If you have not read "Mikey likes it!" now would be a good time to do so. Otherwise this story makes little sense. For those of you who have read the first part and thought it was terrible and are reading this now: What the hell are you thinking? If you reacted with vitriol, thank you! It is so much better than indifference. If you are among those who felt the need to point out all the risks of promiscuous behavior, again, thank you. But, and it's a BIG BUT, without risky behavior these stories don't have anywhere to go! Some of you questioned my intelligence. Fair enough! I sometimes wonder why I waste my time writing this kind of trashy story. The answer is I enjoy it and I have occasion to meet on line some interesting people. Finally, to the gentleman who doubted that a woman like Roxie could ever change and in fact would fall further into slutdom: people can and do change! Consider; vegans taste a good steak and convert, smokers quit, so do alcoholics and teetotalers start, Reagan was a Democrat, John Newton a slave trader and St. Paul persecuted Christians. Peace!
The cool night air gently flowed through her long hair as Roxanne took one last drag on the one cigarette she would smoke all year. She was standing alone on the balcony of a hotel bar waiting for her husband Michael to make his appearance for their anniversary dinner.
This was supposed to be a special night. Thirty years! Anyone who knew both of them would never have believed it. Roxanne, the wild child, the one girl in her class that every guy knew would put out. Michael, the nerd, the class clown, too shy to even ask a girl out on a date!
How they met is the subject of another story: "Mikey Likes It!" Roxanne thought about those days. How she relished her freedom; her lack of caring about what others thought about her, she thought about all the men, young and old that she sucked off.
She took a sip of her drink; scotch on the rocks. In her youth she drank beer; all the free beer young men would buy her when she sucked their cocks. As the years went by and each of them became successful at their chosen professions their choices broadened and their tastes became more sophisticated.
Roxanne was still a nurse but after their youngest started school she went back and became a registered nurse. Now she was the charge nurse on a maternity floor. Michael did that for her; he always had confidence in her. Without him she would have been satisfied being the practical nurse she became shortly before they married.
Michael was hired by one of the largest accounting firms in Cleveland. He quickly rose within the tax department and was offered a partnership before he was thirty. They were the picture of success; lovely family, beautiful home, nice cars.
Roxanne thought about those wild days. She thought about them more now that the kids were on their own. She thought about cocks and about sucking them. Sometimes she wished she had never done it. Sucking strange dicks is risky; she knew it and did it any way. She loved the power she held over a guy when she had his dick in her mouth. She loved the way a cock felt as it swelled just before a guy came. And she loved the look on their face when she stood up and planted a big wet kiss on their lips. She smiled and sipped her scotch.
"Come here often?"
"That's original."
"Sorry, that's all I got." The man was dressed like every other middle aged business man; suit, tie, oxfords, wedding band.
"I like your shirt; did your wife pick that out for you?"
"As a matter of fact she did."
"I knew it! Most men would never pick pink. Always white or occasionally blue. Why is that?"
"If I had to guess I'd say we just take the easy way; less to think about as we dress in the morning."
Roxanne stared out at the lake. The lights from a freighter glistened and twinkled on the gently rolling water. She sipped her drink.
"My name is Allen, can I buy you another drink?"
"I don't think that's a good idea, Allen. My husband will be joining me soon." Roxanne was saying all the right things but there was something in her voice that was leading Allen on.
"Scotch or bourbon?"
"Does your wife know that you hit on women, Allen?"
"What she doesn't know can't hurt her. Besides what happens in Cleveland stays in Cleveland!"
"I think that's supposed to be Vegas."
Same difference."
"Okay then, scotch. But just one."
"Let's start over. Hi, mind if I join you? My name's Allen."
Roxanne glanced at him as he signaled for the bartender to bring them another drink. "My name is Anne and I'll be meeting my husband soon, just so you know." When "Roxie" retired Michael started calling her Roxanne and after a while it was shortened to Anne.
"Pleased to meet you Anne." The bartender delivered their drinks. "You're meeting your husband; have any special plans?"
"Well, if you must know." Roxanne was letting her frustration show. "This is supposed to be our thirtieth celebration weekend. Last weekend was for family and friends. This week we're treating ourselves to Cirque du Soleil. We'll have dinner tonight and tomorrow we'll visit the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in the afternoon before another dinner and then the show."
"I hear a little agitation."
