“This band is terrific, come dance with me again!”
My wife was breathless from the previous song, as was I. We had been having a blast, two-stepping and fast dancing to whatever they played, and I wasn’t going to stop now. We had discovered just a month before that the country-western bar just around the corner from our new home had the largest and best dance floor we had ever seen. After a couple of weeks we were Regulars, even though we didn’t know many names, just recognized faces and were recognized in return. Turned out to be a really terrific bar, good bands on the weekends, nice folks, even a big patio and tables out back where you could cool off and watch the stars between sets.
“You like the white-trash in the daisy-dukes and the tight top, don’t you,” Annie whispered into my ear as we walked onto the floor.
She knew damn well I did. Small breasts, terrific legs, and a sweet butt. “She’s OK, but she knows it too”, I responded as I took a quick look. “She’s too young and would require too much instruction, don’t you think?”
“And I suppose you are spoiled by having an older woman that knows how to service your needs?” was the quick reply.
That brought a laugh from both of us. After over 25 years together, we knew what the other liked and wore each other out on a regular basis. Married life was never boring. And a night of dancing was a sure set-up to a heated nightcap.
She like to tease me by pointing out women on the dance floor she thought I’d be interested in. When I heard “The guy in the western shirt and the black cowboy hat really has some moves”, I was way ahead of her. The redhead he was in the process of spinning around looked a heck of a lot better and was more to my liking. Long red hair, fair-skinned with lots of freckles, and a nice round ass.
“He’s OK”. I’m not going to bite the whole hook at once.
“Yeah, and you aren’t thinking about whether she has freckles on those milky-white breasts, are you,” came right back at me.
“Hey, if you’re gonna eyeball the cowboys, I can take a look at a few cowgirls. I saw you eyeballing that big stud-muffin sitting behind us at the bar. You were actually making the poor bastard uncomfortable”.
She liked that, and I got the big smile. Annie was really attractive and always turned heads. 5-8, and carried her weight well for close to 50, great legs and an hourglass figure. Good breasts, too. She was classy looking and men liked to take her in, which I liked to watch. I always kidded her that she could pick up men in a heartbeat, and she would laugh it off. But I knew she like the idea that it was true.
After several beers and even more dances, we returned to our table and I turned to head to the restroom. “If you have the cowboy at your table when I return,” passing on the challenge, “I’ll just sit at the bar and watch you do your stuff.”
“So how do I explain you?” she fired back. She assumed I was kidding, but I had a ready response.
“If its someone that has been here already, just tell them I’m an old friend who occasionally meets you here to dance. Use your imagination: tell them I’m fun to dance with, but gay. Believe me, they will be more interested in you, and won’t worry about who I am.” I was getting stiff just getting the grounds rules done and wanted to get on with it! “I’ll just sit at the bar when I come back and watch you do your stuff.”
So we were off. When I returned to the room and found a seat at the bar with a good view of Annie’s table, I checked out the rest of the crowd and then took a good look at her, trying to view her as a stranger might. She looked classy for the place, dressed in a white blouse and denim skirt, short enough to make you look twice, but not enough to look cheap. She caught me looking but ignored me and turned to the table next to her, where two good-looking guys had just sat down. Annie gave them a good look, just long enough to make sure they noticed and then turned her attention to the band.
After a song or two, the band lit into a classic old Waylon Jennings tune, one I knew she liked to dance to. She turned a big smile toward the taller of the two guys at the table next to her, the one with the hat (she was a sucker for hats) and he didn’t miss the cue. He slid off his stool and walked over, spoke into her ear and then led her to the dance floor. She was checking out his butt in those tight jeans all the way there.
Hat-man could dance, he looked good, and from the smile on her face, I knew she was looking to hang on to him for awhile. They danced the next couple of songs, including a slow song where she didn’t make him guess about how big her breasts were. He was having a good time and so was she. When they returned to the table, she was asking him to sit at her table when the other guy tapped her on the shoulder and then led her to the floor for the rest of the set. Turned out she had hooked into a pair of good dancers, which was her number one criteria for a guy. Now she had two.
While the band took a break, she was doing a great job of entertaining both of her new friends. She had unbuttoned her blouse enough to give them a good look at the tops (maybe even middle) of her breasts, which were working hard to come out of the tops of her demi-cup bra. And as she leaned over to show them to one, then the other , she was getting pretty liberal with her hand on the leg of the taller guy, the one with the hat. Not enough that others would notice, but I was paying attention. You could tell by the he was hanging on every word she said, he was taking the hook, and the line and sinker too.
About this time, cowboy No. 2 was feeling a little left out, and, after saying something to his friend and with a nod to Anne, he moved across the room to sit with a group of people he apparently knew. Anne and the Hat carried on as before, with her hand on his leg and his eyes working between paying attention to what she was saying and watching her breasts move inside her blouse.
The band was starting to bang and fiddle with their instruments, and Anne got up and headed toward the restroom, as did her new friend. After a few minutes, she came back, just a few steps behind him. When she came to where I was sitting at the bar, she stopped long enough to say, “Come ask me to dance, we need to talk”. I nodded and she moved to catch up with the Hat.
They sat out the first song and I was right at her elbow as the band started into a two-step. “May I have the next dance with you”, I asked, giving her an opening to play out whatever she had in mind.
“Oh, hi B.J., I didn’t see you here tonight!”, she gave me her best smile and then turning to Hat, “Tom, this is my friend B.J. He and I met here a couple of months ago with some other friends. Do you mind if he dances with me?”
