The Alexandra Series
The Alexandra Series
I straightened my skirt before I entered the bar. The pink and green neon flamingo blinked against the white painted walls. It took some time for my eyes to adjust to the dim lights, but once they had, I noticed several pairs of eyes glued to my every move. My low cut blouse showed them just enough breast to keep them looking. Wait until I lean over, I thought. With just the right bounce I moved to the long shiny bar. The eyes followed.
"Gin and tonic," I ordered. The bartender smiled, while I peered out of the corner of my eye at the guy next to me. Ooo, he was hot!
"You waiting for someone?" I asked.
"Just you," he said, smiling.
What a flirt!
We sat at a small table, and as my black skirt rose up on my thigh, I saw him staring. So did several other men. When I leaned forward, he looked down my blouse; and as he did my body heat soared.
I didn't want to talk, the music was far too loud, so my gentleman friend and I danced. While moving sexily to the singer's raspy voice, I watched the bulge grow between the man's legs, and then rubbed myself against it as the slow dance began. He hiked my skirt to rub my ass, and I ground my crotch against his, thinking of how it would feel to have him slide his cock inside my wet home.
"You want it right here on the dance floor, don't you, baby?" he purred in my ear.
"And what's wrong with that?"
"Nothing, nothing at all," he assured me, as he ran his broad hand along the full length of my back and let it come to rest against my ass.
Before long another man replaced him, and then another, until I was finally too exhausted for more and took a seat at the table, where for the rest of the evening, I entertained prospective suitors with shy smiles and playful banter.
I chose closing time to make my next move. Most of the women would be gone by then and I'd have the bar all to myself - along with the bartender and the half dozen or so who hung around to see what I would do.
When one of them boldly reached for my left tit, I gasped, seething with sensation. He was even daring enough to reach down and kiss it, tenderly, his lips lingering on my soft skin.
Another man approached - in jeans and cowboy boots. Oh my, he was hot! I could see the bulge in his pants too, and I began to think that maybe I'd have them both.
The new man read my mind: "How many of us do you want?" he asked directly.
I giggled to myself, thinking, how about all of you!
"So, what did you have in mind?" I asked.
"Maybe we should close the bar and take you?" the cowboy suggested.
Suddenly, the whole lot of them were swarming around me, knowing exactly what I wanted. Did I have no shame? No. Not anymore. And this would be heaven. . .
The phone rang, jangling rudely in my ears. It brought me out of the bar, out of my fantasy, back into the room where I lay on my bed. Alone, as usual. By the time my conversation was over and I'd hung up the phone, my arousal was only a distant memory...leaving me with only shame, the dreadful shame of my hidden fantasies.
As I pulled myself from bed, the morning light streamed through the ruffled curtains. It seemed to dance on the papered flowered walls. It was spring outside, but there were clouds in the sky. I couldn't decide what to wear . . . the pale pink jersey or the brown tweed. I chose the tweed. Both were dull and boring, like my life. Both were sweet and appropriate, just like me.
Always sweet and appropriate. Always the good little girl.
As I began to dress, I looked at myself in the full length mirror, at the blonde hair cascading down my shoulders. Naturally curly, which I always considered a curse, so I wore it in a tight bun or tied at the nape of my neck - my mom's