Web Analytics
Girls Just Want To Have Fun - Day 1 Ch 3
User Rating: / 0

Thursday - Chapter 3
©Virginia Alison, ©Keith David, ©Tiffany St David, ©Lucy Dee Blake

Download full article in PDF

I decide to wear something simple for tonight, not my usual diamonds and glitz. I choose a simple little black number, high heels, small diamante earrings, and matching necklace. Sweeping my hair up on top of my head, leaving a few tendrils down to frame my face, dash of J’Adore and I am out the door. My mobile rings as I get into the cab, this time, it’s Alan; a few words to him and I am all set.

“O’Malley’s please,” I say, smiling at the driver, “yes” I sigh, “not my usual haunt but needs be, etc,”

“Scrabbling at the bottom of the barrel are you now Rosie?” Jamie laughs aloud.

Giggling I give him a friendly cuff on the back of the head, “Just stop it Jamie and drive.”

Ten minutes and few interesting snippets of information later we draw up outside the bar. I hand Jamie a couple of notes; as one of my faithful assistants and always on hand, when a job needs doing, he is worth his weight in gold. Nodding at him, no words needed, I close the cab door, a quick check in the little hand mirror, and I am ready for action.

The bar is almost empty save for a couple of drunks in the corner. A young couple is sitting smooching in one of the booths and yes; there he was, my latest assignment. He is sitting with a half finished burger and fries glancing up at the game playing on the TV above. Sauntering over to the bartender, I order a white wine spritzer, perch myself on a bar stool; cross my legs and twirl round to face the room.

I study Tom. He is quite good looking, a little frazzled around the edges, but never the less quite appealing. My eyes flick around the room, the young couple pull away from each other and the shapely brunette looks my way, winks, whispers something to her companion and they get up to leave. Alan and Jenny bless them have been keeping an eye on my latest job and having now done their bit, they can go home. As they pass, I catch Tom’s eye. I hold his gaze for a few seconds then look away but I know I have his interest. Varying bits of information flow through my mind, one piece of interest is that he had never cheated on his little wife, well; let us see just how faithful he really is. Looking back at him for a second time, I notice him staring at me and I smile, get off the stool and stroll over to his table.

“Would you mind if I join you? My date seems to have deserted me and I do hate to drink alone. Would you like another one yourself?” Without waiting for a reply, I motion to the bartender to bring my new friend another round and sit down opposite. Turning on the charm, I give him my warmest smile, and am delighted that I get the required reaction. He is actually very attractive and close up I can see why he would have been a great catch for young Tiffany.

“So tell me,” I purr, “What’s a good looking boy like you doing in a place like this?”

He laughs and replies, “I think that’s supposed to be my line,”

I sense a little reticence but his eyes are shining and he seems genuinely happy with my company, “Well, yes you are right, but you haven’t answered my question.”

The burgers and fries go down quickly with the cold beer as the game drones on in the background. The bar clears out slowly as the hands on the clock spin towards midnight and beyond. Shutting the place down is becoming a much more regular occurrence these days and the stale smell of beer seems more familiar than the smell of my own home. The Giants are winning against the A’s, but I am having a hard time concentrating on the action with the alcohol streaming through my veins.

Sitting staring blindly at the tube, she takes me by complete surprise when she sits herself at my table. I have been coming here for years and I have never seen her before. How she snuck in without me seeing her first, baffles me. The baseball game was not that riveting…not tonight or any night for that matter, to miss this type of beauty. I chalk it up to the beer and whiskey as I smile at the sudden turn in my night.

Red heads have always been a weakness of mine, and she was no exception. Amazingly beautiful strands of red hair fell gracefully on her shoulders and piercing eyes seemed to look right into me. She seemed familiar in a strange sort of way I could not place directly and I felt my heart thump when she ordered another drink. Her voice was almost angelic and the perfection of her image made me wonder if my beer goggles where a little too thick tonight, but I decide to go with it anyway.

