Emma McDowell was a fiery redheaded twenty one year old. She worked as a waitress at a local diner. Her life was pretty simple. She worked during the day and at night she was usually at a bar or dance club. Emma was an aspiring musician. She loved music. It was her life. She played guitar, bass, drums, and sang as well. At the moment she was in a band, the only girl in the band, and she played guitar and did lead vocals. They were mostly a cover band of classic rock songs. Emma favored playing Blue Oyster Cult songs, they're her favorite band. She could best be described as a wild girl, a pistol, a firecracker.
It was just in her nature. She'd always been that way. Emma was a gorgeous girl. She stood at 5'6" and weight 135 lbs. She had short, fiery red hair and freckles dotted her entire body. She had a slim figure with 36D breasts that she had no problem showing off. Emma loved sex, almost as much as she loved dancing. She was always a bit of a tease. Tact was not something Emma understood. If she wanted something, or someone, she went after it/them. It was that simple. So that night was no exception. She got all dressed up, wearing knee high black leather boots with a two and a half inch heel, a tiny black skirt and a black leather corset with red trim covering the boning of it.
She put some make up on, a little mascara and eye-liner, some lipstick. Emma usually didn't wear that much make up, she didn't need it. She had a natural beauty. Then Emma hopped in her black 1972 Impala and headed for her favorite dance club. As soon as she got in the music and atmosphere hit her. She could feel her nipples harden in her corset and she felt a slight wetness between her knees. Emma never left this place without a man, or a woman. That was another major aspect of Emma. She loved women just as much as men, sometimes more, they were kinkier.
Emma walked out on the dance floor and instantly a crowd of men surrounded her. She looked around and found the most handsome of them. He was tall with light brown hair and hypnotic green eyes. He had this smile, more of smirk really that aroused Emma even more. He was dressed in a tight black t-shirt that had AC/DC on it and a pair of tight blue jeans. Emma pointed too him and he walked up to her. She smiled and pressed her body against him, feeling his hands rest on her hips. He turned her around quickly and pressed his body against her backside. Emma let out a soft moan but smiled and began to move her hips to the music. She began to grind her hips against his body, feeling him harden. Emma turned around slowly and looked up at him, her hands resting on his chest. Nothing had been said yet, but nothing had to be said.
She danced with him, grinding against him, practically fucking him if they both hadn't been dressed, for hours. Sweat covered both their bodies and finally she couldn't take it any longer. She took his hand and led him out of the club. Emma led him to her car and they got in. The ride back to Emma's was silent. She glanced down when she felt his hand on her thigh. Emma smiled at him and traveled up her thigh to find her warm center, her completely shaven, smooth pussy. Emma moaned and spread her legs a little to give him better access. "No panties," he finally said. "Expecting something?" His voice was low, intoxicating. It had a hint of a cowboy-like accent to her that drove her wild.
