by Bridy McAvoy
“Mean what, Brad?” I’d checked his name badge—his name really was Brad.
“That despite finding out I’m nothing more than a barista, you’ll still come on a date with me tonight?”
I smiled and nodded. “A barista is more than nothing. So, yes, I will.”
“Thank you, you’re wonderful. I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”
“Just be yourself and you’ll be fine.”
He seemed to grow taller sitting there, puffing up, more like the alpha Bull I’d met the night before.
“Look, Brad, let me tell you my own secret.”
“Oh?”
“I couldn’t decide whether to turn up tonight or not. In the end I decided to come shopping. If I found the right dress, I’d meet you. If I didn’t, I’d stand you up.”
“Ah. Right. And did you find the dress?”
“Not yet. But I decided I’d turn up anyway the moment I saw your face fall. I couldn’t disappoint those puppy dog eyes.”
He smiled. “Look, I’d love to chat, but I do have to get back to work…”
“That’s okay. I need to get shopping, so I’ll see you later.”
“With pleasure.”
“Mutual, I think.”
* * * *
I was lucky. By the time I’d finished my coffee while wandering down the mall, I’d spotted what looked like a perfect little black dress in a shop window just down from the Starbucks where Brad worked. Unfortunately they didn’t have it in my size, but they did have a different dress in my size. This was spectacular—burnt orange with printed deep red flames running up from the hem. It was halter-neck and short. In fact, it was so short it wouldn’t have covered my stocking tops. I either had to wear pantyhose, which I’d come to hate, or go bare-legged. Remember, it was still early March and it got cold at night. I wasn’t sure I fancied either alternative—for different reasons, of course. However, the dress was a must buy and, at the price, a steal. I still have it in the wardrobe here, but I wouldn’t say it was particularly fashionable these days, nor suitable for a woman of my age. Late teenage, or just turned twenty, sure, but older than that—no, not right. Still, I kept it.
I grabbed some coffee, some milk and bread and butter for toast, and a carton of orange juice to stock up at the condo. As an afterthought I picked up a couple of bottles of wine and a six-pack of Bud and, after a long bath at home, decamped for the condo around five.
I’d never spent so long on my make-up as I did that night, nor on teasing my hair to fall perfectly straight. I almost wore out my straighteners! I felt like a teenager again, a very young one. Only I was able to drive and I was allowed to drink. I didn’t intend to drink that much, and I had no intention of getting drunk. I’d done that when I’d come off the painkillers and the cast had come off my leg. I’d done it that once—never again. I was ready early, and I knew I was supposed to be late. Instead I got in my car and drove past the bar a couple of times. The place was jumping—I mean, it was packed. The lot was full, so I’d have to park on the street, quite a way from the bar. I drove back up and, just as I approached the bar, a car pulled out so I drove into the spot quickly. I didn’t fancy a couple of blocks’ walk with bare legs in the cold night air. That’s right, I’d decided to go bare-legged rather than wear unsexy pantyhose. I don’t think I’ve worn the damned things since I made that decision. There again, I wear my skirts a little longer these days.
Walking into a bar on my own was a bit nerve-wracking, but I steeled myself for it and walked up the steps at the front. There was a group of lads outside who stopped their conversation to watch me approach.
“Nice dress, babe.”
“Nice rack, sweetheart.”
“Sod the rack, those legs go on for fucking evah.”
The comments were getting a bit raunchy, and I could feel my face heating, but I didn’t want to give in. I’d heard worse at school, although usually directed at other girls. They didn’t realize it but I’d clocked their faces and they were in the Never Evah category from then on. I was learning the game—late, but learning.
I guess Brad had been watching for my arrival because he was by my side seconds after I walked in.
“Hi.”
“Hi, I’m glad you came.” He was back to being the confident guy who’d brought me over a consolatory beer the night before, not the slightly diffident barista who’d served me earlier that day. I guess the uniform does make the man, or unmake him, whichever.
“You look stunning in that dress, absolutely stunning. It really suits you.”
