Thursday, April 17, 2014

#ThirstyThursday: Making Out With Strangers

Some friends and I sat around chatting recently. One of the ladies I chatted called me a prude because I'd never made out with a stranger. I laughed. That has NEVER happened to me. Prudes are frigid and mean. Prudes make demands of their lovers. I'm far from cold, but I do like to think of myself as a cautious hedonist and a serial monogamist. I hate dating for sport. But I do LOVE the touch of a man I've deemed worthy of becoming mine, even if only for a little while. It's not my fault that he, whoever he may be doesn't want to remain a stranger...
There was this one time in undergrad.....

Once upon a time in undergrad, I used to waitress.  One semi-slow Friday, I accidentally eye fucked one of my customers for most of the time he was in the club.  Ok...Accidentally on purpose. As soon as I saw his well groomed self, I wanted him. I almost ran to his table to make sure that the other vultures, I mean waitresses wouldn't beat me to his table. Once they were secured as my customers,  I made sure to keep his table tipsy and even tipped the bartender to over pour his drinks.
We smiled
We talked.
We flirted.
His hand lingered a little longer than it should have when he tipped me.

I took the obligatory shot customers often purchase for the staff. The night was not much different from any others. Started slow and suddenly picked up and got very busy.
I smiled less.
I talked less.
I flirted less.
I forgot to bring them a round of drinks they didn't need.

It wasn't a deliberate slight, I was there to work, not find suitors so work I did, though I would have much rather been hovering around his table still.
Unhappy with the diminished attention he and his group were receiving, on his way back from the restroom, he pulled me by the hand into the VIP room. I thought he wanted to talk to me about the change in my service.
Once inside the darkened VIP room, he spun around, and pulled me to him. I offered little protest. I remember kissing him fervently behind the tinted glass. Our tongues wrestled as if trying to learn every single millimeter of each other's mouths. The neon lights blaring against the dark brown of his bald head made me feel like I was in lost footage from Belly. I wondered if my eyes were glowing.
Our uniform required that  we wore tuxedo shorts on Friday and Saturday nights.  I remember him gripping my ass imagination through the poly blend shorts as he pulled my leg up and around him, kissing me deeper, groping each other harder.

He wasn't terribly tall and I always wore heels so as far as height went, we saw eye to eye. I could feel his muscles through his dress shirt, his pecs mashing against my breasts as his teeth grazed my neck just so as I teetered on one leg like some sort of erotic tuxedo clad flamingo.

My hands clasped the back of his neck to hold him as close as standing and our clothes would allow. I dragged my tongue from the base of his neck and across the slight stubble of his scalp.  We both moaned as he arched to receive more of my mouth against his skull. Graceful swan that I always have been, I lost my balance and fell onto one of the couches.  He stood over me chuckling, smirking, one hand resting on the buckle of his pants. He wouldn't....would he?

I wanted that mouth back. I wanted that blackberry pout of his in my mouth again. I wanted that mouth again more than I wanted any more of the Friday night tips I was missing out on frolicking in this den of sex with him. Right?

Before he could climb down upon me on the couch, I stood, straightened myself and kissed him on the cheek.

I had to walk away.  I couldn't smash him in the VIP room. I really wanted to, but I just couldn't....right? I was sure that sex in the champagne room would be grounds for termination, so I started to walk away. Besides, I had other tables to attend to.

He grabbed my arm, pulled me back to him, buried his hand in the hair on the nape of my neck as he ground himself against the back of my shorts and ground toothy kisses up and down my exposed neck. My knees went weak and my body melted against him like a rag doll.

"I want to see you again." He growled into my neck in between carnivorous kisses.

Trained to flirt for tips, I panted my generic coy reply, "I'm always here. Come see me." After all, he had been an excellent tipper and he definitely needed to make up for what I was missing while being in here with him.

He yanked my head around so I would face him. I was dizzy with drink and want.....

Suddenly the pout was back in my mouth, arms were around me, palms held me fixed against him, and I could feel him like steel against the naked skin of my thigh. My eyes rolled back in my head and my breath caught in my throat. I broke away from him long enough to scribble my phone number and name on my order pad. He took the paper, folded it neatly, and tucked it into his wallet.
He kissed me from my neck to my jaw to my chin to my mouth, pulling my bottom lip into his mouth before pulling away, smacking me on the ass, and walking out of the room.

I was completely disoriented, but couldn't let him or anyone else know that. I took a few calming breaths as I walked out of the room and towards the bar where surely my drinks were waiting. While I stood waiting for the drinks, he walked up behind me, reached around to my hands that were resting on the bar as I loaded my tray, and slipped a business card into my hand. Realizing what he'd done, I smirked at my tray, tucked the card into my bra, turned once I was sure he'd moved a safe distance away, and went to attend to my other tables.

1 comment:

  1. When are you going to start writing the book? Seriously, this would make a great novel. If you haven't thought about it, you should.