The vibrating buzz on the coffee table jolted me upright out of garbled dreams and back onto the sofa. So much for silent mode. It was Gary again. Again with the cajoling to hit the bar. I thumbed a limp affirmative "k", rubbed at the dried-out contacts in my eyes, and steeled myself for the considerable effort of taking a shower, getting dressed, and actually putting on shoes.
I was semi-hard in the shower. No particular reason, just the invigorating soapy water and the chronic horniness. I gave it a few lackluster strokes. Meh. It's been over 3 weeks since she left and I'm getting so very tired of jacking off.
Positive Mind floated an idea across my consciousness: "Maybe you'll get lucky at the bar...?"
"Yah , right." Cynical Mind promptly responded, shutting me down. Always the realist, Cynical Mind, with that smug, superior tone.
I shaved, searched for my lucky blue boxer briefs (yet another completely arbitrary mind-fuck), pulled on my favorite jeans and button down shirt, and texted Gary that I'm on my way. It wasn't a far drive, but I stopped for cigarettes, gum, and condoms.
Now I have to be honest here; I don't really smoke. Well, that is, I don't smoke unless I'm going to a bar when I'm single. I'm sure you know why, but I'll explain it to those who haven't been on the front lines in a while. Here's the thing: You can't have intimate conversations in crowded bars. You can only give knowing glances, grins and smiles and loud barking offers to buy drinks, desperate bellowing of "I
LOVE
THOSE BOOTS!" and other inanities.
And so here's my problem: I don't get laid if I can't talk.
And my solution: I take smoke breaks outside the bar.
I could expand on this; in fact I did go into quite a bit of detail on it, but I deleted it. I'm sure the gentle, literate reader can figure out why having the perfect excuse for a one-on-one conversation with a (drunk) lady can get you laid. Let's just say I thank the Lord for smoking laws.
So, with my cigarettes, my gum and my gumption, I walked in to greet my dear, slightly inebriated Gary. I immediately heard his voice rise from the din,
"Haayy it's Daaaan! So you finalleee maaade it ha ha!"
Ugh, here we go. I wasn't prepared for this level of boister. But I put on my happy face, puffed out my chest and powered-through toward the end of the bar.
While Gary and I caught up and bantered, I slowly took in the room. The spot was quite crowded for this early. We shared a shot and again I scanned the room, automatically refocusing for any Possibles.
Nothing much hopeful.
A few cuties who were obviously taken, others that just weren't my type. I stared hungrily at the taken cuties, simultaneously telling myself to please-stop-acting-so-creepy.
More meaningless banter and a pee break. I'm so horny that my cock is semi-hard when I pull it out to piss. I guffaw in frustration. Coming out of the toilet, I spot a new item at the bar. A blonde, skimpy tank top and a short red skirt.. very hot. Bare legs.. and damn, those boots! Wait, is she with that guy? Nope, he's a passing ship. Okay, now's the time to saunter over all casual-like.. annnd.. now Gary's chatting her up haha.. Great.
I hang back, watch, and listen.
She was a flirty one alright. Clearly enjoying the attention, yet entirely un-self-conscious in her manner. Usually an outfit like that screams "desperate for a man", or simply an "attention-whore", but she didn't exhibit the obvious insecurities. Rather, it seemed that she simply wanted to feel sexy tonight. Her hair was straight and shoulder-length, cute smile, and mysterious, deep-set brown eyes. A wise man would know not make assumptions as to what goes on behind eyes such as those. She was fairly petite, well-proportioned.. and her perky "b" cup tits looked simply awesome in that top. I glanced down at her tanned, athletic legs under the bar, she was favoring one hip on the seat, knees pressed together, one boot-heel playfully hooked into the bottom ring of the stool, the other ankle tucked behind it. The position was modest, but in my line of sight, it caused her short skirt to rise above her thigh in a tantalizing display of naked flesh.
I moved in closer as I watched them converse, I found her unpretentious, confident manner endearing, and incredibly attractive. I couldn't stop gazing at her mouth as she talked, and her neck and.. her nipples were saying hello to me. I even heard my name! Suddenly aware that Gary had stopped talking, I glanced up from her tits to be confronted by their silent glares. Oops, it seems Gary was attempting to introduce me. I blushed at her scornful smile, regained my composure, and scooted closer.
"This is Jenny!" Gary yelled in my ear.
She held out a limp hand and I grasped it tenderly. Her finger-tips lightly brushed across my palm, following up along my fingers before withdrawing. I stared into her eyes as the lingering sensation reached my groin . We exchanged pleasantries and meaningless phrases. Gary withdrew, giving me the opportunity to close the space between us. Good guy, that Gary. I ventured some cynical comment regarding human social behavior. She smiled out of context. She seemed amused by me, for reasons not obvious to myself. I felt studied. Paranoia crept in: She can read me like a book; she knew I wasn't much of a social drinker, I wasn't here to meet friends or make friends; I was simply horny and on the prowl.
Clever Girl.
So concerned was I that I would scare her away with my carnivorous countenance, that I offered to buy her a drink. She guffawed and showed me her nearly-full glass. I parried and offered to buy the next one.
"Okay... but I feel it's only fair to tell you that I'm married." She held out her hand to display the evidence.
"That's sweet that you'd be so concerned for my investment," I replied sarcastically.
"Well, I figure there's only one reason you want to buy me a drink."
"And what reason do you think figure that is?"
"I don't know, that you enjoy my company?" She replied tamely.
"I guess you're right, cuz I enjoy Gary's company, and I buy him drinks, and we even live together... "
She playfully slapped my shoulder, "You know what I mean."
"Well, maybe you shouldn't be accepting drinks from strangers if you're married" I muttered.
"Well, maybe my husband doesn't mind," She quickly retorted..
"Doesn't mind what?" I was fishing.
She stared at me.
"Lots of ...things..." She expressed each word with a wet tongue, almost lisping. My cock twitched.
I ordered her a drink, and turned to find her texting intently .
"Your husband, I presume?" I pried.
"Uh-huh," She nodded without looking up.
"Anything interesting?"
She flicked a glance at me, "I told him that I was flirting with a cute guy."
"I'm flattered," I replied without irony, "So.. uh, why are you trying to make him jealous?"
She raised her head and looked me in the eye. "It turns him on." She stated flatly.
"REALLY?" I sputtered, "Wow, that's interesting.. so, uhh.. does it turn you on to make him jealous?"
"Yup," She replied, "I mean, me doing the things that make him jealous turns me on."
"Like flirting?"
