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....... Dave could be close in the back seat. I agreed. No problem. I began scoping the scene as we got closer. His car was nice. It was some kind of import, worth at least 40 or 50 grand. I took a couple of quick looks at the driver, but it was dark, so I couldn’t really see him that well. But as we got closer. . . He looked better and better. And up close, he was fine. Fine. He was gorgeous. His smile was impeccable. His face was chiseled. His skin was dark and smooth. His bald head glared the street lights in my eyes. He was fine. Drop dead fine! But non of that really mattered. This wasn’t a date. We wound up going to a different club from the one my friend and I had decided on earlier. When we pulled up there was a guy going into the club that David had beef with, so we went somewhere else. The night went on. Roger was a gentleman. He opened doors, bought drinks, and didn’t bother me with any of those standard club clichés. We talked for a long time at a table in the corner of the club. It was a dark, warm, cozy and secluded spot, and the Long Island Ice Teas were starting to make me a bit carefree. I was really started to like him. He was a classy man, with a great sense of humor. And certainly know how to tease a woman, and, for some reason I didn’t stop him from feeling me up under the table. Thanks goodness we were at the club, had this been some other time and place, it would have definitely turned into something else. I was really digging him. Every so often my friend and David would come by the table, share a few laughs and disappear again. The DJ announced "last call for alcohol!" at 1:30 am. The place closed at 2. Roger and I both passed on another drink, but when we saw David leaving the bar with fresh drinks, we deduced we’d be there until they closed. "What are you doing after this?" Roger asked me. I knew what that meant. "Nothing in particular," I responded, ". . . I’ll probably just go home and go to bed. I’ve got to do laundry in the morning". "I could help you." he offered. "You want to help me do laundry?" "No. I want to help you go to bed." he smirked. He was almost irresistible. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to take him home with me. After all, this wasn’t a date. The lights came on as soon as David and my friend made it back to the table. It was 1:56 am when we walked out of the club. We walked 2 blocks to the car. Both couples walked separately, hand-in-hand. This couldn’t be a date, could it? David announced he was spending the night at my friend’s place, so that saved Roger a 45 minute drive to the suburbs. "How about a bite to eat, before the night is over?" "The night? It’s morning already." "Okay, how about an early breakfast then?" "No thanks." I responded. "Why not, you must want some food after all of those Long Islands you sucked down." he quipped. "The food will soak up some of that alcohol in you stomach. You won’t wake up with a hangover." "Plus you’ll sleep better," he added. "No thanks," I said again, I should have been offended by his sarcastic lush joke. "I’ve got food at home. I’ll be fine, thank you." I replied. "And besides," I continued, "Breakfast might make this a date." We laughed. He opened the car door for me, and we took the two horny dogs in the back seat home. The ride was smooth. The car rode over every bump in the road, like we were gliding on air. It smelt pretty good too. It was a combination of ‘new car smell’, and Egyptian musk. I couldn’t help but comment on his beautiful smile. He said he wore braces as a child. The conversation was pretty dull until his fingers started climbing my skirt again. "You better stop that," I said sheepishly, pushing his hands away. "You’re hands are pretty busy aren’t they?" "Huh?" "You heard me. Why are your hands so busy?" "Well," he began, "when they see something they like, and that something is as sexy as you, I have no control over them. You know what I mean?" "No," I answered, "I don’t know what you mean." He laughed at my answer. I stared out of the window, (click here for the next page) |
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