“Fuck that,” she says. “Did you ever see that show where they took a black light into a hotel room and had some guy explain all the different fluids and shit?”
“Yeah,” I say. I wanted to ask “Which one?” but it doesn’t really matter. I know where she’s going with this.
“All right,” she says. “We can go back to my place, but you’ve got to be quiet.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about,” I mutter, trying to hide my smile.
“What was that?” she asks.
“I said that it’s not going to be a problem,” I lie. Eh, it’s close enough to the truth.
It’s bad form to brag about one’s prowess. It just makes you come across deluded. Better to let her find out, that’s what I always say.
“All right,” she says.
She’s buzzed, not drunk. I’ve never liked getting with a drunken chick. Too much hassle, nowhere near enough reward.
We get a cab. The driver cringes when Buzzed Girl undoes my pants in the backseat, but the man doesn’t say anything about it.
“Do you want me to go down on you?” she asks.
Now there’s a stupid question.
“Yeah,” I say, “why not?”
I’m sitting in the back, pants around my ankles. I refuse to drop my boxers in a cab, though. You never know what kind of shit happened on these seats.
To prove my point, she’s slipping my cock through the slit in the fabric, and I’m looking in the rearview mirror at the driver. This isn’t my first time in the back of a cab.
Sure enough, she’s about halfway down my dick on her first time down when he looks up and spots me watching him. I just smile and shrug my shoulders. The guy’s got to be lonely driving all night, may as well give him a show.
“Do you like that?” she asks.
I’ve never been a fan of that question in this context. Chances are, if I’m not telling you to stop, I’m not complaining.
“That feels great, babe,” I tell her. I don’t really like the term, but it’s a lot easier than trying to remember her name.
“Get another drink or two in me, and I bet I can deepthroat that,” she says.
It’s not a terrible idea, other than the risk that alcohol and gag reflexes can cause when put together.
“We’ll see,” I tell her. “I’m more interested in what you taste like.”
Yes, it’s a line, but it works.
In response to my “selfless act,” she’s all the more adamant in her action. Tonight’s not a bad night.
She pops me out of her mouth a moment to lick my sac. This is why I shower three times a day. I never know when it’s going to happen; only that it is going to happen.
“That’s fucking great,” I mutter, hoping the driver can’t hear me. I don’t like talking during the act any more than I like responding to that ridiculous question she asked a minute or two ago, but if that’s what she wants, that’s what she wants.
The driver glances up at the mirror, and I can see his eyes squint into a smile.
It’s when he angles the mirror down to get a closer look at exactly what’s going on that I put my hand on my companion’s shoulder. I’m fine with the driver having an idea what’s going on, even catching a glimpse here and there, but having another guy staring at my junk is just awkward.
“What’s wrong?” the woman asks. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”
Eager to please, loathe to offend: it is a beautiful thing.
I nod toward the mirror, and whatever-her-name-is throws a fit big enough to convince the cabbie to give us a discount for the trip.
I’m still hard when we pull up to her building.
We get out of the cab, and I grin as I wish the driver a good night.
I doubt his is going to be anything compared to mine.
Buzzed Girl is all laughs as the doorman opens the door for us, and I’m just hoping she’s not one of those chicks that’ll spend all of our time giggling and talking about how she never does this kind of thing.
I get that the super-innocence thing is a turn on for some guys, but I’m not one of them.
I like a woman who knows what she’s doing.
We get to the elevator and, although we’re not the only people in the car, she’s standing in front of me, rubbing her butt against the front of my jeans.
Yeah, I’m ready.
“Tell me about your roommate,” I say.
She stops grinding.
“What?” she asks. “Why?”
“I mean, if she hears us, what’s she going to do? I mean, she’s not going to call the cops or anything stupid, is she?”
“No,” Buzzed Girl says. She starts laughing again. It’s not a pleasant noise. “She hasn’t yet.”
Ah, a little depravity. That’s what I was looking for.
“Do this sort of thing often, then, huh?”
“What do you think?” she asks, rubbing up against me.
The whole scene makes the elderly man standing next to me shift anxiously. I can almost hear him praying for the elevator to just reach his floor so he can get out.
“There’s just not a good answer to that,” I whisper.
For once, I’m the one trying to be discreet.
“I guess you’re about to find out,” she says.
She turns around to face me, and I can see the man next to me turn his head.
For a moment, I’m worried this chick is going to drop my pants right here in the not-so-private elevator, but she eases that particular fear with a deep kiss, her arms wrapped around my neck.
I’m a fan of kissing. It’s probably my favorite part of the whole game, you know, except for everything else.
That said, this chick is biting my lip hard enough that I push her away.
“Fucking ease up,” I whisper. “Planning on taking that home with you?”
“Only if I can bring the rest of you, too,” she whispers in my ear.
With those words, my goal for the evening has just become trying to nail her roommate.
It’s a lofty goal, but unless this chick can come up with something less clumsy to say to me, I don’t know that I’ve got much choice.
I pride myself on my game, and having a partner who’s not pulling her own weight is a turnoff.
If the roommate thing doesn’t work out, though, I guess I’ll manage.
“Two more floors until we reach heaven,” she whispers, palming the front of my jeans.
“Shh…”
She thinks I’m worried about the other people in the elevator.
In reality, I just want to get her to stop saying such ridiculous shit.
The elevator slows to a stop, and I’m wondering what god this man standing next to me pissed off so much to end up on the floor right beneath—you know, whoever this woman still groping me said she is.
He hurries out of the elevator and Buzzed Girl turns around, rubbing herself against me a little bit more before we get to her floor.
The sweetest sound in the world is that elevator door opening again.
“You have no idea what kind of shit you’re in for,” she tells me.
It’s a challenge.
We’re on her floor and she’s testing me to see how I’m going to react to such a bold statement.
Believe it or not, that kind of thing is enough to make a lot of guys nervous.
“We’ll see,” I tell her.
As we approach her door, she grows quiet, serious.
I was beginning to think the woman didn’t have any spatial awareness. It’s good to know that’s not completely true.
She unlocks her door and puts a finger to her bottom lip.
I wonder if it’s too soon in our forty-five minute relationship to gauge her interest in a threesome with her roommate.
“So, tell me more about this roommate,” I whisper as we get into her room and she shuts the door behind us.
“Oh, she is so boring,” Buzzed Girl says. “All she ever does is go to the gym and do yoga. She’s such a flake.”
Be still, my beating heart.
“So you feel threatened by her,” I say.
If I have any chance of making this happen, this is how it’s going to go down.
Buzzed Girl’s eyes narrow.
Tonight is going to be a good night.
* * *