Doing a quick headshake as she starts talking, I try to clear the cobwebs as she asked me what I was doing in a place like this. My mind spins around for a maybe a few seconds longer than I should as I tried to figure out what to say. Did she want to know that I came for the burgers because I was hungry or the real reason I wondered?

“Just grabbing a burger and beer before heading back home,” I explained. “I come here pretty regularly, but I’ve never seen you in here before so I think the real question is what brings such an amazingly beautiful lady not only to my favourite bar, but to this table because I damn sure know I’m not normally this lucky.”

Taking the fresh whiskey shot from the table, I draw a long sip as I watch her eyes. If I did not know better, I could swear she is sizing me up or trying to read me. I have seen this before from strong, secure women and they sort of freak me out when they do it. She looks me up and down then catches my gaze directly diving deep into my soul through my eyes. I break away from her glance and back to the game for a second in an attempt to regain the upper hand in this confrontation, because it is beginning to feel like a game and I hate to lose any game.

I think I have him at a disadvantage; he is sizing me up. Not quite certain where I am coming from but then that is not unusual, most men are taken aback by a woman coming on to them and I’m an expert in that field. His gaze breaks away and I wait until it wanders back in my direction, before I say:

“There are usually several reasons for a man sitting alone in a bar eating a meal with a glass of whisky beside him. The first is that he unmarried, cannot cook, and cannot face an empty house all evening. The second is that he is married but the wife is away, cannot cook or face the house without her. The third and most likely is that his wife has thrown his dinner in the garbage after a humdinger of an argument. The only way he is going to get something to eat is by heading for the nearest bar, drinking himself into a stupor, hoping she will be asleep by the time he gets home. Well, you are wearing a wedding ring, your clothes are well pressed, and you look a little worse for wear. However your face shows signs of stress and you were shovelling that burger down like there is no tomorrow so I will opt for the third.”

The look of surprise flicks across his face, quickly replaced by a smirk.

“So here we are, two lonely people, my date seems to have stood me up, and you look like you are in need of a friend. So how about drinking up and taking a stroll with me, we can talk whilst we walk,” I say with a little lilt in my voice as I rise and hold out my hand.

Befuddled with the whisky, he grasps my hand and rises unsteadily to his feet.

“I should warn you that you were correct,” he slurs slightly “but I am going to have to
go home.”

“ Yes of course you are,” I reply “Come on, let’s get some fresh air, it will do you the world of good, and my apartment is not far from here. Some strong black coffee and you will be in a fit state to return to your wife”

My middle names, decisive and persuasive, work like a charm as I take his arm outside the bar and start chatting amiably about his job, his lost career, his wife and all their woes. Not much that I do not already know but I let him ramble himself into his comfort zone and I nod and agree in all the right places. Until we arrive at my home. Conveniently situated, it is one of many around the city, kept for just such an occasion. As I unlock the front door, he mumbles something about getting back home and turns to leave but I slip my arm through his and steer him inside. The concierge tips his hat and winks as we walk past and get into the lift.

I do not want to scare him off so keeping the conversation light hearted; we enter the apartment where strangely enough, he relaxes. The lights are dim; candles burn on the side table and of course, there is wine chilling in the fridge. My ‘apartments’ are all beautifully furnished and all have the necessary ‘special touches’ for times such as these. I expect Alan and Jenny were here earlier making sure that everything was ready for the evening.

“Sit yourself down and I will pour us a drink, would you like wine, coffee or something
stronger?” I call out from the kitchen.

Things are starting to get a little spotty after that last shot of whiskey and part of me wonders, ‘what the heck I am doing’ as we enter her house. I have just enough sense left to realize it’s probably better I don’t jump into my car like this, despite having practiced the one-eyed drunk driving trick many times in the past. A cup of coffee to clear my head sounds like a good plan, and despite feeling a little wary of her familiarity and ability to read me, I plop down on the couch and say,

“Whithsky would be great ifth you hab sum.”

