whole group of women entered. Laughing and talking. Some holding hands.
They all looked good enough to eat (sorry!) but pretty obviously they were a group of couples. As I stated earlier, breaking up a couple is not impossible, if you have the right assets, as I do. The looks. The confidence. But it's not my scene. Just because I don't dig the one-chick scene doesn't mean I look down on those that do. It takes all kinds, right? And I'm not so jaded that, even though I'm not looking for it, I will deny there is such a thing as love in this world. And while never having experienced love, to my knowledge, enough girls rave about it that I wasn't about to sneer at it. I'd had many girls profess their love for me. Although I'm fairly certain they were confusing love with the mind-blowing cums I had given them. Some girls just can't seem to separate the two!
Oh yes. Love. My limited understanding of that emotion goes something like this. You really care about another girl, about her welfare, how she's feeling, you miss her when she's not around. You're not just hooked on how she can make your toe-nails curl when she's down there showing off her pussy-skills!
Question: Can you ever really love any girl who can't make your toe-nails curl?
Trouble is, from what I know about love, it has good things going for it maybe, but I've also seen its major down-sides. It's never happened to me, of course, but I've observed friends fall to pieces when the object of their 'love' didn't return that love and moved on to some new pussy! I've seen some take years to recover. With all the available pussy around, I just never understood it.
Love, when it's not returned, can be worse than no love at all! At least in this girl's opinion. How's that for one-sip-of-scotch-philosophy?
Que sera, sera, right? You can't have all the girls in the world and, really, what would you do with them if you did get them? There simply wouldn't be enough time!
Something about this new table full of chicks kept drawing my attention. Trying hard not to be obvious, I kept glancing over. Something made me take a head-count -- counting tits and dividing by 2 is more fun! - and I realized there was an odd number. That meant they weren't all couples! Unless there was a three-some scene in there somewhere!
Checking further, without obviously staring, I realized at the end of the table was sitting an older woman, much older than the rest. She looked almost regal sitting there quietly, observing the rest and their festivities. It occurred to me that perhaps this table of pussy was a bachlorette party of some sort and this lady was the mother of one of the girls. Something about her kept my attention. I couldn't put my finger on it.
Oh, sure. For an older lady she was great-looking. I tried to judge her age and gave up. 50, for sure, maybe more. But these days with all the reconstructive, cosmetic surgery, titty implants, age-old stuff like hair dye, who could really tell anymore?
She was quiet compared to the rest of the girls but she was drinking, sipping wine, and she did join in on the chatter also. Even when she was giggling with the other girls she had a quiet dignity about her.
Then the DJ started playing some music and the table emptied as the whole group headed for the dance floor, including my mystery lady.
While they danced it was easy to observe her. She was tall, almost 6 feet. Her hair was jet-black although I thought I could spot hints of grey. She had an outstanding bosom, a lovely pair, partially on display due to a low cut bodice on the classy, shimmering evening gown she was wearing. It hugged her bottom tightly, then flared out to a long skirt, well down her legs. I could plainly see she had an delectable ass!
Fuck, Jelena! What are you doing? A bar full of young pussy. A horny bartender with big tits just begging to be asked to go home with you. A hot cabbie's number in your purse that she practically pleaded for you to use and you, knucklehead, keep checking out some over-the-hill babe who's probably just in this bar to be with her lesbian daughter. A babe conservatively 25 years older than any pussy you've ever bedded! A woman, who, if she is indeed the mother of one of the group of chicks she's with, is probably straight!
After giving myself this talking-to, I determinedly turned back to talk to Darlene. She was busy but not too busy to plant her tits right in my face and make sure to shrug her shoulders to some question just to make them bounce a little for me! I gotta admit, she made my mouth water -- just a little! But, as I've told you, tonight I was determined to sample something new! Also, Darlene's determined and obvious persistence on wrangling an invitation back to my bed was getting on my nerves.
Fuck it! I'm going out on the sidewalk, where it's a little quieter and phone Nyomi!
I stood.
"Hey, doll," Darlene called. "You aren't leaving yet, are you? You haven't finished your scotch."
"I'll be back," I called over my shoulder. I couldn't help it. I checked out the dance floor as I walked to the door. Mystery lady was still dancing, looking curiously not-so-out-of-place on a dance floor full of young pussy. And she was looking at me! Her eyes followed me. In fact, I could feel her eyes boring into me! The corners of her pretty, generous mouth curled up slightly in what was the start of a smile.
I couldn't fuckin' believe it! This old lady was checking me out! The hottest girl in the place! As if she had a chance! And why was there a shiver working its way up my spine?
I got outside! Fuck! Was she getting to me? Why? My hands were actually trembling. I could feel my pussy throbbing, maybe even leaking a little! What the fuck! I fumbled in my purse for my phone and Nyomi's number. I thought I needed a cigarette!
Before I could get my phone out or Nyomi's number or my cigarettes, I heard a low, throaty, sexy yet almost musical voice come from behind me. "Excuse me, dear,"
I turned and, of course, it was mystery lady herself.
Up close, here under the street-light, she was stunning!
Not stunning, like I was stunning. You know, deliberately sexy, provocatively dressed, come-to-momma pussy-girls, stunning.