“Oh, this old thing?”
He laughed and shook his head. “I bet you bought it this afternoon.”
“Okay, I admit—I did.”
“It does look stunning, and you look stunning in it. Beer?”
“Bud.”
The bar was heaving and there was no chance of a table. We stood at the bar for a couple of minutes until someone tried to push behind me to get served. He pushed me into Brad and I felt Brad tense up but the guy muttered sorry and he relaxed. The music was loud too, so Brad grabbed my hand and led me over toward the back of the bar. There I found they had ranch doors along the whole back of the place, and they were open, allowing access onto a large covered veranda. Three gas patio heaters kept the chill off. It wasn’t that warm, so there were fewer people out there, which meant it was quieter and we could talk.
“Sorry about the misunderstanding last night.”
I chuckled. “Misunderstanding, was it? In which case I should have ordered a three-ply Bud when you offered me a drink?”
“I asked for that, didn’t I?”
“Just a little. But why hide what you do?”
He shrugged. “I guess it’s because girls won’t think I’m ambitious.”
“It’s a good skill to have. Lots of girls like a decent coffee in the morning.” I stopped and blushed. That hadn’t been intended as any kind of invitation, but to my ears it sure sounded like one.
I shifted my purse and my bottle of beer to my other hand and tried hard to look unconcerned. Brad, though, had noticed my blush and he stepped in close and tucked a finger under my chin, tilting my face up. A moment later his lips pressed against mine and his tongue once more demanded entrance. I pulled back and he let me go.
“That’s a bit quick on the trigger just there.”
“Why? You’re a beautiful woman, and you know I think your dress is stunning. I can’t wait to see what you’re wearing underneath it, or what you look like naked.”
“Hold your horses, buster. A girl likes a drink and a dance first.”
“Oh? First?”
Was I ever digging a hole for myself? I’d almost promised him a fuck right there, and I’d only been with him for ten minutes!
“Whoa! Okay?”
“Sure. I’m just teasing. You want to finish the beer and go and dance?”
“We’ve got all…a while, no rush.”
“Well, if we’re not going to dance for a while, I can think of something to do to fill the time till we do.”
He leaned in and kissed me again, even more demanding this time, and I couldn’t help myself—I returned the kiss. As my mouth opened and our tongues met, his arm snaked around my waist and pulled me close to him. The kiss deepened, becoming ever more passionate with every passing second as he held me tight against him. I felt his hand slide down to my ass, and squeeze the left cheek of my butt. My chest was pressed against him. At least he smelled clean, and his kiss tasted good. By the time we broke apart, I was struggling to breathe, panting for air. He stepped back and took a pull at his beer.
“Dance?”
His expression was cocky, as if daring me to say no, meaning I wanted to stay with him and neck and make out. Brad was the first guy my own age I’d really kissed in five years, and I was fighting to control my emotions as well as my breathing. He was a good kisser, which promised well for later. I knew if he kept kissing me like that I’d be putty in his hands.
I drained my Bud, carefully placed my empty on a nearby table and watched as he did the same. Then I let him grab my hand and lead me through to the dance floor. The room was crowded—I think I said that—so even while dancing to a fast song we were forced to be close. Two songs later, the band switched to a ballad and I didn’t try and resist as Brad pulled me close.
Brad knew how to dance a slow dance—I mean, really dance to get me hot. Before I knew it he had both arms wrapped around my back, one high, pushing my breasts into his chest, his other arm dropping to allow his hand to touch my butt once again. He didn’t drop it too far—he couldn’t cup my cheek with his hand—but he was well below the waist. The damage, though, was being done in two other places. My arms were around his neck and my head turned to the side, allowing him access to my neck with his mouth. Lower down he’d managed to plant one of his thighs between mine, so before we were halfway through the song he was grinding his leg against my mound. The combination of both was doing wonders for my libido. I think I murmured No hickies, but I don’t know if he heard me. He didn’t leave any marks, so maybe he did, or maybe he was being careful anyway.
