Saturday Night Fever 2

The sign on Route 37 read, "Smooth Steve Shaw 2Nite!" as I turned into the parking lot. I was looking for a hot shower and clean sheets, so I barely noticed. I was beat, having driven ten straight hours from Georgia, and didn't want to push it, so I grabbed some Mickey D's, plopped on the bed, and watched the fourth quarter of some NCAA game.

Darkness pressed against the window when I realized the game was over. I had crashed for five hours, and woke in a start, not sure where I was. Oh, yeah, New Jersey on a Saturday night.

I knew I couldn't get back to sleep now, so I showered and figured I'd hit the lounge for a few Scotches, then sleep until sunrise.

As soon as I walked in, I remembered about Smooth Steve, because the place was packed. I was a captive audience, unless I wanted to go searching for another joint, so I moved through the crowd, and found the bar reasonably empty, since most folks were dancing to Steve's crazy beat!

Now, when I say Steve was old, don't say how old, because I'm not an archaeologist. He was tall, rather handsome in his day, with this patch of raccoon perched atop his head that seemed to still be alive, shifting when he turned his head. His fingers moved slowly across the keyboard, no matter the song. You want a fast song? He would just turn up the beat on the electronic drummer, but he'd stay at his pace.

The crowd reflects the performer, they say, and it held true this evening. There had to be 60 of them, none under 60 in age. most well-beyond. The men all had their Right Guard or Old Spice on, reeking of it. Many had toupees, some like Steve's, some not as good. Glasses thick enough for NASA to track the shuttle. Pants hung high, white socks or support hose. All competing for the women.

The women all dressed like the Golden Girls, with Rose, Blanche, Sophia and Dorothy. Colorful, aging, giggling like school girls if a guy asked to dance.

I was actually enjoying this, since I loved people-watching and imagining what their conversations were. Half-way through my second Scotch, Old Steve took a break. The bartender, Joe, about 40, said, "Here comes the stampede," and they did.

All those little tables around the dance floor streamed into the bar area to get refills, apparently not wanting to miss a beat from Steve's keyboard set. For ten minutes, they waved their bills, ordering this and that, occasionally you could see a hook-up working where a guy would but for a girl, or just as often, a girl for a guy.

Steve returned and a sense of normalcy took over, although the bar stools remained mostly full. Joe refilled me and I heard, "Excuse me, is this stool taken?"

I half-turned to see a woman, bright red hair piled high on her head, big green eyes, surrounded by long lashes, dark eye-shadow and red lips. "No, no one's sitting."

She smiled, "Well, now there is!" and she slid into the stool. "Joe, I'll have the usual."

"Hi Dolly, Kenny's been looking for you. He's got a new shirt on!"

"Ugh! He needs a new act, honey! A shirt ain't enough! Tell him I died."

He poured her a Vodka Martini expertly, as he said, "He's not killing himself on my watch!"

Dolly looked over at me and smiled. "Men! You can't live with them, and you can't live with them!" She had a Kelly green blouse, satin I think, button-down, top 2 open, the others holding firm, keeping her chest enclosed. Her eyes twinkled when she saw me admiring her.

She sipped her Martini. "So, what's your story?"

"Story?"

"Yeah, are you visiting your Mom? Just passing through? You're obviously new here."

"Oh, passing through I guess."

"Traveling alone?"

"Yes, going home to Vermont. Visited family in Georgia."

Joe said, "Incoming," out of the corner of his mouth, and big man stepped into the lounge. Dolly looked up, and groaned. To me, she said, "Just play along, okay?"

Before I could respond, he spotted Dolly and moved across the room. "Oh, Ken, how nice it is to see you, is that a new shirt?"

He seemed quite pleased that she noticed. "Hi, Dolly! You like it, really? I got it at Walmart!" He was my height, six foot, but heavier, about 250 to my 180. About 60 or so, bug hands, probably a laborer of some kind. He looked at me, quizzically.

Dolly said, "It looks real nice on you, good fit! Ken, this is my nephew, John, he came down to visit from New York, isn't that nice of him?"

He relaxed: a nephew he could deal with, competition was another story. He held out his big hand and forced a smile. "Hey, John, your aunt's a real lady, she talks about you all the time, really!"

He was trying way too hard. "Hi, Ken, nice to meet you." My hand tried to be as firm as his, but it was like shaking hands with Yogi Berra, with his mitt on.

Ken asked to speak to Dolly so they stepped away, and Joe said, "The poor guy's smitten, like most guys in here. In this town, if you get a pension check and can still drive at night, you've got your choice of women, but guys who fall for Dolly never seem to recover."

"Really?" I asked.

"Hey, she may be older, but she's got more life than the rest of these hags tied together. She's 20 years older than me, and I'd kill for one night!"

She definitely seemed more alive, confident, like she could read your thoughts. And if she was 60, she was in some shape! As she walked away, I saw high heels, which made her about 5'5. Her chest was full, probably 36D or DD. Crow's feet around the eyes, always made me think of someone who was happy all the time. High cheek bones. The skirt was black, and could be leather or an imitation.

"And, what's his story?" I asked.

"Just moved in with his brother, pretty new to the place, and when he met Dolly, she was just being nice to him, but now, he's asking for dates, dinners, she keeps trying to let him down easy, but he's a bit dense."

After a few minutes, she returned, and slid back into her stool next to me, as Smooth Steve rocked on. "Sorry, and thanks for playing along. He's harmless, but..."

"He's a big man, and he clearly doesn't want any competition for your affections. And from what I can see, he's part of a long line of guys in here."