‘ Damn!’ What the hell did I just say? My internal dialogue plods along slowly in my head as I hear her agree and begin working in the kitchen, ‘we agreed on coffee, not whiskey,’ I think to myself ‘take it back, quick!’

“Make that a dople!” I shout far louder than necessary as I lie back on the seat and relax into the ambiance of the setting, but the couch appears to be spinning, just a bit, so I spread my arms out wide and place my feet on the floor to hold it tightly in place. ‘There, that’s better’ as I watch her approach from the kitchen with a tall glass in her hand and a broad grin on her face.

“What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t” I reply with a laugh. He is really having problems connecting his mouth with his brain, so I decide that if he insists on whisky then I will have to ply him with coffee as well, if I do not want him passing out on me.

Handing him the glass, I return to the kitchen and collect my wine and his coffee. Placing them on the table in front of him, I walk around the back of the couch. I trail my fingers lightly over the fabric cushions and gently brush along his shoulders as I pass to put some music on. Soft blues fill the air as I slip my shoes off then slide onto the seat next to him and hand him the coffee cup.

“Coffee might be a good idea,” I grin and as he exchanges the whisky glass for the cup in my hand, our fingers touch and linger. ‘This should be easy,’ I think to myself as I drop my hand from his, ‘accidentally ‘touching his thigh, provoking the desired reaction as I watch his cheeks flush.

Picking up my glass of wine, I look at him as I take a sip.  His eyes fix on my breasts, whether due to the drink or lust, I cannot be sure and as I place the glass back on the table, I make absolutely certain that he cops an eyeful. Might as well make the most of it, after all it is my job.

“Drink that coffee,” I insist, and watch as he takes a few gulps of the steaming liquid: “A little caffeine will wake you up.” Giggling, I lay back against the plush cushions and cross my legs over his knees.

I can see he’s still not sure about the whole situation but he’s had just about the right amount of alcohol to be pliable for my intentions. Sure enough, he places his hand on my legs and runs his fingers along my skin from toes to just under the hem of my dress, where he hesitates.

“Don’t stop,” I purr as I place my hand on his to guide it higher.

The coffee bitterly chases the whiskey from my lips and brain. It is exactly what I needed, but not what I wanted at that moment. Shaking my head again in a feeble attempt to twist away the fog, and ring in some sense, but my head is spinning with contradictions. How did I get into this situation? I cannot cheat on Tiffany. No, I will not do that. I will just chill here until I sober up a bit, but she is so damn sexy. I watch her carefully as she moves around the room, unable to resist staring. The soft, sensuous curves of her lovely body captivate my attentions and I sneak a nice view of her tits as she bends over in front of me.

The soft music and intoxicating aromas of the candles mingling with her perfume begin to lull my senses. I ease back into the couch as she sits down next to me. Those piercing blue eyes continue to read me, and I feel them probing and searching my soul for something, but I do not know what. When she throws her legs over mine I know its trouble, but my hands instinctively begin to touch her smooth alabaster skin. Gliding slowly over the firm muscles of her calf, I feel an electrical charge fill my core with excitement.

I cannot let this happen. I need to find a way to stop this before it goes much further and I stop just short of delving under her skirt to answer the question begging my mind, ‘Is she wearing any panties?’ I look back into her eyes, praying for some understanding of the conflict coursing through my mind, some recognition of my vow and help in maintaining it, but none comes. Instead, she instructs me to continue down the road to sin and guides my hand further up her skirt.

Thoughts of Tiffany, my miserable life and shitty job begin to flood back through my head. I have to reconcile this; how can I justify it in my mind? I think about how distant Tiffany has been. Hell, she threw away my dinner tonight. She does not even understand me anymore. She has probably had dozens of lovers because I know deep down she must hate me for what I have already done to her. How could this possibly be any worse even if she were to find out?

This lady, what was her name again, she understands me. She knows what I need and this is just a one-time thing anyway, it does not mean anything, does it? Who am I really hurting?

