We had talked about doing this for quite some time. The more I thought about it the interested I became. Wifey and I decided to head out on the town as if we didn’t know each other.
With a pre set game plan in mind I suggested heading to a city about an hour from our hometown. Our departure time was to be 9:00 that evening. The crumbsnatchers were safely deposited at grandmas.
I made a few suggestions as to how she should present herself this evening. Black spagetti strap sundress, black thong, no bra. I could tell by her nervousness that she was excited about our evening. She nervously kept asking about how her hair and make up looked.
At about 8:55 the door bell rang. I was still (purposely) in the shower. I heard her skip down the stairs and open the door. About thirty seconds later I heard her coming back up the stairs giggling. Our car and driver had arrived.
I quickly hopped out of the shower and got dressed. She was busily checking out the limo. Playing with the stereo and goofing around with the moon roof. When I came out the front door I saw her standing with her head and shoulders out of the sunroof. Her smile was a mile wide.
I briefed the driver and we were off. The ride was pleasant enough, lots of nervous chatter and cuddling.
The trip to our destination was over in no time. As we came to a stop I leaned over and put my arms around her, lightly kissing her lips.
“Here’s the deal” I said
“This club has four floors, each with a different theme. The forth floor is all classic rock. I will be back at 11:30 looking for you there”
“I thought you would at least come in with me”
“Nah, I figure I might cramp you style a bit too much. Go on in, you will be fine. You probably won’t buy yourself a drink all night".
She stepped out with me right behind her. She had her back to the car as I leaned into her. I grasped both her hands behind her back and kissed her deeply once again. Her nerves were obvious.
“Go ahead, have fun. I will be back in a little while.”
I stood there as she waited in line to get into the club. After she had climbed the stairs she looked back and gave a little wave.
I told the driver to take me to a local peeler joint. I planned on having a couple of beers while I thought about my gameplan.
The adventure had just begun...
*Author Change (Wifey writes the next section)
As I stepped in the door, several things struck me at once. Smoke, lights, noise, young bodies everywhere.
"What the bloody heck am I doing here?" I thought to myself. "Twenty somethings everywhere, flat bellies, tatts, perk boobies, geez, I am outta here!"
As I turn to leave, hoping to flag down hub and confess I chickened out, I see a man checking me out.
He is leaning against the bar, looking my way. Not leering, just gazing. He looked to be about 30. Button down shirt instead of a tee shirt. Dockers instead of jeans or shorts.
Hmm. This might not be so bad after all. I offer him a smile, and see him smile in return. My confidence re-emerges.
I saunter over to the bar, a few people down from Mr. Mature. The bartender asks what I would like. I pause. A beer? A glass of wine? A Cosmopolitan? I decide on vodka with cranberry. Not too complicated, but not as burp inducing as beer. And I am a wine snob, it is not likely I will like what their selection is.
As I receive change for the $20 I offered in payment, I wryly remark to myself that hub was not correct when he told me I wouldn't pay for a drink all night.
I take my drink, and casually turn in the direction of Mr. Mature. Gone. *sigh*
I watch the dancers on the first floor. Some sort of techno beat bumps out, the bass so deep I feel it as I try to breathe in a contrary rhythm. "Time to wander upstairs" I tell myself.
Ah, Top 40. A little more recognizable. Still not my taste, but an improvement. I lean against a wall and watch. Perfect little girls with perfect little bodies bump and grind with frat boys. The boys are eager, think they are cool, and are practically drooling over the little hotties. I lean against a wall, watching the hot people. A wry smile on my lips. Well, this is kinda fun. I like to people watch. How does she move that way, I would sprain…......HOOOO BABY!!!! WHO IS THAT?"
6 foot 3, dark brown hair, dark eyes, dark eyebrows. 35ish. Maybe a little over weight, but he has that sense of confidence that some guys have. Not cockiness, or arrogance. Just an ease with themselves that shows through in how they hold themselves, how they look around a room. He looks around at the younger crowd, shakes his head slightly, then looks my way.
Pauses.
Locks his eyes on mine.
Feeling like the star in a sitcom featuring a doofy 30 something female, I go to take a sip of my drink. And slop some of it down my chest.
As I stare down at my damp chest in embarrassment, wondering what to do, he comes over to me. And hands me the tiny, useless little paper napkin that he grabbed off the bar.
"Um" he says "Here, I'm sorry, it's all I have, would you like me to get some more?"
As I blot at the dampness in my dress, I am too embarrassed to look up at his face. I spend as much time patting at the wet material as I can as he hovers nearby. I finally look up at him.
"I am so embarrassed, I can't even begin to say." In the back of my mind, I realize he looks a lot like Big from Sex and the City. Hot hot hot.
A smile on his lips. I relax. He isn't making fun of me.
"Thanks. This will do." I notice his scent. A brief scent of a cologne. I look at his shoulders. They are marvelously wide. His voice is deep, just a slight southern accent.
"Can I buy you another drink?"
"No, I think that is plenty, obviously. Would you like to dance?"
I can't believe I just asked a man to dance. A man I was attracted to. A man I was not married to.
He replies sure.
Off to the dance floor we go.
Mr. Big is NOT a dancer. Jerky, uncoordinated moves. He looks uncomfortable. He looks like he would rather be anywhere other than here.