She wrinkled her brow. "I don't follow you."

I nodded to the crowd. "They're standing there like puppies, all panting and wagging. If I left, they would swarm like locust."

She shivered. "Please don't leave, then!" she smiled. "You picked all that up in so little time?"

I knew I was right, now, but Joe's remarks were the key, and now I looked observant. "I like to watch people."

"Joe, give me another, and buy my nephew here one also, for playing along."

"That's not necessary."

"Please, I want to. Your aunt insists."

"Well then, Auntie, what's the sleeping arrangements for tonight?"

Her eyes sparkled! "Oh, no you didn't! You fresh thing you! Hitting on your poor old aunt! I may have to tell your mother!"

"Believe me, I don't have any aunts like you! Or I would be visiting... a lot!"

"Now you have me blushing. Very flattering, thanks. I haven't gotten many comments like that from men your age, in a long time."

"I don't see why not. I feel bad for Ken. He sees you every week, and no resolution."

"While you?"

"You can only reject me once, then I'm gone." I smiled.

She slowly sipped. "Who said I'd reject you?"

"Hmmm, all this because I played your nephew for a few minutes?"

"John, or whatever your name is, we don't get many newcomers, and when we do, they are very rarely your age and alone. I come here because I live 2 miles away. This is my big Saturday night, and you have just made it a lot more interesting. I noticed you when I walked in, and thought you were different, in a good way."

She shifted in her stool to face me, and put her hand on my knee. "I'm clearly attracted to you. Now, the question is, are you attracted to me?"

I smiled. "I'm in room 219."

She smiled and looked me over. "I have to keep appearances, if you know what I mean. I'll give you a five minute start, so people don't talk, even though the women will be so jealous! Two-nineteen, and don't fall asleep!"

I finished mine, took the next one with me, and said bye to Joe and Dolly. At the room, I cleaned up the McDonald's wrappers and smoothed the bed, and I heard a slight tap.

Through the peephole, I saw her and opened it. She slid in past me, graceful, with two shaker glasses, a Martini and a Scotch. She held them up proudly. "Joe asked if I was coming here. He doesn't usually pry, so I said yes. He gave me these and said to tell you, his compliments. You made quite an impression, on both of us, apparently!"

I put them on the table, refilled both our glasses. "I'm really starting to like this place."

She sipped, our eyes deep into each other's, searching. "So, what's your real name?"

"Harry."

"Hello, Harry, and thank you for coming in tonight."

"Thanks for having me." I placed my glass down and took hers. "You have the most awesome green eyes."

"Hmmm," she stepped closer, "and I always loved a man with a beard. Like Grizzly Adams."

"Grrr," I growled and she lifted her head and we kissed. It felt funny, this woman 30 years older than me, but she was so sexy, so full of life, not at all like someone waiting to die. She was as excited as I was, and we could feel the electricity. We kissed again, and her body moved against me. My hands wrapped around her, and one slid up the side, under her arm, and I felt the fleshy side of her breast, and my cock grew against her.

She purred when I felt her tit, squeezing it, feeling the weight of it, and her tongue was in my mouth, coating my lips, my teeth, and she ground her pelvis into me.

I began opening her blouse, one button at a time, as we kissed and stared at each other, and she began to undo my shirt too. We both slid them off together, and she had a black bra, with white flesh pouring over the tops. Her hands were on my chest, finding and toying with my nipples as I reached around and unhooked her bra.

MY cock throbbed as I tweaked her nipples, though the tits sagged, the nips were quite sensitive and she moaned and kissed me forcefully.

I felt her hand stroking my bulge as we kissed and touched and I got her skirt unzipped and down. She wore black hose, and she wriggled her ass as I leaned over to remove them, and my face was directly in front of her snatch, and I could smell her aroma through her cologne. Since I was down there already, I kissed around her patch of dark hair, lingering by the thighs, which I licked.

She shivered and held me head. "I have to sit!" And she did, on the bed, and she laid back as I tugged at her panties, removing them ,and kissing again. If she thought beards were soft on her face, wait until she felt it down there! So many girls told me they loved it!

I kissed up her thighs, making sure to work on the inner thighs, and she was moaning when my tongue found her swollen clit. It became a groan as I sucked and tugged at it, and I felt her body shudder a few times, before I stood over her and undid my jeans.

She laid there watching as I lowered my boxers too, and my six incher bobbed over her, and she parted her legs.

I climbed up and lowered myself into her. She took every inch in, and it felt so warm. We were kissing, whispering, touching, enjoying every move. She bit me, said my beard was sticky, and it was. We began fucking at a regular pace and we stopped the talk.

She was squiggling around beneath me, moving like a teenager. She was clenching my ass, pulling me harder into her, and her big green eyes were bigger with delight.

In a voice that was too deep for any woman, she growled, "Fuck me, fuck me harder, honey, fuck me harder!"

And I did, humping faster and harder, feeling her pussy clench around my shaft as I reached the brink. I held as long as I could, to the point that she was screaming, "FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME!!!"

I lunged deep into her and exploded, and waves of cum shot through my shaft, into her wet pussy. Our bodies kept twitching involuntarily, until all was done, and we lay there, hearing each other breathe.

I slid off her, letting my cock plop out, and offered her the glass. She took it and we drank, smiling. "What time are you leaving in the morning?" she asked.

"I'm suddenly not in the rush I was before."

"Good," She smiled. "Come over! I make a nice omelet."

"Only if it comes with second helpings!"

She smiled, coyly. "Or thirds!"