As the song finished we parted and my legs felt weak. I knew I couldn’t take another dance like that—I might do something really outrageous. It wasn’t even nine o’clock. We’d been together for less than an hour, and I wanted to jump him. If we’d stayed there I might have. My calm, collected head took over and, smiling up into his face, I grabbed his hand. This time it was me leading and he was clearly surprised when I led him toward the door, walking quickly. There were a couple of cat-calls—I guess some of the guys had noticed he was onto a sure thing, but I didn’t even blush. Then we were outside and I paused to take a breath.
As we walked down the steps I headed toward the street where I was parked and he turned left into the car park. We both stopped, confused as to why we’d separated.
“Where are you going?”
I think we both asked the same question at the same time. He moved back to my side and took my hand again. “My car, it’s over there.” He nodded toward the far end of the lot.
I smiled up at him. “So you want to take me parking? Is that it?”
“Something like that.” It was clear he’d realized he was onto a winner—my actions had given away how hot I was to get something happen.
“My car is over there, and I’d rather take that.”
He bristled a little and I could see his frown in the light from a streetlamp.
“Look, I was in a bad accident last year. My parents died. I don’t like riding as a passenger as a result. It’s not you.”
“Your parents? I’m so sorry.”
I shook my head. “History, okay, but we take my car.”
He shrugged. “How can I refuse? The chance to watch a pretty woman in a very short skirt driving is something a guy shouldn’t pass up.”
The devil in me forced an answer. “Only watch?”
“No, sweetheart. I’m sure your powers of concentration are up to the task.”
I shivered. He was going to get handy in the car.
“Where are you going to take me? Or do you want directions?”
I shook my head. “We’ll go down by the lake. I know a place.” Of course I knew a place—my place—but I was being a little coy about it.
“Fine.”
I leaned in and he responded by kissing me. We got a couple of “get a room” comments from people heading into the bar, but I truly couldn’t have cared less. They didn’t know—even Brad didn’t know—I already had one, ready and waiting, with the bed turned down.
Laughing, I led him over to my car and unlocked it. He held the door open for me as I tried to slide into the seat behind the steering wheel without showing too much. His eyes were locked on the thigh gap I showed him—I think my skirt slid all the way up to my butt. I wasn’t sure if he could see my panties, but if not it was close. His gaze was locked there for several seconds. I remembered one thing Mr. Bryant had told me about separating Keepers from Bulls. Keepers would glance and look up at my face. Bulls would let their eyes drink their fill. Brad was a Bull, no doubt. I was sitting straight in the car with the keys in the ignition before he tore his gaze away from my legs.
“You are so fucking beautiful.” I don’t know if he said anything else but he closed the door. While he walked round to the passenger side, I adjusted the skirt as well as I could and started the engine, trying to get the car to warm up. With my legs bare, I was cold.
He slid into the seat and looked around the car, nodding with approval. It wasn’t the latest ‘3’ series, but my father had made sure of the leather trim and all the gadgets, most of which I never used. The air con, though, was very good, and in seconds the warm air was blasting through the foot wells and taking the chill off my skin.
“Nice car.”
“Thanks.”
I put it into drive, and pulled out. There was little traffic so we were soon on the inner loop road heading the mile or so along to the turnoff for the lake. Once there we’d double back along the lake front. There were a couple of cut-throughs if you were walking—we could probably have walked it quicker—but I wanted my car safe, not left at the side of the road overnight.
Brad was as good as his word. I’d hardly straightened up from the initial maneuver before his hand was across the center console and stroking my thigh just above my knee. I raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he started to move his hand in slow circles on my rapidly warming flesh. Each revolution took his hand higher. I shuddered under the contact but allowed my knees to part, allowing him access to the sensitive flesh on the inside of my thighs.
“That dress is awesome. You have great taste.”
“Thank you.”
“But I can’t wait to see what you look like without it.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, buster.”
“I’m not.”