"How about we go upstairs? I think that is a little more my speed" With a look of relief, he agrees.
Ah, classic rock. Here we go. Guns N Roses wail about Sweet Child of Mine. Mr. Mature there, chatting up a woman at the bar. People a little closer to my generation wander around. Now Billie Jean is not my girl. Unconsciously, I lip sync along with Michael Jackson. Another drink appears next to my hand. I look at Mr. Big.
"My name is CW, what's yours?"
"Scott."
The vodka has spread through my body. I am warm. Relaxed, getting open minded about Scott. He is hot. Getting hotter by the sip. Hub crosses my mind. Where is he, what is he doing? Is he here, watching? I gaze around the club, wondering if he is secreted into a dark corner, watching me. I see no sign of him. Scott notices my gaze, asks if I am looking for someone in particular. I hesitate, then notice a telltale sign on his hand. A tan line on the bare ring finger. "No. Just checking out the place."
Is he playing the same game, I wonder.
David Bowie sings about Major Tom.
I drink the last swallow of my drink. Bruce Springsteen, Dancing in the dark. I grab Scott's hand. Out to the floor we go. I do my best Courtney Cox imitation; arms swinging, having a great time. Scott is more comfortable dancing to the stuff he danced to as a 17 year old.
The Hooters start singing. She was bee bop baby on a Saturday night. He grabs my hips as we start dancing in rhythm. And we danced. I throw my arms around his neck and pull closer to him. His hands are on my waist. We sway in tandem. His hands rub around my hips, slightly lower, to the top of the roundness of my ass. I push closer. I am getting hot. More than hot. His hands move up my back. I lean into his hands slightly, relishing the feel of his strong hands spread on my back.
I reach up and run my fingers through the hair on the back of his neck, I look in his eyes. I see desire. Scott is buzzed, relaxed, but not the least bit drunk. He knows exactly what is going on. Smiling slightly, he pulls me close again. I run my hands down his arms. Big arms, nicely defined without being over developed.
Cars are now playing, Ric Ocasek singing you're all I've got tonight. Scott's hands slide lower. I sway my hips even more. Slow, sensuous moves, back and forth. I lean my chest closer to his, pressing my breasts into him. His hands reach the hem of my skirt. As his index finger traces little circles on my bare skin, I feel the trace of his finger's path as a trail of heat. His hand pushes slightly higher. Pushing my hem up a bit. Scott's hand moves around to the back. His fingers trace the skin at the very bottom of my curved ass cheek By this time, I am oblivious to anybody that might be watching. I don't want his light touch to stop. I bury my nose in his shoulder; lift my head to his neck, and breathe deeply. I dart my tongue out, touch the skin of his neck. I can tell he feels it, his fingers press a little harder as they trace the curve of my ass, under my skirt. I push my face into his neck. My hands are balled into fists, gripping handfuls of his shirt. I am trying so hard to control myself, when all I want to do is rip his shirt off and run my tongue over his chest, his shoulders, his neck, up to his ear.
Scott pulls away gently. "I need a break, how about you?" Numbly, I nod and follow him to the bar. More vodka and cranberry for me, more beer for him. Pulling on my hand, he takes me to the end of the bar away from the dance floor. We lean on the bar, facing one another.
"I like the way you dance." I tell him. He smiles. "I especially like the way YOU dance" he replies.
AC/DC blares on. One of my all time favorite songs. She was a fast machine She kept her motor clean She was the best damn woman I had ever seen She had the sightless eyes Telling me no lies Knockin' me out with those American thighs
At this line, I am swaying, looking Scott right in the eyes, pulling my skirt up, so he can see THESE American thighs. He looks on, rapt, as I move to the music. He reaches out and puts his arm around my waist. Pulls me close. Pauses briefly as he looks at my face, then kisses me. Lightly at first, then with more passion. His arm pulls me in tight against his chest. I put one arm around his broad shoulders, and wrap the other around his waist. I pull his shirt tail out and run my fingers lightly across his lower back. His other hand moves down to my ass, pauses, squeezes. I am so wet that I feel it soaking through my panties as he gives my ass another squeeze. I give up any pretense of decorum and lean into him, kissing him as if my life depends on it. I don't hear the background music, I don't feel the crowd of people around us, I don't smell the cigarette smoke that permeates the air.
I finally pull away. "I need to go find the ladies room. Will you still be here when I get back?"
He assures me I will see him again, and I feel his eyes on my ass as I walk away from him.
When I return from a long sojourn in the ladies room spent gathering my wits, I see him sitting in one of the low, comfy couches scattered around the bar area. I sit next to him, and lean comfortably back into his encircling arm. Scott leans forward and kisses me again. I throw one leg over his lap, and twist into a more comfortable position. He reaches one arm down, and scoops me onto his lap. My skirt rides up, my nearly bare ass is on his lap. As he kisses me, his hand wanders up my thigh, down again.
I am nearly delirious. I have no idea what to do next. I can't actually have sex with this guy, but I am so hot I want to explode.
Scott pulls away, gently kissing my mouth, my chin, then pulling back and looking at me. As my eyes clear, allowing me to focus, I see hub sitting on a bar stool, watching. I give a guilty start, and make a move to get up. Hub motions me it is ok, and to stay put.