“What did you say your name was again?”

Guided and pulled along by her hand, I softly touch her inner thigh. She answers my questions as I stare into her eyes and her legs begin to spread wide across my lap, giving me full access. A broad, almost evil grin on her face confirms she reads me exactly once again. She knew I was wondering about not only her panties, but if she was already wet. I smile knowing the answer now to both those questions, but I feel like I have just slid a little further down the slippery slope, and it's going to be impossible to climb back up.

She stretches out on my lap, lying back against the cushions and begins to fondle her own gorgeous tits through her blouse. My fingers dabble almost aimlessly along the moisten folds of her nether lips, working her honeyed juices around the soft petals and then in small circles around her clit. My tight pants begin to feel very uncomfortable and restrictive as my rod attempts to fill to it full length, tickles of excitement filling my belly.

An image of Tiffany in her nightgown flashes into my head and I know I need to stop while I still can. I pull away and begin to lift her legs from across me so I can stand up.

“I’m sorry I don’t think I can do this. I should be going…”

I am impressed, he is determined to be faithful, but unfortunately, I have him at a disadvantage judging by the bulge in his pants. Putting my hands over his, I lean into him and whisper:

“I’m sure you have a little time yet, I promise I will get you home safely,” and as he looks at me, I see a spark in his eyes. Bending down I caress his cheek, and then I lean in slowly to brush my lips on his.

As my tongue touches his skin, his lips part and I have him, no hesitation. He puts one hand at the back of my head and crushes me to him. His breathing is ragged. I sense desperation as his other hand pulls at the strap on my dress strap in an effort to pull it down.

“Let’s move somewhere more comfortable,” I purr as I pull away and quickly get to my feet, pulling him with me. We weave our way towards the bedroom tumbling against the doors and walls we grab at each other’s clothes along the way. I struggle with the buttons on his shirt; he fiddles with the zipper of my dress. As I grab for the buttons on his trousers, he stops, and breathing heavily, he gasps,

“No I can’t do this,”

My reply is simply a long lingering kiss as we fall onto the bed. I raise myself onto my hands and look down at him, he is studying me and a small smile passes over his lips as I stand up and let my dress drop to the floor. Stepping out of it, and standing before him in black bra and thong, an appreciative leer makes me smile. Grabbing his shoes and socks, I toss them over the other side of the room. I slip his trousers and boxers down and fling them over the end of the bed. His shirt is a bit more of a struggle but we manage eventually, and giggling I grab his hands, lay down on top of him, and pin his hands above his head and whisper into his ear,

“Just lie back and let me do all the work.” Before he has time to think I pull the cuffs from their hiding places and clip them on his wrists. Sliding down his body, I quickly turning round and cuff his ankles. It takes a few minutes for his fuddled brain to gather what is happening but before he can object, I give him one of my biggest smiles as I grab his hot and now throbbing cock in my hand. Just as that moment, my phone rings.

“I had better answer that sweetheart, just stay there,” I murmur,” climbing off him.

Walking into the lounge, I grab my phone from my bag and switch off the ‘alarm’, ‘Rosie, you must be losing your touch, you nearly didn’t make it this time,’ I chide myself.

Re-entering the bedroom he is looking at me, slightly less bleary eyed and quizzically. I almost had a touch of remorse as my eyes sweep the length of his body and sigh,

“Just have to pop out, I won’t be long, don’t go away now,” and before he has a chance to answer I grab my dress, turn on my heels and leave, grabbing my shoes and bag on the way out.

“Alan, give him a couple of hours, then come and let him loose... oh and do not forget the
photos,” I laugh as I close the phone and enter the lift. I have a visit to make I hope Lucy is still up.

Down on the ground floor, I ask the receptionist to order me a cab and while I wait,
I dial Lucy’s number. The phone rings a few times and then I hear a voice,

“Hello, who’s that?”

“Lucy, it’s me Rosie. Well, you’re still up so do you fancy some company?”