I abandoned Rocco's for finding women but returned for the food. That was all fate needed. I was feasting on excellent prime rib when Perfection walked in, window shopped, made a beeline for my booth, and sat down.
"I have a thing for men wearing dark glasses indoors."
I didn't explain that I'd shattered my regular pair.
She said her name was Dyan, her now ex-fiance had confessed to cheating repeatedly, and she intended to catch up.
Brandy was served at her apartment. She complained about the heat and removed her dress and shoes, her entire wardrobe. She invited me to join her.
After we extensively studied each other's secrets in braille, I suggested we adjourn to her bedroom. She refused, saying we had to slow dance first. After fifteen minutes of cheek-to-cheek and dick-to-bush dancing, she pulled me into the bed, sat on my face, and administered the blowjob of my life. We came and passed out.
We awoke at midnight and resumed fondling, but before I could "climb aboard," she wanted fifteen more minutes of cheek-to-cheek dancing. After that she pulled me atop her and showed me tricks with her pussy that most women can't do with their mouths. Again we came and passed out.
Around three more fondling, and again more cheek-to-cheek dancing. Then it was a mixture of doggy-style and woman-on-top that convinced me she's merely been warming up earlier.
We awoke at eight. "How about one for the road?" I asked.
"Only if you dance with me."
"I'm curious. Why do you always dance before sex?"
She licked her full lips. "I don't like sex without first having a little floor play."
© Russell Hoisington 2003