His fingers found the hem of my dress, and I glanced down to see the flame design sparkling under the lights of the streetlights. I made the turn into the lakeside road as he pushed the skirt higher, exposing more thigh to his gaze. It might have been dark and cold, but I was hot, and felt deliciously exposed.
By the time I pulled into the parking space behind my condo, he had the skirt pushed high enough for my panties to peek out underneath it. His fingers hadn’t moved from my leg to my pussy, but they were getting perilously close. He looked around in confusion as I turned the ignition off and prepared to get out of the car.
“This isn’t the most private place I could think of us parking.”
“It isn’t.”
“But…”
I got out of the car, allowing the dress to fall back into place. He seemed disappointed but climbed out as well, meeting me in front of the car. I grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the car.
“Where are we going?”
I giggled. “In front of this condo is a nice patio, beyond that there’s a floating dock. I’m sure you can think of something we can do there.”
“Won’t the condo owner mind, or the neighbors?”
“I don’t care what the neighbors think…and no, I don’t mind.” I leaned in close and pecked him on the lips, then ran my hand up his leg to the front of his jeans. He was still confused, but his body was reacting to what I was doing. “Come on, silly.” I reached into my purse and pulled out the door key then led him round the front of the condo and unlocked the door. I guess the penny dropped at that point.
“This is yours? Or are you housesitting?”
“Mine.”
“Wow.”
“More comfortable than the back seat of a car, maybe?”
“Oh, yeah!”
I sensed I’d blown him away, surprised him, knocked him off his game. Flicking the lights on in the sitting room, I used the dimmer switch to dim them, then led him into the room, and firmly slid the door shut, pulling the drapes closed behind him.
<
br /> “No need to worry about the neighbors now, is there?”
He grinned, his confidence returning. He seemed to drip sex appeal at that moment.
“You want another beer?”
My hostess act lasted about another four seconds. That was the time it took for him to reach out, grab my arm and spin me into his grasp. This time he wasn’t holding back as he gave me a searing kiss. His hands dropped to cup my ass cheeks, while my hands clamped on the sides of his face to return the kiss with one as hot, if not hotter.
I could feel him working the material of my dress higher with each squirm of his fingers and shuddered at how quickly things were moving. I’d only met up with him on a date an hour and a bit earlier. Now he’d started the process of undressing me, and the bed was only just on the other side of that single door.
After a few moments more, I broke the kiss. “Wind it back for a minute, okay?”
His smile was lazy, the ‘I know I’m going to have you’ type smile. I got to recognize that one over time. Just as much as the ‘I know I’ve had you’ one.
I disengaged myself from him and pushed him to sit down on the couch. I knew what I wanted to do but I wasn’t sure if I actually had the courage. He looked up at me as I stood in front of him.
* * * *
She paused in her narrative. “You know what? Wait a minute, please, I think a demonstration is in order.”
Without another word she rose to her feet and dashed into the bedroom. She didn’t close the door but from my angle I couldn’t see what she was doing. I did hear the sound of a door being opened, hangers clinking on the rail, and then the rustle of plastic as she peeled a cover off something. She’d said the dress was stored here, so I wasn’t surprised when, a minute later, she appeared in the doorway and struck a pose, hip shot, one arm above her head holding onto the door jamb.
The deep orange dress with red flames was scandalously short. I could see at least a couple of inches of exposed garters and naked thigh below the bottom of it. She’d thrown it on over the top of the Merry Widow, which only accentuated the way it clung to her curves. I was getting a seriously better effect than the guy she’d been describing had. Once certain she had my attention, she let a slow smile spread over her face. She said she didn’t like the ‘I know I’m going to have you’ look, but she was wearing it. I let her keep the smile. I didn’t say anything, as she walked across the room. Her hips swayed to some invisible beat and the skirt swirled around her legs. She looked incredible—I knew how she’d blown poor Brad away with the way she looked. She was hot, smoking hot, flaming hot—just as the dress seemed to promise she was. Sam stopped in front of me and looked down, that smile still playing on her lips.