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She Wanted It
She Wanted It
There I was, sitting in a bar drinking my...medicine. I was feeling low, feeling empty, feeling ugly. I looked around to see the same faces I've seen in there since time began (which was just after I wound my watch). I thought about going back, back in time, to a place where I pulled tail like Siegfried at Roy's funeral. I went back to when panties dropped like the rain, when pussy came flying at me faster then the winter wind in Chicago (before I could take off my scarf). Those days when I was the man, when I made my big brother the man, when I made my little brother the man and had a fraternity house full of little sisters. I though on those days and realized they were a long time ago, in another decade, in another state, in another life.
Then you sat down next me. You were much older so I paid you little mind and went back to bobbing for answers in a sea of JD. You turned to me and asked for a light, I gave you mine. You asked me how my day was and I said I didn't want to talk about it. You asked me how my New Year's was and I said I didn't want to talk about it. You asked me how I wanted my night to be and I sat there...silent. The only answer I could come up with was "Not like this." And from there we began to make a night not like this, not like a bluesy haze of whiskey and cigarettes but like a funk that we were both in and both outside of. How could we stay there, when we were here, together?
You told me that you used to be a bartender. I remembered days of dating bartenders and beer tub girls and... and strippers. "You two?" she asked me. My ears immediately perked up. "You dated strippers?" I asked you and then I noticed it. Behind a wrinkle or two was the matured face of a stripper, and a hot one at that. You told me that when you bartended you played with the girls and the boys, sometimes together. We both went back on that one, and instantly the jazzy funk became hot soul, multi-colored track lighting, black lights, over-worn couches and over-worn people. We both smiled.
Well, there's a strip club just over top this place, wanna go? I had already hit "Not like this" and wasn't going back, at least not there. You said you weren't ready, you weren't looking your best and I told you to stop lying to yourself...you look gorgeous. You still put up a fight and the only reason you could give was that you weren't dressed for it. Then, you remembered the lingerie that you bought today, to wear for your boyfriend. A Cheshire cat grin settled into my face. Not because you have a man, but because you are working on one. We head out to your car and you change right in front of me.
The picture...of beauty...refined...completes itself. I see a slim hottie with no bra and nipples pointing to Jerusalem come out of that car and I know I've found my date. We head into the club and get our seats. It's late and there aren't many on stage so we decide to get a table dance, or actually you decide to get a table dance, for me. You ask me what I like and I tell you to surprise me. You bring me the leggiest thing in the place and if ever there were two columns extending into heaven I've found them...but you're sitting down. I enjoy the dance and not long after the club closes. We decide to go back to your place, only to find that you man has left a note on your car. He was in the bar, in the dark, and saw us together. He's not happy, but then again, he was supposed to be asleep. You get mad and I offer to leave before more hell breaks out, but you invite me to come over and spend some time. I would have said no except I had your tongue in your mouth, hands in my pants, and you had my full attention.
So we go to your place and your daughter is telling you about your boyfriend, who stopped by after he saw us. You call him and feed him a line longer than the equator about how I was someone else and you were just being friendly and we go way back and it's not what it appeared and all the things I used to say, back when I needed to say them. I can't help but laugh listening to you string him along, but I realize that I'm not that person anymore so that's a time since past for me. When you finally get off the phone you come to me, on the couch. With you daughter and grandson already in bed, instantly we become to teenagers when mom and dad aren't home. I pull you close and can feel your nipples pressing against me, rubbing against me, excited, puffy, and dancing against my shirt.
I pick you up and carry you upstairs and we do what lovers do, in you, hands held tight, sweat glistening, hearts pounding, muscles tightening and relaxing and tightening, gripping groping opening to me, closing in you... until we have at last, cum to our closing. You feel like you can hardly move and I feel exhausted. I hold you for a moment and kiss the back of your neck. It's late, or better yet, it's early. The sun is just below the horizon and the sky is playing that autumn shades of twilight game it plays after a night of mystery greats a dawn. It is at this dawn we put our clothes back on and it's about time for me to head home. As we head down the stairs you feel a pain in your mid-section. You feel a strain in muscles cumming out of retirement. You enjoyed every second of the night that was, but you will feel it in the day left to come. I tell you as I head out the door, "I'm sorry." "Don't be" you tell me, "I wanted it."